Quarter 4 Reviews- 013 Adaptation - Old

013 Adaptation – Old

I was very pleased to get to hear the second Rouletabille story, The Perfume of the Lady in Black, the sequel to Gaston Leroux’s The Mystery of the Yellow Room, and found it remarkably modern.  I’m astounded it hasn’t been adapted for TV or film (in English).  Most of the characters from the first story are back, to wit:  Rouletabille (Nicholas Boulton), his sidekick Sainclair (Charles Simpson), their foe Larson (Geoffrey Whitehead), and Larson’s intended victim, Mathilde (Suzanna Hamilton).  However, the story begins with Larson’s apparent demise in a ship explosion followed by his rise from the dead to torment his ex-wife Mathilde, who is finally marrying the man she wants to marry because her husband is “dead.”  In classic locked room fashion, Larson tries to kill Mathilde, though eventually Rouletabille exposes his methods.  However, much more difficult for Rouletabille is coming to terms with the Lady in Black who is the only mourner at Larson’s funeral.  Originally from 2000, it was adapted by Stephen Sheridan and directed by David Blount.  

I was rather interested to find that the early 2000s TV adaptation of Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake followed this radio one (from 1984) very closely, indeed to the point where I feel like Jonathan Rhys Meyers’ performance as Steerpike was modeled closely on Sting’s. Adapted by Brian Sibley, famous for his radio adaptations of Lord of the Rings, this adaptation had no problem taking on the impossibly huge.  Sting was more than up to the task of playing Steerpike.   The cast is also a collection of Doctor Who alumni (whether they had yet appeared in the show in 1984 or would subsequently do so), with Sheila Hancock as dotty sisters Clarice and Cora, Cyril Shaps as ancient servitor Flay, and Maurice Denham as Barquentine.  Moreover, John Sessions’ performance as Dr Prunesquallor (from the TV adaptation) seems very similar to Bernard Hepton’s here.  David Warner is, moreover, a better Sepulchrave than was Nigel Hawthorne, and Hilda Schroder’s Nannie Slagg seems much more sympathetic than the one portrayed on TV.  The story of Keda (Melinda Walker), Rantel (Graham Blockey), and Braigon (Peter Acre) made as little sense as ever.  The narration by the Artist (Freddie Jones), as orchestrated by the clearly experienced Sibley, worked very well in helping a listener trying to identify this vast range of weird characters.  There were other excellent touches as well, such as the sound device of Flay’s kneecaps clicking every time he walked.  I hope I get to hear the next part of the saga at some point. It was directed by Glyn Dearman.