In 1978 the BBC broadcast She Fell Among Thieves, Tom Sharpe’s television adaptation of the Dornford Yates novel. A review in The Times prompted two letters to the paper, and on 6 April 1978 the newspaper published Sharpe’s own reply to them. Reproduced below, in chronological order, are the review and the subsequent letters.
She fell Among Thieves (BBC 2), reviewed by Joan Bakewell, 2 March 1978
What larks! “Snobbery with violence” is with us again, proving that the British film industry is alive and well and making television films for less than £200,000 a throw. So far we have had Rogue Male, by Raphael out of Household, and The Three Hostages, by Prebble out of Buchan, each produced by the Mark Shivas/Clive Donner collaboration. In their latest, by Tom Sharpe out of Dornford Yates, their strengths are most delightfully in evidence, but the weakness of the genre itself begins to show.
The recipe for the novels was straightforward enough: A racy adventure involving any or all the elements of espionage, patriotism, hypnotism, heiresses, legacies, political figures at risk, double-crossing foreigners and England’s green and pleasant land. Set such a story against a background of 1920s affluence, leathered clubland, country houses, dogs, guns, women in pure silk blouses and heroes who attended public school together, and, in its own terms, the thing is plausible enough to keep excitement on the move.
In the films the emphasis has shifted. The plots are still there sure enough, but mounted less in their own right than as the excuse for an extravagance of style and manner that itself becomes the main source of enjoyment. She Fell Among Thieves is the most extravagant to date. Its villains, Acorn and Candle, minions of the wicked Vanity Fair, hatch a deadly plot to force marriage on the beautiful and drugged heiress, Jenny. To the rescue come two Englishmen, Chandos and Mansel, they of the clean limbs, good tweeds and blue Rolls-Royce. Much fun is had at the datedness of the talk, its assumptions and snobberies: “Lobb shoes from a drowned man”; “A long time since anyone said ‘An ‘otel’”. Madam’s behaviour may be questionable but her grammar is perfect. Servants are loyal, Frenchman debauched, the Chateau d’Yquem laced with aconite.
An impeccable cast, led by Eileen Atkins in high Bette Davis style, give it their full seriousness and therefore its own integrity. Above all, the sets and her costumes, richly Gothic and fanciful, gorge the eye on elaborate hocum. And there the crack appears. For the background cannot claim the foreground, the tail wag the dog. In the end it is the plot that must gather speed and tension, not the jokey asides or funny frocks. And we of the post-Bond era simply cannot swallow the inept craftsmanship of Yates’s story. In the end the plot must serve, not be subservient. And how can you grit your teeth when you have got your tongue so thoroughly in your cheek?
‘Assessing Dornford Yates’, from Mr John Goldsmith, 4 March 1978
Sir, May I put in a word of defence for Dornford Yates with reference to Joan Bakewell’s excellent review (March 2) of the BBC’s dramatization of She Fell Among Thieves. Miss Bakewell quite rightly comments that the film was all about lavish sets, glistening Rolls-Royces and gorgeous costumes and not about plot. “We of the post Bond era simply cannot swallow the inept craftsmanship of Yates’s story”, she says.
But it wasn’t Yates’s story. In all the important mechanics of the plot—and I agree they are important—the script bore only the faintest resemblance to the original. To cite but one example; in the first two or three minutes of the film version the dark secret of the villainess is revealed, the gaff is blown. In Yates’s story, the heroes (and the reader) have to unearth the truth for themselves thus giving some credibility to their actions.
One can criticize Dornford Yates for his dreadful snobbery, his weird pedantry and his dotty prejudices but in the matter of plots he was a master—logical, inventive and full of surprises. How else could he still command a readership today? That he does so is borne out by the fact that the second hand value of his books has risen from sixpence to £2.50 in the past five years and that copies are now extremely difficult to obtain.
If the BBC had stuck more closely to the original, She Fell Among Thieves would have been not only comprehensible but exciting too in the tradition of the thundering good yarn.
Yours faithfully,
JOHN GOLDSMITH,
17A Hampstead Lane,
Highgate, N6.
March 2.
‘Assessing Dornford Yates’, from Mr Christopher Bond, 8 March 1978
Sir, May I second Mr Goldsmith’s spirited defence of Dornford Yates and the original She Fell Among Thieves (March 4). As he rightly says the BBC version wasn’t Yates’s story. I believe Dornford Yates resolutely refused all offers of film rights during his lifetime, and one can understand why.
It was Bernard Shaw who said “I am quite familiar with the fact that every fool who is connected with a theatre, from the call boy to the manager, thinks he knows better than an author how to make a play popular and successful.”
Television is a technical marvel which can bring the theatre into our homes, but the human beings who run it haven’t changed.
Yours faithfully,
CHRISTOPHER BOND,
Savage Club,
9 Fitzmaurice Place,
Berkeley Square, W1
March 5
‘Assessing Dornford Yates’, from Mr Tom Sharpe, 6 April 1978
Sir, As the writer responsible for adapting She Fell Among Thieves for television I fear I must agree with Mr Goldsmith’s defence of Dornford Yates (March 4) while taking issue with him on matters of fact and public taste. Mr Goldsmith would have been better advised to read the original novel again before arguing that in it Yates’ heroes have to unearth the truth for themselves. On the contrary in the first chapter Mansel explains who Vanity Fair is, where she lives and the evil of which she is capable. In the film Mansel and Chandos use their wits to find her.
For the rest I tried to keep to the spirit of Dornford Yates while avoiding his penchant for maudlin sentimentality when it came to heroines. In the book Jenny is physically 19 but has been drugged to kill her memory and believes she is a ten year old and a backward one at that. What modern audience would accept a scene in which a fully grown woman asks a man in his forties who his servant is only to be told by Mansel that Bell is “our nurse”? It was to avoid the improbable while maintaining the pace and the excellently melodramatic characters Yates provided that I altered the plot. It was also to keep to his public ethic that I deleted a scene in which Jenny is first seen stark naked.
Mr Bond’s letter is best refuted by Dornford Yates himself. He was very anxious to see his books filmed (see Page 140 of B-Berry & I Look Back) and Bernard Shaw was his bete noire (page 227). As for the Savage Club, let Mr Bond try page 76 of As Berry & I Were Saying.
Yours faithfully,
TOM SHARPE,
33 Highfield Avenue,
Cambridge.
March 10.
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Links to original scans: review, letter 1, letter 2, letter 3