To Serve Them All My Days

To Serve Them All My Days, really is a powerfully moving series and, like most film and television surrounding wars, speaks powerfully about its subject while keeping it firmly embedded in a tale appealing to those on either side of the fence.

The first episodes, depicting the young, limping shellshocked soldier David Powlett-Jones arriving at Bamfylde, and slowly making his way, growing stronger and forging bonds while earning respect with the students are powerful and moving.

If the later episodes involving romance, marriage and political machinations of the school system become a tad "soap operatic" - the same can be said of the best series today (The Sopranos, Dead Like Me, etc.) - and like those, the level of acting and commitment to the telling of the story at hand is impressive and never less than entertaining.

The cast is impressive, with affecting performances: John Duttine captures every bit of nervousness and one cannot help but route for his Powlett-Jones. Frank Middlemass and Patricia Lawrence as Algy and Ellie Herries are strong, sympathetic and make a formidable team. The brilliant Alan McNaughtan is amazing as Howarth keeping things from ever turning maudlin or saccharine and injects a beautifully jaundiced eye into the proceedings.

You can't go wrong with this set.

This was my favorite of the BBC serials that played on "Masterpiece Theatre," and 25 years later I find it just as charming and touching as I remembered. It's one of many variants (others are "Shogun, "All Creatures Great and Small," etc.) of the idyll some of us yearn for and, never finding, regard as irresistibly poignant: the story of a person who finds his perfect place in the world. In watching it again I discovered I practically didn't have to; I'd seen it so many times, and absorbed myself in it so thoroughly, that it had become part of my mental furniture. John Duttine was an unusual, compelling actor who gave what I think were splendid performances in this, the "Day of the Triffids" serial, and an episode of a BBC ghost series, and then seemed more or less to have vanished, to the viewers' loss.

The one big thing which strikes me now about this series is the bounciness of the supporting cast. There can never have been any more exuberant actors than Frank Middlemass, Belinda Lang, etc.; even Alan MacNaughtan, whose character is written as world-weary and cynical, comes across as lively and cheerful. Into the midst of this exuberant crowd enters a disillusioned war veteran--Duttine, an intense, introspective, melancholic performer--and the effect is as if he were brought out of himself by being caught up in a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta (and indeed, at one point the school stages "The Mikado"). Though the story is filled with anxiety and sorrow, the whole thing seems somehow like a party, and as such a sort of litmus test for one's capacity to enjoy life. Those who have it will have a grand time; those who don't won't understand why, and will probably leave early. For my part, I loved it, and feel grateful to have been invited.

Even before the television adaptation, "To Serve Them All My Days" was one of my favourite books - like Robert Goddard's "In Pale Batallions", it's one of those books that I keep coming back to time after time. Having been to a public school myself for four years, I can identify with many of the traditions and rituals, and the rather pathetic life both of the boarders and the staff: what was true in the 1920s at Bamfylde was largely still true in the 1970s at my school.

With a few minor exceptions, the television version does great justice to the book. John Duttine is exactly as I imagined David Powlett-Jones: diffident and shell-shocked to begin with, but gradually growing in confidence to become eventually a well-respected and much-loved teacher and headmaster. I cannot imagine anyone else except Frank Middlemass as Algy Herries - his fruity voice and bumbling manner are perfect. Charles Kay's portrayal of the soul-less, embittered killjoy Alcock is utterly menacing. And Alan MacNaughtan manages to capture the irascible and yet ultimately very pathetic nature of Howarth, the teacher who has devoted his whole life to the school.

The three women - Beth, Julia and Christine - in David's life are very different from one another. Belinda Lang is heart-meltingly gorgeous as Beth, the elfin, nineteen-year-old "catalyst in a beret" who quite literally sets her cap at David while he is on holiday in Colwyn Bay. After the tragic death of her and the twins, David has a brief affair with Julia Darbyshire (Kim Braden) who is winsome and yet strangely matter-of-fact: definitely mistress material rather than a wife in the making! Sadly, Susan Jameson's portrayal of David's third love, Christine, lacks a certain something - I am left wondering what (apart from her politics) David could find remotely attractive about her.

There are a few differences between the book and the TV adaptation. In the book, Grace, one of the twins, survives the car crash that kills her mother and sister. In the TV version, both sisters are killed. This is no great problem: I've always felt that the character of Grace was rather insipid and a bit too perfect. It would also have made for great difficulties in the filming, requiring a series of actresses to portray her as she gradually grows from a baby into a young woman.

My only regret about the TV adaptation is the ending. The final episode is rather rushed and many important scenes from the book are missing. The most notable is the poignant scene as Howarth is dying of cancer and begs David to let him die at the school rather than in hospital; in the TV version, Howarth simply dies in his sleep while watching a school cricket match. We don't see the scene where an old boy of the school recounts that many years before, after the death of his father, Howarth had offered to pay the boy's fees - a sizable portion of his own salary - because he did not want the boy's talents to go to waste. And we don't see the final scene where, during World War II, a young soldier comes to teach at the school after being invalided out the army, and David recognises all the parallels between this man's beginnings and that of himself twenty years before. He even uses the same phrases that Herries used to him. But none of this makes it to the TV adaptation, which is a great shame.

When this series played on Masterpiece Theatre in the early 80s, I was fortunate enough to live in an area with two PBS stations, each of which played the show twice a week at different times, so was able to watch the series four times through. Several years ago, it was shown again, and my father video-taped it for me, so that when I get the urge, I plunk in my videos and fall in love all over again.

I have seen a number of Masterpiece Theatres over the years, but this one has to be my favorite. The characters are well acted, especially PJ, played by John Duttine (isn't he gorgeous!)--sensitive, passionate, and above all, a survivor. The cynical Howarth is a perfect foil (he reminds me of an old Latin teacher I once had), and the perfect best friend. Then there's the interplay between Algy Herries and his wife (a comfortable couple if I ever saw one). And can anybody help but cringe when the "Noble" Alcock comes aboard? (Hissss)

Although I have my own homemade tapes of this program, I would be happier with a professional set and agree with others who have posted that this one ought to be released. Masterpiece Theatre at its finest.

I saw this first when I was barely a lad of sixteen or so, just at my school-leaving age and going off to university. I was amazed then at how much from 'before the war' remained true to form for school, and watching it again now twenty years later, it stands up to the test of time perfectly well (and I was once again amazed at the true-to-life nature of the whole enterprise). The series won the BAFTA award for the best television series of its year, and rightfully so.

The miniseries is done in thirteen parts, each just under an hour long, as a co-production of the BBC and the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. It was filmed in a real public school, Milton Abbey School in Dorset (not too far from part of the country where the mythical Bamfylde School resides), and many of the 'extras' in school shots are actually school boys of the Milton Abbey School. The settings didn't have to be changed too much to accommodate the inter-war period décor, and of course the architecture for the most part was hundreds of years older.

However well done the sets and images are, this is still a teleplay about relationships and the coming of age, not just of the boys in the school, nor even of the lead character, Mr. Powlett-Jones, but really of the whole of society. The inter-war period in Britain was a fascinating time of societal development, particularly in terms of politics. Delderfield introduces this as an ever-present but never centre stage idea through the dealings of Powlett-Jones, son of a Welsh coal mining family, some of his out-of-school relationships, and the clash that this inevitably sets up with the privileged corps of boys at the school.

In the first episode, David Powlett-Jones has just returned from the trenches in the first world war, wounded both physically and spiritually. He is suspicious of the job offer at this upper-class bastion, but the gentle understanding of the headmaster, Algy Herries, encourages him to stay. His relationships with the other teachers are a fascinating study, particularly the gung-ho-warrior type Carter (whose not-always-disabled knee seems to have kept him out of the war) and the cynic-with-a-good-soul Howarth, who becomes Powlett-Jones' best friend over the course of their life together at Bamfylde.

Howarth chides Powlett-Jones at one point about the kind of monastic life that one can fall into at a remote school such as Bamfylde.

Howarth: Some men can live the celibate life. I don't fancy you're one of them. David Powlett-Jones: What did *you* do about women all these years? Howarth (pausing, smiling): Your appetite for sordid revelations never ceases to astonish me.

Howarth reveals some of his indiscretions (remember, this is post-Victorian England, and the revelations, such as they are, would be considered exceedingly mild by television standards today). Powlett-Jones over the course of his twenty years at Bamfylde ends up with three primary loves; Beth, a young wife who dies early; Julia, someone not to be tied down to a school (or even the island of Britain), but keeps regular if long-separated contact with David over time; and Christine, the failed Labour candidate who becomes his second wife, taking on a role at the school as well, not the least of which is to remind the now-headmaster Powlett-Jones that there is a world outside the still-privileged halls of Bamfylde.

The teleplay is exceedingly well done, with the acting and the writing supporting each other in such a way to give real insight into the psychological make-up of the characters. John Duttine played David Powlett-Jones with a good amount of passion; however, I am torn between Frank Middlemass (as Herries) and Alan MacNaughtan (as Howarth) as to who my favourite actor is in the series. Both bring so much to their roles, and I can see myself in each of them in many ways more so than I can identify with Powlett-Jones. For the women, David's first wife Beth is played by Belinda Lang; Julia is played by Kim Braden (trekkies may recognise her from bit parts both in Star Trek film and series work); Susan Jameson plays Christine, David's second wife (fans of 'Coronation Street' may recognise her from that show). Each of the three is very well suited for their respective roles - Lang plays the young, optimist; Braden plays the worldly, ambitious but sensitive soul; Jameson plays the idealist who comes down to earth, managing to keep her ideals intact.

The play does a good job also of keep the boys from becoming a faceless, anonymous mass (a decided danger, given their uniformity in dress as well as age). There are particular boys who stand out, but one gets the sense from the watching that they are all individuals, and treated as such, both by the careful and caring headmasterly type Harries and Powlett-Jones, as well as the cynical Howarth (and even by the more scathing of the teachers, whose style is no longer in vogue).

The situations are credible, interesting, and instructive. The characters are fully formed and worthwhile. The production values are not to cinematic standards, but hold up very well over time (the lack of lavishness befits the nature of the school and the nature of the time as well).

This remains one of my favourite series of all time. The DVD has few extras, but among them are photographs, background information both on the school and on Delderfield, and the lyrics to the school song (which opens each episode, sung by the congregation of boys), by Kenyon Emrys-Roberts: 'Look ahead to a life worth living, Full of hope, full of faith, full of cheer,...'