Tag Archives: PBS Dramas

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries: My Show for All Seasons

04 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by in Feminism, Pushpins (Daily Life)

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My Netflix habits are stupidly predictable. Every time I open up my laptop, or power up my PS3, the same sequence of inane ritual ensues: I stare long and hard at my current video queue, mostly containing television shows my friends recommended and intellectual films I found compelling, at least in theory, when I hadn’t had a busy day at work, or, been chasing after a lively three-year-old who was happily determined to vanquish all of the monsters in my apartment (they live in the upholstery, apparently). Should I watch the American House of Cards? No. I’m not in the mood to watch people be crafty, amoral, douche-canoes to each other. How about Broadchurch? Oh God, no. David Tennant without a Scottish accent makes my heart melancholy (seriously, the world is a much sadder, blander place if Mr. Tennant isn’t gustily rolling his r’s). War of the Buttons? Le Sigh. Not at all. I’m too tired to struggle through the French and watch people, especially young children in Nazi occupied France, be horrible to each other.

Media, media everywhere, but not a thing to watch.

I then quickly scroll through the other suggestion lists that orderly present themselves on the screen. I’ve watched pretty much everything from the “Period Drama Featuring a Strong Female Lead,” section. Heck, I’ve been watching and reading stuff in that category since I was twelve. The same goes for ” Film Based on a Book.” Usually, I’ve already read the book and don’t want the film to ruin it—or, I’ve already watched the film, because I read the book. “Quirky Independent Films” are never quirky or independent enough for me and “Action and Adventure” only catches my eye when the Marvel Universe or Neil Gaiman are doing the storytelling…or, if Daniel Craig is running around being James Bond.

I sigh. Media, media everywhere, but not a thing to watch. Then I laugh. There, in my “Watch it Again” section, is the face of a high-cheekboned women with a black bob and a white cloche hat.

“Well Miss Fisher, it looks like I’ll be watching you—yet again.”

If you aren’t familiar with Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, I highly recommend that you look into it (or at least watch the above trailer to see if it’s for you). Shown on both the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and PBS, the show’s two seasons follow the adventures of the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, modern woman and clever lady detective, and her circle of lively, eccentric, compassionate, friends and colleagues. These adventures take Miss Fisher and the viewer through the decadent and difficult world of 1920s Melbourne, complete with jazz clubs and anarchists and couture fashion and rum smugglers and post World War trauma and lots and lots of glamorous parties.

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries is my show for all seasons. It’s writing and visual aesthetics never fail to engage me, no matter how tired my brain is. If my brain is completely shot after a long day, I can enjoy Inspector Jack Robinson’s expressive, grey-blue eyes, Miss Fisher’s stunning Art Deco wardrobe, and all the handsome fellows Miss Fisher sensitively and unapologetically makes out with. But, if my brain wants to be more engaged, I can marvel at the show’s fastidious historical detail, allowing my imagination to enter the world of 1920s Melbourne and experience its joys and worries as my own. And, if I am in full possession of my faculties, I can contemplate the beautifully written, real, complex main character. As a main female character on a popular television show, Phryne leaves me breathless. She is how women should be written—as capable, yet vulnerable human beings, full of strengths, weaknesses, and quirks. This is a character who is the sum of her experiences, and those experiences are pretty horrific: a sister murdered in her childhood, the horrors of WWI (where she served as a medic), an abusive relationship in her early twenties…yet, she lives her life with joy in the face of the trauma and the grief. Sometimes, those experiences paralyze her, but those experiences also make her compassionate, generous, and courageous. One of the things that keeps me coming back is watching her struggle with her past while boldly propelling herself into her future, determined to learn and to live life to the hilt.

Wild Jazz begins to blast from my speakers. Unlike an American sounding David Tennant, watching an episode of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries for the fifth time doesn’t make my heart melancholy. It makes my heart pretty darn happy.

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Miss Mardle and Florian: Mr. Selfridge’s fiction within a fiction

07 Wednesday May 2014

Posted by in Pushpins (Daily Life), The Creative Life

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I have a weakness for PBS historical dramas. A weakness that’s real, slightly ridiculous, and just a tad bit embarrassing. Every Sunday night, I crawl into bed, ready to watch the latest installment of Masterpiece. The current series on air is Mr. Selfridge, a British drama about the birth and success of London’s famous department store, Selfridge’s. And, good grief, is it sumptuous, scandalous, and fairly accurate in its depiction of early 20th Century London.

Because a department store needs many people to run it, the series has multiple characters, living out their stories within and without the store’s marbled halls. I find that each storyline is rather thoughtful and interesting because it is based on the outcome and the implications of the characters’ daily actions, rather than on the characters’ responses to bombastic, shocking, barely believable plot twists (::cough::cough:: Downton Abbey). This keeps the drama in the quiet, the mundane, and the daily.

I’m particularly drawn to the Miss Mardle / Florian storyline. Miss Mardle is the the head of ladies’ accessories. She is middle-aged and unmarried. In Season One, she was entangled in a love affair with the married Mr. Grove, who, upon the death of his wife, promptly married a much younger women, while suggesting to Miss Mardle that they continue seeing each other. Miss Mardle was able to tell Grove to stuff it, with all the gracious firmness of a proper Edwardian lady, but the event left her deeply wounded, unsure of her own worth and lovableness.

Then comes Season Two and earnest, sweet, handsome Florian. A young Belgium violinist, exiled from his country due to the beginning of World War I, travels to England and becomes Miss Mardle’s lodger. It isn’t long before the two develop a mutual attraction and admiration for each other. And there are plenty of longing looks, blushing, and abruptly ended conversations. Basically, all the things that make a British love story so awesome and awkward.

Yet, even more compelling than romantic awkwardness, is how Miss Mardle responds to their mutual attraction. Though it is a shared experience of mutual attraction, her past experience with Mr. Grove, and the stories she’s learned to tell herself about how that experience defines her life, keep the mutual attraction from being shared. I find this beautiful and sweet scene to be an excellent example of her struggle and her self-realization:

Miss Mardle cannot see the goodness, the honesty, and the love that is right in front of her because she still chooses to live with a narrative that makes her feel unlovable. It is only when she decides to see what is front of her first and narrate the situation later, that she can finally allow Florin’s earnest sweetness to be part of her story. Her new story.

Miss Mardle is creating fiction within Mr. Selfridge’s fiction. Yet somehow, in this creating of fiction there is a cementing of a deep human truth:  Stories are powerful. We tell them to remember, to solidify, and to redefine. Every morning, when we emerge from sleep, the experiences of our past and the fantasies of our future weave together, creating our stories of the present. These are the narratives that will either close us off to the goodness, honesty, and love around us—or, open us up to it.