Review by Susan SheaTipping The Velvet I didn't know it was possible, you know, It's on every lesbo lit fan's top ten list. Hot, romantic and deliciously rich in period detail, Sarah Waters' acclaimed novel Tipping The Velvet recently came to Canadian cable in a visually stunning screen adaptation. Originally produced by the BBC, and adapted by Andrew Davies (Pride and Prejudice), PrideVision aired the North American premiere of the three-part drama in November. For the few lesbians alive not familiar with the Waters classic, Tipping The Velvet is the lesbian coming of age story of a humble oyster girl, Nan Astley, set in the streets and music halls of nineteenth century London. Little documentation exists of lesbian life during this period but Davies and director Geoff Sax, channeling Waters, reconstruct a dazzling, emotionally and sexually charged atmosphere that feels completely authentic. Seldom do television or film productions live up to demanding readers' impressions of a favourite book, especially one so thematically and visually challenging as Tipping The Velvet, and expectations for the adaptation were very high. Davies doesn't disappoint. Scrupulously faithful to the spirit of the novel, he also manages to put his own stylistic stamp upon it. Impressionistic and slightly surreal, Tipping The Velvet is a closer cousin to Moulin Rouge than to the stodgy period drama you might expect to see on the telly. Beautifully yet unconventionally photographed, judicious use is made of a quasi music-video editing style that captures the whimsical quality of Waters' "lesbo Victorian romp". The rehearsal shots of her act with Kitty that intercut Nan's first music hall performance scene, for example, lend a charm and intimacy to the women's growing romantic connection, and leave the viewer wanting more.  Stellar casting complements the high production values. Nan Astley is played by Rachael Stirling (real life daughter of Diana Rigg) with just the right mix of vulnerable innocence and a refreshing directness about who and what she is. Keeley Hawes gives the character Kitty a mesmerizing charm; bringing Nan's oyster-scented hand to her lips, the mortified Nan is artfully told she smells "like a mermaid" and is helplessly drawn into Kitty's hypnotic gaze. Nan's other "sweethearts", the wonderfully decadent Diana (Anna Chancellor) and the subtly textured Florence (Jodhi May) round out a totally memorable cast of lesbian characters. Rarely have we witnessed such powerful chemistry between two female leads as Nan and Kitty create together. Nan's utter infatuation is plain to see from the moment she sets eyes on Kitty in her strutting, pretty-boy stage persona. It's the story's pivotal, queer moment, and the camera knows it, lingering on Nan's expression of barely restrained desire not only to be with the gorgeous woman onstage, but to be like her, with the power and freedom to act as a boy. In this instant, she understands instinctively what has been missing from her life. Kitty's first exposure to a similarly butched-up Nan elicits from her the same kind of sexual longing. The original drag kings, Kitty and Nan are as irresistibly Lesbian to one another in their costumes as they are to us.  The important question on everyone's mind, of course, is "how do the sex scenes translate"? The answer: breathtakingly. More explicit lesbian love scenes you will not find on a television drama. They are by turns tender, passionate, and intensely erotic, but never gratuitous or exploitative. Even the dildo sequences with the sleazy and predatory Diana have a certain raunchy tastefulness, if that makes sense. Not to ruin the story for the unspoiled, suffice it to say Nan's journey is not all roses as, through her many adventures, she comes to experience all of life's sweetness as well as its thorns. But at the heart of it all lies a single constant: Nan's irrepressible need for a woman's love: Diana: I know all I need to know about you. You're like me. You showed it last night and you're showing it now. You hunger for your own sex. You hunger for the pleasure I can give you, don't you? Critics may find some of the novel's nicer complexities missing; the central role homophobia plays, for example, in driving Nan and Kitty apart. Some may also point to a few liberties Davies has taken. The ending, for instance, was altered slightly, presumably to create a more suspenseful climax. For some, it may seem too neat a conclusion for Waters' sprawling epic. Others, including the author herself, found the screen version of Nan a little too pretty and substantially less butch than the Nan of their imagination. Overall though, Waters (at a recent Toronto appearance) said she was quite pleased with the screen treatment of her novel. The UK premiere of Tipping The Velvet aired to 5 million viewers, a testament to its universal appeal (but more likely to the titillating "deviant" sexual content widely promoted by the mainstream press). Certainly everyone will relate to its central themes of lost innocence, self-discovery, betrayal, and redemption, but it's the exquisitely documented emergence of lesbian identity that will resonate with queer viewers, and marks the TV drama as the first of its kind. Consider the gutless North American networks who shrink from a chaste, same-sex kiss and lately have cut lesbian/gay content from their programming by a full two thirds. Kudos must go to the BBC for bringing this fully realized lesbian love story to a mainstream audience; to PrideVision for recognizing excellence and the need for a range of gay and lesbian representation; to Andrew Davies for his creative yet true interpretation; and finally, and most importantly, to the brilliant Sarah Waters who makes our history live. Now available on DVD. Discuss this topic on our message board! |
Info(GB 2002)Premiere:
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