With last year's 100th anniversary of the start of the First World War, and moving towards the 100th anniversary of the landings at Gallipoli next month, the past six months have seen some very good TV drama on a conflict which has previously seen little attention except for the odd documentary. "Gallipoli" has followed on the heels of "Anzac Girls", which gave us the till now unsung story of the nurses accompanying the ANZAC troops in the First World War, whose bravery and contribution has been largely ignored. "Anzac Girls" set an impressive standard; "Gallipoli" has certainly kept that up.
This British-led campaign to capture the Gallipoli Peninsula in Turkey in 1915 was largely written off by Britain and France as a succession of blunders, and an escapade best forgotten; in contrast, it is seen by Australians and New Zealanders as a national 'baptism of fire' that consolidated the process of forging two new, young nations into what they would become. The sufferings and huge per capita numbers of casualties became a source of pride, such that Anzac Day (the anniversary of the first landings on 25 April) has been observed since the end of that war as a national day of commemoration in both nations. We should also not forget how important it was for the Turks too, who saw it similarly as the catalyst for the birth of their modern Turkey under their Gallipoli hero, Kemal Ataturk.
So how can you do a national legend justice in film and TV? Previous efforts have often been weighed down by an often awkward tweaking of history to create clear goodies and baddies (incompetent, mostly British generals filling this role). One reviewer on this webpage complains that not enough is seen of the New Zealanders, that even though New Zealand characters do come into the story there is not enough of their story told. Another mildly criticises the depiction of the Turks and similarly calls for more emphasis. But essentially this miniseries views the campaign not through a wide-angle lens, but through one with a fairly narrow focus. The story is experienced through the eyes of a small group of fictional Australians sharing a journey through an increasing hell, the likes of which none of them had ever anticipated. That's why the focus is reasonably narrow, and it's all the better for telling this story.
That lens is also a zoom lens, however; and at times we zoom back out to follow the true experiences of the war correspondents covering the campaign, who want to tell the real story of the military disaster unfolding, but can't because of military censorship. And finally, the zoom pulls back to the last group of fleshed-out characters - the remotely located (and minded) General Staff officers, who have more understanding of the tactics, logistics and considerations of the classical Greek and Trojan heroes of their public school education than of the new modern warfare they are supposed to be managing.
It is impressive that the overall excellent writing and direction constructs even these situationally incompetent officers as real, layered characters. So even when the completely out of his depth General Sir Ian Hamilton is relieved of his command and recalled to London in quiet disgrace, he still evokes sympathy - even though we have been wishing for this moment since the first episode. And the scripted criticism is for once even-handed: inflexible and initiative-lacking Australian officers who cause the useless deaths of many Aussies are depicted as equally culpable, in contrast to some earlier productions that diverted blame to the British.
The script, written by Christopher Lee (and adapted from Les Carlyon's history of the campaign), is mostly very well-crafted and leaves just enough unsaid. Certainly, the subplot of the 'love triangle' between Tolly, Bevan and Celia seems a bit of an intrusion at first. But if you watch to the end this becomes a unifying theme, and the key to Tolly's actions. And it is resolved finally in the most low-key, unexpected, but satisfying way.
Glendyn Ivin's direction is adventurous - including his direct-to-camera looks by lead actor Kodi Smit-McPhee at significant points in the narrative. Potentially dangerous cinematically, but so appropriate here. All is backed up by the excellent cinematography of Germain McMicking and the beautifully evocative score by Stephen Rae, which complement each other and the action just so fittingly.
Acting was uniformly excellent. I can't think of anyone who could garner a negative comment, and particularly impressive were Kodi Smit-McPhee as Tolly and John Bach as General Sir Ian Hamilton.
It is a testament to just how well this script has brought to life characters for whom we come to deeply care, that we are left wondering in the end what the writer's thoughts might have been as to whether our remaining fictional heroes would have survived the campaign on the Western Front they were soon to join. And whether they would finally have returned home to build the lives that were suggested they might have.
Even the weaving of a bullet into this interesting tapestry and its literal resurfacing in the end create an entirely appropriate epilogue.
This British-led campaign to capture the Gallipoli Peninsula in Turkey in 1915 was largely written off by Britain and France as a succession of blunders, and an escapade best forgotten; in contrast, it is seen by Australians and New Zealanders as a national 'baptism of fire' that consolidated the process of forging two new, young nations into what they would become. The sufferings and huge per capita numbers of casualties became a source of pride, such that Anzac Day (the anniversary of the first landings on 25 April) has been observed since the end of that war as a national day of commemoration in both nations. We should also not forget how important it was for the Turks too, who saw it similarly as the catalyst for the birth of their modern Turkey under their Gallipoli hero, Kemal Ataturk.
So how can you do a national legend justice in film and TV? Previous efforts have often been weighed down by an often awkward tweaking of history to create clear goodies and baddies (incompetent, mostly British generals filling this role). One reviewer on this webpage complains that not enough is seen of the New Zealanders, that even though New Zealand characters do come into the story there is not enough of their story told. Another mildly criticises the depiction of the Turks and similarly calls for more emphasis. But essentially this miniseries views the campaign not through a wide-angle lens, but through one with a fairly narrow focus. The story is experienced through the eyes of a small group of fictional Australians sharing a journey through an increasing hell, the likes of which none of them had ever anticipated. That's why the focus is reasonably narrow, and it's all the better for telling this story.
That lens is also a zoom lens, however; and at times we zoom back out to follow the true experiences of the war correspondents covering the campaign, who want to tell the real story of the military disaster unfolding, but can't because of military censorship. And finally, the zoom pulls back to the last group of fleshed-out characters - the remotely located (and minded) General Staff officers, who have more understanding of the tactics, logistics and considerations of the classical Greek and Trojan heroes of their public school education than of the new modern warfare they are supposed to be managing.
It is impressive that the overall excellent writing and direction constructs even these situationally incompetent officers as real, layered characters. So even when the completely out of his depth General Sir Ian Hamilton is relieved of his command and recalled to London in quiet disgrace, he still evokes sympathy - even though we have been wishing for this moment since the first episode. And the scripted criticism is for once even-handed: inflexible and initiative-lacking Australian officers who cause the useless deaths of many Aussies are depicted as equally culpable, in contrast to some earlier productions that diverted blame to the British.
The script, written by Christopher Lee (and adapted from Les Carlyon's history of the campaign), is mostly very well-crafted and leaves just enough unsaid. Certainly, the subplot of the 'love triangle' between Tolly, Bevan and Celia seems a bit of an intrusion at first. But if you watch to the end this becomes a unifying theme, and the key to Tolly's actions. And it is resolved finally in the most low-key, unexpected, but satisfying way.
Glendyn Ivin's direction is adventurous - including his direct-to-camera looks by lead actor Kodi Smit-McPhee at significant points in the narrative. Potentially dangerous cinematically, but so appropriate here. All is backed up by the excellent cinematography of Germain McMicking and the beautifully evocative score by Stephen Rae, which complement each other and the action just so fittingly.
Acting was uniformly excellent. I can't think of anyone who could garner a negative comment, and particularly impressive were Kodi Smit-McPhee as Tolly and John Bach as General Sir Ian Hamilton.
It is a testament to just how well this script has brought to life characters for whom we come to deeply care, that we are left wondering in the end what the writer's thoughts might have been as to whether our remaining fictional heroes would have survived the campaign on the Western Front they were soon to join. And whether they would finally have returned home to build the lives that were suggested they might have.
Even the weaving of a bullet into this interesting tapestry and its literal resurfacing in the end create an entirely appropriate epilogue.