Jack Kibble-White on political dramas

First published April 2003

Amongst the successes of programmes such as Auf Wiedersehen, Pet, Spooks, The Gathering Storm and Smallpox 2002: Silent Weapon, 2002 saw something of a mini-resurgence in a dramatic genre that has in the past produced some of the most acclaimed television dramas of all time. Between them The West Wing, The Falklands Play, Jeffery Archer: The Truth and The Project represented the diversity of writing that can be found within the collection of television productions labelled “political dramas”.

There has been a steady trickle of such works on British television over the last 15 or so years. As we shall see, political dramas appeal equally to writers seeking to examine injustices as they do to those simply seeking a platform on which to explore particular character-types. With that in mind, we’re going to take a look at some of the more memorable examples of British political drama over the last decade and a half and attempt to identify how the genre has been used to tell a different types of stories.

A Very British Coup (1988) began life as a novel written by lifelong Labour supporter and editor of left wing magazine Tribune, Chris Mullin. The original idea was formulated on a train journey back from the 1980 Labour Party conference. At that time it seemed that there was a real possibility that Tony Benn might become the leader of the Labour Party. Mullin began to hypothesise with his fellow passengers what might happen if Benn actually became elected Labour Party leader, and then Prime Minister. The resulting “what if” discussion led Mullin to write A Very British Coup. The novel examined whether or not the Americans would allow a truly left wing government to remain in power in the United Kingdom. Mullin’s hypothesis was that this would not be tolerated, and that the Americans would seek to destabilise the government, using the British establishment to force them out.

A number of television companies expressed an interest in bringing A Very British Coup to the small screen. For a time it appeared that Granada Television were going to produce a version for ITV. But it was to Parallax Pictures and Skreba Films who eventually turned the novel into a three part series for Channel 4. Screened in 1988, A Very British Coup proved to be a highly effective and memorable television drama, highly regarded at the time and still well remembered today (the series was voted 66th best television programme of all time in a recent BFI industry poll). The series’ success can be attributed to a number of factors, not least Ray McAnally’s stunning performance as the newly elected Prime Minister Harry Perkins, and Mick Jackson’s confident and ambitious direction. However, the script too deserves special mention.

Mullin is on record as claiming absolute satisfaction with Plater’s script, suggesting that the television version is even superior to his original novel. Such an unusually generous response is even more surprising when one considers that Plater changed the ending of A Very British Coup quite significantly (at the end of the novel it is clear that Harry Perkins has been removed from power, yet in the television series the conclusion is more ambiguous suggesting that Perkins has succeeded in creating a mandate for even more open government).

Clearly, the quality of Plater’s writing is a significant factor in fulfilling Mullin’s expectations, yet there is a case to be made that the relative political alignment between novelist and scriptwriter enabled a transition from page to screen that, whilst not a completely faithful reproduction, captured the underlying hypothesis and values that informed the original text. The script’s eloquent evocation of Mullin’s original message and consistency with the novelist’s original themes proved to be at the core of the series’ profound success.

In contrast, Andrew Davies’ adaptation of Michael Dobbs’ House of Cards demonstrates that political discord between scriptwriter and novelist can sometimes work in favour of the finished product.

Like Chris Mullin before him, Dobbs played an active role in politics during and after the period that House of Cards (and its two sequels) were written. Indeed, by the time that Dobbs came to write House of Cards he had been close to the centre of British political power for over 10 years, working closely with Norman Tebbit in particular, on the Conservative Party’s 1987 General Election campaign.

Conversely, at the time scriptwriter Andrew Davies was best known for his iconoclastic, and decidedly non-paternalistic BBC2 drama series A Very Peculiar Practice (1986 – 1988). That series’ liberal agenda and rampant distrust of institution and authority seemed to conflict in every way with the Conservative Party – and Michael Dobbs’ own – political beliefs. Consequently, it came as little surprise that Davies’ 1990 adaptation of House of Cards was very different from Dobbs’ original novel.

Like Plater before him, Davies changed the plot of his source material such that the central figure remained unbeaten. Yet whilst Plater’s adaptation of A Very British Coup still “felt” entirely faithful to Mullin’s original novel, the television version of House of Cards was entirely different to Dobbs’ version. Davies had turned a novel that explored one individual’s (Francis Urquhart) lust for power into a satire on the Machiavellian machinations of the Tory Party (complete with Shakespearian asides to the audience). In the process Davies subverted the novel’s crucial central relationship between Urquhart (played superbly by Ian Richardson) and reporter Mattie Storin (Susannah Harker) creating a bizarre emotional dependency between the two. This extra dimension added an additional thematic sub text to Dobbs’ original work, encouraging the viewer to recognise within Urquhart’s treatment, and eventual disposal of Storin similarities to how our politicians treat us.

House of Cards mad