Reviews

Though well-done and well-acted, this loose adaptation of the James Swanson book of the same name suffers from over length, forced drama, hyperinflation of Edwin Stanton's* role, and too much departure from facts established by Swanson to be useful as history. Still, Tobias Menzies* is a treat as always, Anthony Boyle and Will Harrison resonate as the doomed assassins of Abraham Lincoln, and Roger Payano delivers a brief but telling performance as John Wilkes Booth's hard-head guide. Fans of period pieces should enjoy Manhunt.

* The real-life Stanton had a chest-length beard; the Stanton of Manhunt is oddly clean-shaven.

One of the better entries in the series, with Milton Berle cast against type as a mild-mannered sheepherder trying to protect his flock while struggling to raise his orphaned niece. The sheepherder "loses" part of his flock to Nick in a card game in the hopes that Barkleys will help him fend off bigoted cattlemen who want to rid the valley of what they see as locusts with wool. Despite being a confirmed sheep-hater, Nick finds himself as an unwilling battler with old friends and neighbors. Berle works well with Peter Breck; their scenes together form the backbone of the episode. Breck a treat as always.

Preposterous account of a supposedly haunted house (based very very very loosely on a true story) grows more ridiculous with each episode, culminating in what may well be the most jaw-droppingly stupid hour in the history of television. Cannivale, who is badly miscast, plays a husband and father who never saw a handle he didn't want to fly off. Watts is as bland as always. Together, they buy a house that they don't need at a price they can't afford so that their kids can "have a room of their own." (Unexplained is the prior sleeping arrangement of a 16-year old sister and her 12-year old brother.) Then the letters start...Inexplicably, this was a hit.

After a promising first hour, Five Days deteriorates into a soap opera that seems to willfully defy credibility. Overacting abounds, with Penelope Wilton winning top (bottom?) honors.. Hugh Bonneville and Edward Woodward are wasted; David Oyelowo's character must be the Worst Grieving Husband in the history of television. Rarely has so much skill at production been held hostage to such a disastrous screenplay (one that revels in irrelevant subplots). Three stars for the first hour-which is quite good-but otherwise...ugh. Anyone who can figure out the purpose of Sarah Smart's character can drop me a line and explain it.

One of the more labored episodes, with more than the usual fisticuffs, that raises the question of why Ray and Ann can send anyone but Tony and Doug back whence they came. According to this episode, DI had some mighty self-sacrificing convicts who fell all over themselves refusing to escape. The script is confused re the historical fact of whether Dreyfus returned to France (Tony is right; Gen. Kirk is wrong). Also, Dreyfus was the only prisoner on Devil's Island.

Solid production is marred by liberal rewriting of Dickens' novel and miscasting of Gillian Anderson. Shaun Dooley is memorable as Joe Gargery, and Ray Winstone makes a fine Magwitch. Like all other versions, this one doesn't hold a candle to the 1944 classic directed by David Lean.

The world's worst 911 dispatcher yells, mugs, and curses his way through an idiotic, unbelievable script about an ex who kidnaps his ex but somehow doesn't take away her phone. Don't waste your time.

The Oldest Briton looks back on life in a rural English village during WWI, much of which he seemingly learned about through constant lurking and eavesdropping. The usual suspects are all here: indomitable mother, alcoholic father, idealistic preacher's kid, grasping bourgeoisie, scheming parvenu, morally bankrupt upper class scion, disillusioned upper class scion, nutso upper class daughter, conchie, and...brother Joe. It's Joe's story that occasionally elevates The Village, especially in E5. Otherwise, it drifts along comfortably, with nice acting-especially from Rupert Evans and the ever-reliable Juliet Stevenson-disguising the pedestrian screenplay.

Slick and well-done, but the vaunted reveals at the end come at the cost of too many obvious plot holes. Why did one character have a certain phone number? Why did another character confide in someone knowing what he knew about yet a third character? And the climax depended on another character making one stupid decision after another. It was like the producer and director had an ending in mind and then force fit the plot into it. That has never yet worked, and it sure doesn't here.

I wouldn't take a commuter flight from DC to LaGuardia if these guys were my flight crew.

Wildly overrated mystery set in an admittedly matchless locale. Tennant blusters his way through a predictable plot and a lost cause of a second season, so much so that DCI Hardy -- when you get a quiet moment (and they are few) -- appears to substitute shouting for competence. Relatively intriguing story lines, such as the romance between the vicar and the hotel owner, are introduced and dropped in the interests of piling on the melodrama, such as one attorney's dubious motivation for taking revenge on the legal system. Across the board, the acting degenerates into a scenery-chewing competition (kudos to Arthur Darville and Lucy Cohu for standing clear); second-season finale is as force-fit as it comes, and in no way justifies a the preposterous dual story lines.

One good thing: A drinking game based on Hardy bawling out "Miller!" and "Claire!" has potential.