In 2017, Even Our Heroes Disappoint
The third season of “Poldark” is a downer. (Spoiler alert)
My husband and I have physically cringed more than once while watching season 3 of Poldark via Masterpiece Theater/PBS. Not because the perverted priest gives us the wrong kind of chills. Rather, our visible discomfort stems from the fact that every character established as a hero in season one is effectively falling from grace.
Ross Poldark, the title character, leads the pack in this charge. In fact, his failings are so great the viewer somehow manages to feel sympathy for the story’s established villain, the despicable George Warleggan. This series has been one of self-flagellation for Ross, the guilt of his sin against his wife Demelza and first love Elizabeth hanging heavy over his head. He may advise Demelza to outrun ghosts, but he cannot outrun the consequences of his one-night stand with Elizabeth at the climax of series 2. The guilt he carries weighs on every episode until finally we reach #8 in which he confronts the reality that her son Valentine may, indeed, be his own and therefore …advises Elizabeth to lie to her husband George Warleggan in order to reinforce their marriage before nearly making out with her.
The whole scene takes place in a church, no less and no doubt to set the stage for some kind of redemptive moment that is quashed by the sight of Prudie acting as an untimely, unsuspecting witness.
The scene came at the culmination of an episode filled with grotesque sins committed against women by their husbands. Warleggan approaches Dr. Enys in confidence to inquire as to whether or not his son was truly born premature; disgusted by the unspoken assertions against Elizabeth’s character, Enys responds to Warleggan’s threat of secrecy with a taught reminder that he is both a physician and a gentleman. Enys then has to attend to poor Morwenna Whitworth who has been repeatedly sexually brutalized by her perverted priest spouse. It’s a day that leaves the good doctor in as miserable a stead as the show’s audience. The sad truth of it is that while Ross may hold Demelza’s character in high regard and respect her well enough in the bedroom, his crimes against her are no less heartbreaking.
Enter Hugh Armitage, the dashing navigator who manages to fall in love with the wife of the man who rescued him. He presents himself as the suffering servant to Demelza’s affections, but she is right in calling him the snake in the Garden. Even the war hero soon to be rendered blind from his injuries is no saint when it comes to how he treats his so-called beloved. When did it ever become heroic to pursue a married woman, let alone pressure her into being unfaithful to her husband? The man who saved your life, no less?
Yet, Demelza wavers. Ross, so consumed with his own guilt over the Elizabeth affair, wavers as well. He pushes Demelza away time and time again, sometimes unwittingly and sometimes deliberately (“You should look elsewhere for a pet!” he advises Demelza after she rebukes him for never seeking her advice) all the while recognizing the threat in his midst posed by Armitage. Does he truly think she’d be better without him? Or does he feel somehow that if she were to do to him what he did to her they’d be even somehow? Or is it that he simply feels so worthless that he also feels powerless to hold onto her love?
This series is based in large part on The Four Swans, Graham’s book in the Poldark series focusing on the four women in Ross’s life: Demelza, Elizabeth, Caroline Penvenen-Enys and Morwenna Chynoweth-Whitworth. One of the commentaries I came across mentioned that Graham focused on how harshly women were treated by their husbands and society at large during that time period. The author described himself as an “instinctive feminist” and to his credit held nothing back in his portrayal of the gross physical and emotional crimes committed against women by men acculturated to the belief in marriage as a proprietorial institution. The sad thing for the viewer is that Ross, previously framed as the liberal thinker with a strong belief in equality and almost anachronistic respect and admiration for his wife, ultimately fails to live up to his own high standards. And it is those high standards, not the charming visage of Aidan Turner, with which the viewer ultimately falls in love.
Will there be any heroes left by the time this series ends? Or just a collection of villains and victims? Can a show that began with such promising ideals permit itself to fail us so miserably?
