Louisa Durrell is a romantic, a dreamer. Somehow she has ended up in Bournemouth on the south coast of England, a drab and dreary place, the weather wet, grey, depressing. She feels misplaced, wants a better, brighter world, and not only for herself. Her husband died a few years ago (in 1928), leaving her with four children to care for. The kids are older now in 1935, but still need nurturing and TLC (tender loving care). She fears for their prospects and futures in England. What they need is what she needs — adventure and a fresh start, new chances, opportunities, experiences. They pack their bags and take a train to the south of France, to Marseilles. From there they sail by steamer to Corfu in Greece. Louisa was 42 in 1935.
Actually, this all happened in Season One of the series. In that season the Durrells were genuine innocents abroad, at least in Greece. But in fact Louisa, like her husband, were children of Empire, both born as expatriates in British India. For them England was an idea, an abstraction, a rumour. In truth they grew up not as islanders but as citizens of the world. It’s hard enough sometimes to go home when you have a home to go to, but even harder when you don’t. The green and pleasant land of England was not theirs. They were in passage through it. Given this, Louisa’s spontaneous decision to up stakes and move her entire brood to Corfu makes sense. India was the start, England a kind of purgatory, Corfu perhaps the solution, the promised land.
Three seasons on and it is looking like this, Corfu the place where the Durrells were meant to be. They have settled in now, learned bits of the language and mastered some of the local mores. They’ve become more old-fashioned, courteous, polite, but also more self-sufficient and independent. They are no longer English in spirit, if they ever were. The Mediterranean feels like home, as does the sunshine in it. They arrived pale and wane, adrift and disoriented. Now they are tanned and healthy, centred and confident. They feel they belong, and the locals make efforts to help them feel this way. Season Three thus becomes a display of mutual love between the Durrells and the Greeks, hosts the Durrells have come to adore. But life is never complete without heartache. There are some tears in this season. Those of Louisa, of Spiros, a married Greek man she cares for, and those of two or three young Greek women whom second-son Leslie has (simultaneously) fallen for. This cannot end well and doesn’t (for the most part).
There is bigger heartache too — the pain and madness of the world at large. Mussolini is on the rise in Italy. Hitler is already installed in power in Germany, and Stalin seized his chance long ago in the Soviet Union, murdering his way to the top, a method of career advancement equally perfected by Putin in our times. Storm clouds are gathering over the beautiful, sunny Mediterranean. One can feel the war coming, even here in peaceful, bucolic, lovely Corfu. When push comes to shove something will have to give. What will happen to the Durrells next? Another season or two may be needed to complete their Mediterranean odyssey and adventure.
For the present, though, all is well, or seems so. The trials and tribulations continue, as that is how life is designed, but Louisa and her children (Lawrence, Leslie, Margo and Gerald) and their friends almost always find a way, a solution to their problems.
Louisa has always been vivacious, the centre of attraction in the drama. She anchors the household and the adventure. As stated, she is a dreamer, a born romantic. She is always attractive, always beautiful. The actress Keeley Hawes, equally attractive and beautiful, is absolutely wonderful as Louisa. Lately Keeley seems to be bringing out more humour in Louisa as well — endearing, eccentric humour, like when Louisa takes it upon herself to vet the three young lovers of son Leslie with an aim toward deciding which would be most suitable for him if he decides to marry. Ah, never mind about decide, as life does this for Leslie in the form of an unintended pregnancy with one of them. What will the Durrells and Leslie do? Will they remain honourable, respecting local customs and the wishes of the family of the impregnated girl, or will they resist this and insist otherwise?
Dilemmas, conundrums, problems — these are the things that keep the series going, along with the often jerry-rigged solutions to them. The Durrells, with all their faults and foibles, are endearing. We come to care for all of them. Lawrence, the eldest, may be smug and condescending, fancying himself a bohemian writer not bound by the usual rules that keep most bourgeois people mentally enslaved. But he is humbled in ways that actually reveal a deeply concealed kind heart. Leslie, beyond all possibility of prediction and expectation, at age 19 or 20 suddenly becomes a ladies man. The lasses of the island are smitten with him. Or at least three of them are. Margo remains happy in the sun and fresh air. She is much lighter, fresher, spontaneous than she was in England. She is coming of age now too in Greece and at age 18 has admirers. As time passes she should be able to pick and choose. As for Gerald, the runt of the litter at age 13, he is the budding naturalist, a born zoologist. He will grow up to become perhaps the greatest Durrell of all, or at least the most well known thanks to television nature documentaries and his privately made zoo in Jersey. Also, it was he who wrote the Corfu Trilogy (not fellow family writer Lawrence), on which the film series is based. The Durrell house on Corfu is a menagerie thanks to Gerald, a home for flamingos, frogs, turtles, snakes, goats and even a lazy sloth who hangs out (literally) in the kitchen, barely moving from his perch (a tree trunk moved into the kitchen). Then of course there’s Louisa, always Louisa at the centre of things, trying to hold things together through the laughter, good cheer, strong booze and tears.
There are actually some people who dislike this film series, The Durrells. No, I’m not making this up. Sadly, I have read their reviews — sad for them, that is, not for me. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. Some would rather die of thirst. Not me! I want all the ouzo I can get, and if the Durrells invite me to dinner at their cluttered kitchen table in their ramshackle house, I’m off like a shot. Colour, vibrancy, beauty and spontaneity — that’s what the Durrells represent to me. Also, adventure, independence, self-reliance, imagination and courage. Those who don’t like these things probably never leave home. Not to knock Bournemouth necessarily, but some of them probably still live there.
Happily, a fourth season has been commissioned by ITV, a production company that knows a good thing when they have it. They are also making Victoria, the best period drama since their previous best period drama, Downton Abbey. What is that dusty thing in the distance trying to keep up with ITV? Oh, there it is — it looks so tired. It’s the BBC! But at least the BBC is still producing Call the Midwife, so it retains its important place in the television art of Britain.
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Klantenrecensies
Beste recensies uit andere landen
J. L. Sievert
Romance and dreams
Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 21 juli 2018Stephen Nash
The Durrells series 1 to 3
Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 6 mei 2021Stephanie Johnson
Excellent portrayal of Gerald Durrell's books
Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 23 oktober 2018D M COLLINGS
great series
Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 14 juni 2018Daphne A. Booth Yardley
This series was as good as the previous series
Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 16 september 2018