It’s only episode two and already they are putting the “dark” into Poldark. Political intrigue and the murky hand of “the crown” lent a Game of Thrones feel to this episode. But instead of the bouncing bosoms amply displayed on HBO, BBC budgetary constraints meant that instead we got the filthy soles of Tess Tregidden’s Hobbit-like feet happily resting on Ross’s dining table, much to Prudie’s disgust. Ah well, we have to get our kicks where we can – especially as Aidan Turner’s agent seems to have beaten the producers into submission regarding the bare chest activity. (Will we even glimpse a clavicle this series? I bet a sack of slaver’s gold the answer is no.)
This week was dominated by Creepy Spy Man, AKA the least discreet espionage presence since Grey Squirrel appeared behind a park bench on Dom Joly’s Trigger Happy TV. And yet despite the fact that Creepy Spy Man was constantly following everyone at one pace behind virtually wearing a sign saying “Hello, I am following you”, he was noticed only by Demelza. This series is going to be almost exclusively about conspiracy theories and vested interests. And with Ross dragged further into Irish Ned’s case and Dr Enys dragged into defending the insane assassin, a pattern is indeed emerging: Ross is about to be stitched up like Irish Ned. Now Ross must spy on his best friend on behalf of the crown to win the favour of the crown towards his best friend. (Or something like that.)
Things are not looking good for Evil George, even though he has now become Sir Evil George. From the viewer’s point of view, it’s good news: Elizabeth is back, more beautiful than ever. This is bad news for Sir Evil George, as Elizabeth can never really come back because she was killed off by the terrible tincture. Sir Evil George’s Forsythesque chin strained ever further upwards as Ross sought once more to ask for money for Geoffrey Charles. “Between your inability to let her go and my … unfounded suspicions,” he stammered. A wonderful micropause there, indicating that Sir Evil George knows that his suspicions are, in fact, amply founded, as the matching non-haircuts of Ross and Valentine prove.
Back in Cornwall, several storms were brewing. God bless the fairy child of Drake and Morwenna! “She do keep her distance still?” There’s nothing a cliffside ditty about an old couple can’t cure, though. And soon, Drake was getting her to hold hands with him and talking to her by the fireside about hope and babies. “Is it truly beyond recall?” Probably. For it is said in the scriptures: once a woman has lived with the pig’s-tail-buttocked vicar, all is lost.
Other moments of note? I love it when they show Ross in parliament, shouting his oratory that no one wants to listen to. Meanwhile Cecily and Geoffrey Charles rival Morwenna and Drake for soppiness. They’re so annoying I almost want the pretend-half-blind poet back. I did like Cecily reading Mary Wollstonecraft, though. God forbid anyone access the ravings of an educated woman. As for Mr Bannantine, he seemed to be hiding from his dialect coach. “Utterrrrly!” And when he was finally discovered, he had to be killed immediately for crimes against accents. Most of all, though, someone riddle me this: what is going on with the Kestrel of Doom? Has he eaten Horace the pug? (Yes, I realise it’s a falcon or whatever. Be gone, ornithological pedants.)
Pewter tankard award for bonkers brilliance as supporting actor
Take the stand, Dr Enys (Luke Norris). This was most entertaining in its anachronistic wokeness. “The true character of insanity is not wild frenzy or raving madness but delusion.” Dr Enys always speaks his mind and protects the underdog, even if the medical information he spouts would not remotely have been available in the early 19th-century. But thank goodness he is investigating the causes and treatments of insanity when so many people around seem to be afflicted. Dr Enys has always been useful in advancing both plot and characterisation and here he is playing a double role, examining the king’s would-be assassin and giving us an insight into Sir Evil George’s hallucinations. Plus, we know from previous series that he has had his own brushes with a) PTSD and b) grief after the loss of a child. It’s a double whammy. Dr Enys is anxiety case study and mental health ally rolled into one. I enjoy his sincerity and his lovely face. We need a lot more Sindy Doll, though.
Classic Poldark lines
• “Slave labour. Would that be a concern?” “Why would it?” He barely blinked. Vintage Sir Evil George.
• “Your mamma? I expect she was adorable.” “Would you like to see a picture?” It’s the Tinder date from hell.
• “Please don’t tell me they’ve formed an attachment.” “It will not end well, I fear.” Understatement of the century.
• “And then I bethought me, ‘What is a marriage if we stand not together?’” ’T’ain’t right and t’ain’t proper to make up random olden day talk. But ’tis Poldark so we be not a-worryin’ about it.
• “Let us not treat our fellow diners to displays of martial arts.” “No indeed! A cup of tea would be far less distracting.” Translation: “Do not punch the bad slave man in the face.” “Come and have a nice cuppa instead.”
• “Ralph Hanson and George Warleggan, what could they possibly have in common?” Er, an interest in being evil and owning slaves, perhaps?
Regulation reverse sexism bare chest moment
Some random swordplay with Irish Ned will not make up for the absence of topless scything. It was excellent swordplay, though. In desperation, we had to content ourselves with Tess Tregidden channelling the Single White Female wishes of every female in the land, ransacking Demelza’s dressing-up box as she muttered: “’Tis not the only thing of hers do sit better on me …”
Next week
Another mining accident! We haven’t had a mining accident in a while. Meanwhile, Sir Evil George is rapidly descending into madness – and he’s got a gun. And just when we thought Morwenna could put her old life behind her, the pig’s-tail-buttocked-vicar’s mother is back to remind her of the horror of the pig’s-tail-buttocked years.
