Watching Parade’s End is like getting stuck into a lovely big slice of Victoria Sponge; it’s gorgeous to look at, wonderful to gobble up, and satisfying to tell your friends about long after you’ve wiped the crumbs away from your mouth. If only life were all tea and cake for Christopher Tietjens…
The Great War rattles on, and though Tietjens (Benedict Cumberbatch) has lived through his first innings in the trenches, he hasn’t exactly survived it. Shell-shocked and recovering from explosive amnesia, he returns to London as a hollowed-out man. People are all too willing to fill him up again with malicious gossip, as word of his fondness for Valentine Wannop (Adelaide Clemens), and rumours of an affair spread through society faster than Rev. Duchemin’s blood and bathwater runs down the walls.
Tietjens doesn’t seem to care that he’s been ostracised by the black tie and white feather brigade, not even when those rumours cause his father to commit suicide (or at least are linked to a very unfortunate accident). Or maybe he can’t care; he’s so busy flinching at mental scars.
If this episode isn’t evidence enough to persuade the court of public opinion that Benedict Cumberbatch is one of Blighty’s best actors, then no amount of Sherlocking or Star Trekking will. The man is a force of nature. His Tietjens is so believably damaged that it draws you in until you find yourself sharing every twitch and quiver, and silently mouthing what you hope him to say in between every pained pause in his speech.
It makes his romance with Clemens’ cherubic Valentine all the more poignant. Constantly reiterating that there is no truth to society gossip, at last he submits to his feelings for her, only for them to be cruelly deferred by timing and chance. Then once more it’s off to the front lines to quiver in the mud in the name of King and Country.
But by no means do Cumberbatch and Clemens stride away with the show. A slower-moving episode than the previous two means a chance for everyone to steal attention. Rebecca Hall, conveys more emotion with just her lips then most can with their entire bodies, while Rupert Everett, with his voice like a buttered cat, purrs his way through each scene.
Amid so many piquant interactions between actors it’s impossible to pick out just one great performance. It’s just a shame we’ll never see Rufus Sewell again. We’d gotten quite fond of Rev. Duchemin.
As many viewers have pointed out, the only thing you can really fault about Parade’s End is something beyond its control: the time its broadcast. Even in the black mirror age of digital convenience and online catch-up, a Friday night isn’t the timeslot this series deserves. It’s a programme to make an appointment for; to sit in a comfy chair and watch its lush cinematography on as big a screen as you can. Just like cake, everyone deserves a slice of something this good once a week.
Aired at 9.30pm on Friday 7th September 2012 on BBC Two.
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