Press on Masterpiece

I missed the WSJ review of this six-part BBC series on the drama of two rival UK newspapers, The Post, a tabloid that is quite similar to our own New York Post, and owned by a media titan who doesn't act like Rupert Murdoch, but is, and The Herald, the left-leaning, far less sensational paper that is struggling mightily against The Post.

I've watched four of the six episodes so far shown on our PBS station WLIW21. I only stumbled onto the series after seeing a promo for it on another WLIW show I was watching from the DVR. Lucky me.

I love good newspaper stories, and this one is a beaut. Dorothy Rabinowitz (who once did write for the New York Post), in her review is entirely accurate that while the fearlessness—with all the right journalistic qualities—of the female lead, Charlotte Riley as Holly Evans, makes her the heroine, Ben Chaplin as Duncan Allen hardly comes across as a villain. We start to like him.

I love inverted British names. Duncan Allen. Either name could be a first or last name. Somewhat like a car ferry that goes back and forth with the bow that is later is the stern when returning from the other shore. Like Robert James. Billy Elliot. They're great.

Holly's accent has a touch of a Scottish burr, which is understandable since the actress is from a county in Northern England that nearly abuts Scotland. In the BBC production of the detective series 'Vera,' DCI Vera Stanhope, played by Brenda Blethyn  and others in the cast all have a bit of the same burr, because the 'Northumberland and City police' is quite close to Scotland. Mr. Blethyn is also from Northern England, where the Scottish burr must creep into speech.

Duncan Allen does steal the show. Ms. Rabinowitz is correct that rather than boo his character we are completely charmed by it. His flexible logic is so flexible it might seem he could convince you that what you think is the worst thing in the world, is really the best thing in the world. He gets the best dialogue. It's almost Shakespearean. Typical British.

It is great to see David Suchet, who most of us are accustomed to seeing him play Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot, glide into the newsroom as the owner of the enterprise, George Emmerson (how British; two m's) without a mustache, and make himself clear to his star editor-in-chief in soft tones and raised eyebrows.

Duncan Allen is a force in the land. He can meet the Prime Minister, and piss him off when the PM and his family appear in a front page photo adjacent to an accused sexual predator character, á la Harvey Weinstein, Joshua West, who has to take refuge in his private club when The Post starts its story about his predatory liaisons.

Holly gains access to this burnished, glowing, soft amber lighted, leather padded lair and confronts Mr. West. It does seem amazing that she gets as far into the place as she does wearing a raincoat and jeans lugging a purse that couldn't fit in the overhead. She is almost a female Detective Columbo. Her conversation with Joshua doesn't go well, or does it? You'll have to watch.

Duncan gets to meet the PM at least twice so far. In the second face-to-face, the tea and biscuits are withdrawn from the table at Downing Street by a statuesque female assistant who is as brusque as the PM when Duncan doesn't please the PM. It's great.

So far, this is the first series I immediately want to watch again.

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