I was enjoying this until Millais came up with 'Bubbles'. :eek:
This was painted long after the period shown in the programme (the 1850's) in 1885-6. The child model was his grandson, and he painted this for the Pears Soap company for purely commercial reasons, his Pre Raphaelite ideals having long gone to the wall long before.
I know it's not meant to be historically accurate, but the omission of Ford Madox Brown is annoying as he played as great a part in the evolution of the PRB as any of the others. Wasn't he interesting enough, or didn't he have the habit of picking up barmaids/prostitutes/hat shop workers that the others did in order to make his story more titillating? *ahem*
This was painted long after the period shown in the programme (the 1850's) in 1885-6. The child model was his grandson, and he painted this for the Pears Soap company for purely commercial reasons, his Pre Raphaelite ideals having long gone to the wall long before.
Not so.
It was originally painted and shown as a straight forward vanitas still life called "A Child's World" and sold just as a painting which happened to be bought by the owner of the London Illustrated News.
It was then reproduced in the illustrated newspaper where it was seen by the owner of the Pears soap company who thought it would be a great advertising image.
The owner of Pears therefore bought the original painting from the owner of the Illustrated News and said to Millais that he wanted to use it as an advert after adding in a bar of Pears soap into the foreground of the reproduced image (this soap is not present in the original work).
Millais said he wasn't too happy with this, but it was then pointed out that he had sold the painting on so legally he had no say in what it's current owner did to the image.
It was also at this point that the new owner (Thomas J Barrat, manager of Pears and known as "The Father of modern advertising") changed the paintings name from "A Child's World" to "Bubbles". The new name stuck.
As a final note this proved very unfortunate for William James, the grandson of Millais. He was indeed the model for the painting and when this news got out he was forever nicknamed "Bubbles" even when he rose to rank of Admiral in the British Navy
PS - When Unilever bought out Pears they acquired ownership of the original painting.
As a final note this proved very unfortunate for William James, the grandson of Millais. He was indeed the model for the painting and when this news got out he was forever nicknamed "Bubbles" even when he rose to rank of Admiral in the British Navy
I also now learn that Admiral Sir William Milbourne James GCB (22 December 1881 - 17 August 1973) also served in Naval Intelligence in the first world war and was appointed as Chief of Naval intelligence in the second World War.
I can forgive the historical inacurracies as I am enjoying the series. It has made me do a bit of research anyway on the PRB, so it is educational in a roundabout way. I am loving the in depth look at some of the paintings on the BBC4 documentary afterwards.
I can forgive the historical inacurracies as I am enjoying the series. It has made me do a bit of research anyway on the PRB, so it is educational in a roundabout way. I am loving the in depth look at some of the paintings on the BBC4 documentary afterwards.
That's what I think too, even if there were a few bits this week that made me go:eek:
Being human repaets start tonight too, for Aiden fans.;)
"Call me an easily impressed nincompoop, but any drama serial that opens with a caption which effectively states "the following is a load of bollocks" instantly gets my attention. So it is with Desperate Romantics (Tue, 9pm, BBC2), which absolves itself of any claim to historical accuracy via its title card. "The pre-Raphaelite brotherhood were inspired by the real world, yet took imaginative licence," it says. "This story, based on their lives and loves, follows in that inventive spirit." It's the equivalent of "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away ... ", or perhaps more accurately, "Sod off, pedants."
I don't know much about art, but I know what I like, and at first I was inclined to dislike this. A frothy period romp in which a bunch of over-sexed straggle-haired artists rut their way round Olde London Towne like some skinny-jeaned Hoxton indie band on the up: no thanks. The cast are young and attractive, the lead character an arrogant cock of galactic proportions, and it features walk-on parts for historical figures that even an ill-educated boob like me can recognise ("Guys, guys! Charles Dickens just walked in"), all of which should leave it feeling like a poor man's Blackadder minus the gags.
So imagine my irritation on discovering I rather enjoyed it. For one thing, it's acutely aware of precisely how stupid it's being, and it gleefully exploits that to the full - which, when you think about it, is actually very clever. Think of the Comic Strip's Hollywood rewrite parodies Strike! and GLC: it borders on those.
This is one of the most knowing programmes I've seen in ages; so knowing it virtually sits on the sofa beside you, watching itself and taking the piss. Under normal circumstances that would be irritating. Here it's just playful. "Playfulness" is an incredibly hard thing to capture on screen in a scripted drama, but here everyone seems to have worked together with just the right lightness of touch. Peter Bowker's script, the direction, the performances, the music ... there's an impressive consistency of tone throughout. The theme tune just about sums it up: a cheerily preposterous sort of glam-rock-romantic-classical-fusion stomp.
I have absolutely no idea what the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood were like in real life, but it's probably safe to say they weren't like this: a trio of brawling, shagging, foppish cartoons strutting around the city dressed like rejected character designs for Doctor Who. They spend very little time intensely discussing their art, and very much time gawping at knockers. At times it feels like a period costume spin-off of The Inbetweeners (sometimes precisely so, given the nerdy narration device that bookends each episode).
Yet this doesn't matter for two reasons: 1) It's got enough charm to get away with it, and 2) A series in which the pre-Raphaelites intensely discussed their art would've been po-faced and terrible. Far better to portray them as flawed, foolish, full-of-it swaggerers possessing a combination of genuine talent and daft pretension. It may be a caricature, but it's probably closer to the truth than the traditional, boring route, which is to depict any artist as an unbelievably serious tormented genius who spends 50% of his screen time speaking in brooding aphorisms, 10% painting a naked pair of tits, and the remaining 40% smashing up his studio in an oblique artistic funk - and who we're supposed to respect and admire regardless because, hey, he's a brilliant artist, yeah? Pfff.
All of the above dramatised-artist tropes - the pretentious-speak, the canvas-smashing, the tit-painting - do crop up in Desperate Romantics but crucially they're suffused with oafish humour. These pre-Raphaelites are arses, not smartarses (sometimes the programme doesn't seem to even like them or their paintings very much, which is refreshing in itself).
An enjoyable Portrait Of The Artist As A Young ****, then?
I suspect this series has surprised a lot of people by being as good as it is, with so many shocking and laugh out loud moments. One for an award maybe? Will be good to have on any acting CV!
Carry on up the Easel. Down there with Carry on up the Codpiece (The "Tudors")
Theres nothing like being treated like an ignorant moron to put me in a good mood.
Not knowing anything about these artists I have no idea whether I'm watching fact or fiction but at the moment, I don't really care! I'm thoroughly enjoying a lovable romp of a series which, for most of the time, has it's tongue placed firmly in it's cheek The music also perfectly matches the proceedings and is almost like a character in it's own right.
When the series ends I may just delve into the 'truth' of the proceedings but for now I don't want my enjoyment spoiled by thinking 'that's not right, that didn't happen there' etc. It must be very frustrating for those of you who DO know the factual history :eek:
Thanks TiffanyThorne for the Charlie Brooker, Guardian review It pretty much summed up my feelings too about this lovable romp
Now, alan29, I thoroughly agree about The Tudors. Having studied this period extensively it drives me nuts when I notice things that are glaringly wrong! Which lets face it, happens about 10 times per episode at least I drive people mad saying 'that's not right!' etc. I still watch it though (:o) but try just to see it as a programme in it's own right and not an historical documentary. Works for me
"Call me an easily impressed nincompoop, but any drama serial that opens with a caption which effectively states "the following is a load of bollocks" instantly gets my attention. So it is with Desperate Romantics (Tue, 9pm, BBC2), which absolves itself of any claim to historical accuracy via its title card. "The pre-Raphaelite brotherhood were inspired by the real world, yet took imaginative licence," it says. "This story, based on their lives and loves, follows in that inventive spirit." It's the equivalent of "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away ... ", or perhaps more accurately, "Sod off, pedants."
I don't know much about art, but I know what I like, and at first I was inclined to dislike this. A frothy period romp in which a bunch of over-sexed straggle-haired artists rut their way round Olde London Towne like some skinny-jeaned Hoxton indie band on the up: no thanks. The cast are young and attractive, the lead character an arrogant cock of galactic proportions, and it features walk-on parts for historical figures that even an ill-educated boob like me can recognise ("Guys, guys! Charles Dickens just walked in"), all of which should leave it feeling like a poor man's Blackadder minus the gags.
So imagine my irritation on discovering I rather enjoyed it. For one thing, it's acutely aware of precisely how stupid it's being, and it gleefully exploits that to the full - which, when you think about it, is actually very clever. Think of the Comic Strip's Hollywood rewrite parodies Strike! and GLC: it borders on those.
This is one of the most knowing programmes I've seen in ages; so knowing it virtually sits on the sofa beside you, watching itself and taking the piss. Under normal circumstances that would be irritating. Here it's just playful. "Playfulness" is an incredibly hard thing to capture on screen in a scripted drama, but here everyone seems to have worked together with just the right lightness of touch. Peter Bowker's script, the direction, the performances, the music ... there's an impressive consistency of tone throughout. The theme tune just about sums it up: a cheerily preposterous sort of glam-rock-romantic-classical-fusion stomp.
I have absolutely no idea what the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood were like in real life, but it's probably safe to say they weren't like this: a trio of brawling, shagging, foppish cartoons strutting around the city dressed like rejected character designs for Doctor Who. They spend very little time intensely discussing their art, and very much time gawping at knockers. At times it feels like a period costume spin-off of The Inbetweeners (sometimes precisely so, given the nerdy narration device that bookends each episode).
Yet this doesn't matter for two reasons: 1) It's got enough charm to get away with it, and 2) A series in which the pre-Raphaelites intensely discussed their art would've been po-faced and terrible. Far better to portray them as flawed, foolish, full-of-it swaggerers possessing a combination of genuine talent and daft pretension. It may be a caricature, but it's probably closer to the truth than the traditional, boring route, which is to depict any artist as an unbelievably serious tormented genius who spends 50% of his screen time speaking in brooding aphorisms, 10% painting a naked pair of tits, and the remaining 40% smashing up his studio in an oblique artistic funk - and who we're supposed to respect and admire regardless because, hey, he's a brilliant artist, yeah? Pfff.
All of the above dramatised-artist tropes - the pretentious-speak, the canvas-smashing, the tit-painting - do crop up in Desperate Romantics but crucially they're suffused with oafish humour. These pre-Raphaelites are arses, not smartarses (sometimes the programme doesn't seem to even like them or their paintings very much, which is refreshing in itself).
An enjoyable Portrait Of The Artist As A Young ****, then?
Yup. That just about sums it up."
Corrr!!! I wish I had your way with words, but, yea, what she said.
I love this series and tonights was another corker. My sister, who is a pre-Raphaelite nut would absolutely hate it, she just wouldn't see the joke.
How good was the music tonight, sorry if it's been addressed before, but I assume that was meant to be an orchestral version of "The Beautiful Ones" (rather than a blatant rip off that is)
My sister, who is a pre-Raphaelite nut would absolutely hate it, she just wouldn't see the joke.
My wife has a fine arts degree and whilst she dislikes the painting style of the pre-Raphaelites immensely (which is a shame because I quite like it and Ophelia is one of my favourite paintings) she is aware of their history and drip feeds me little half-remembered pieces of information here and there (like Rossetti's strangely absent sister).
Whilst the majority of this series is of course enjoyable tosh and hokum of the highest order, there are many grains of truth in it. For example Dickens did review (and dislike) their early work, Effie did divorce because she was "untouched", Hunt did tour the Holy land and had a failed engagement to his model, William Morris did decorate churches with Rosseti and in many cases they were all sleeping with each other's mistresses at every opportunity
(To be fair this final bit isn't exclusive to the Pre-Rapaelites and was quite common with Artists in general)
So amongst all the topless romps they have actually hidden some education (although the breasts may distract you from it)
Don't get me wrong, I think their paintings are fabulous, I've seen some in The Tate, it's just that I prefer landscapes, and I'm more of a French Impressionist type of gal myself.
I think it's turned out to be a fantastic series - the central performances are excllent.
I loved in last night's episode when Rosetti and Lizzie woke up and Ruskin was sitting on the end of the bed !
It's interesting that up until about 20 yrs ago (and I remember, as I was doing History of Art A-level at the time) that many (if not most) of the PRB paintings were in the cellar at the Tate as they'd been totally out of fashion, and considered to have no merit, for years. I can't remember what, if anything specifically, brought them back into the limelight, but I remember seeing a documentary showing Tate staff sorting through them and 're-discovering' them - and they've been immensely popular again ever since.
Up until the 1960s their art was so unfashionable it could scarcely be given away. Andrew Lloyd Webber narrowly missed buying Leighton's Flaming June in the 1960s because his grandmother wouldn't lend him the £50 he needed. Holman Hunt's Lady of Shalot sold for 9,500 guineas in 1959, less than the 10,500 guineas Millais' Christ In The House Of His Parents had fetched in 1921. Millais' portrait of Ruskin (which sparked off his attachment to Effie) fetched 25,000 guineas in 1965. It was 1984 before the Tate mounted a Pre-Raphaelite show.
Sorry to be crude, but the greatest art on show in the fifth episode was Rebecca Davies' (portrayed the character of Fanny) chest. A truly beautiful woman in this world of stick insects.
The scene right at the end in the wedding when Dante was making his speech I found so uplifting and happy. Of course we all know Rosetti is a rogue and I felt for Lizzy.
Comments
Liked last nights episode, but didn't seem as fluffy as the episode. Poor Annie and Maniac.
This was painted long after the period shown in the programme (the 1850's) in 1885-6. The child model was his grandson, and he painted this for the Pears Soap company for purely commercial reasons, his Pre Raphaelite ideals having long gone to the wall long before.
I know it's not meant to be historically accurate, but the omission of Ford Madox Brown is annoying as he played as great a part in the evolution of the PRB as any of the others. Wasn't he interesting enough, or didn't he have the habit of picking up barmaids/prostitutes/hat shop workers that the others did in order to make his story more titillating? *ahem*
It was originally painted and shown as a straight forward vanitas still life called "A Child's World" and sold just as a painting which happened to be bought by the owner of the London Illustrated News.
It was then reproduced in the illustrated newspaper where it was seen by the owner of the Pears soap company who thought it would be a great advertising image.
The owner of Pears therefore bought the original painting from the owner of the Illustrated News and said to Millais that he wanted to use it as an advert after adding in a bar of Pears soap into the foreground of the reproduced image (this soap is not present in the original work).
Millais said he wasn't too happy with this, but it was then pointed out that he had sold the painting on so legally he had no say in what it's current owner did to the image.
It was also at this point that the new owner (Thomas J Barrat, manager of Pears and known as "The Father of modern advertising") changed the paintings name from "A Child's World" to "Bubbles". The new name stuck.
As a final note this proved very unfortunate for William James, the grandson of Millais. He was indeed the model for the painting and when this news got out he was forever nicknamed "Bubbles" even when he rose to rank of Admiral in the British Navy
PS - When Unilever bought out Pears they acquired ownership of the original painting.
My husband hated the scene with Bubbles so much he threw some knitting wool at the screen. :mad:
I hope next week's episode is more tightly written. I felt really let down by last night's.
He's based on Stephens, as well as a few others. Basically he's a composite character made up of everyone who wasn't Hunt, Rossetti or Millais.
And he was still known as Bubbles
And Annie as the Scapegoat - very bizarre!
Being human repaets start tonight too, for Aiden fans.;)
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2009/aug/15/charlie-brooker-screen-burn-desperate-romantics
"Call me an easily impressed nincompoop, but any drama serial that opens with a caption which effectively states "the following is a load of bollocks" instantly gets my attention. So it is with Desperate Romantics (Tue, 9pm, BBC2), which absolves itself of any claim to historical accuracy via its title card. "The pre-Raphaelite brotherhood were inspired by the real world, yet took imaginative licence," it says. "This story, based on their lives and loves, follows in that inventive spirit." It's the equivalent of "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away ... ", or perhaps more accurately, "Sod off, pedants."
I don't know much about art, but I know what I like, and at first I was inclined to dislike this. A frothy period romp in which a bunch of over-sexed straggle-haired artists rut their way round Olde London Towne like some skinny-jeaned Hoxton indie band on the up: no thanks. The cast are young and attractive, the lead character an arrogant cock of galactic proportions, and it features walk-on parts for historical figures that even an ill-educated boob like me can recognise ("Guys, guys! Charles Dickens just walked in"), all of which should leave it feeling like a poor man's Blackadder minus the gags.
So imagine my irritation on discovering I rather enjoyed it. For one thing, it's acutely aware of precisely how stupid it's being, and it gleefully exploits that to the full - which, when you think about it, is actually very clever. Think of the Comic Strip's Hollywood rewrite parodies Strike! and GLC: it borders on those.
This is one of the most knowing programmes I've seen in ages; so knowing it virtually sits on the sofa beside you, watching itself and taking the piss. Under normal circumstances that would be irritating. Here it's just playful. "Playfulness" is an incredibly hard thing to capture on screen in a scripted drama, but here everyone seems to have worked together with just the right lightness of touch. Peter Bowker's script, the direction, the performances, the music ... there's an impressive consistency of tone throughout. The theme tune just about sums it up: a cheerily preposterous sort of glam-rock-romantic-classical-fusion stomp.
I have absolutely no idea what the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood were like in real life, but it's probably safe to say they weren't like this: a trio of brawling, shagging, foppish cartoons strutting around the city dressed like rejected character designs for Doctor Who. They spend very little time intensely discussing their art, and very much time gawping at knockers. At times it feels like a period costume spin-off of The Inbetweeners (sometimes precisely so, given the nerdy narration device that bookends each episode).
Yet this doesn't matter for two reasons: 1) It's got enough charm to get away with it, and 2) A series in which the pre-Raphaelites intensely discussed their art would've been po-faced and terrible. Far better to portray them as flawed, foolish, full-of-it swaggerers possessing a combination of genuine talent and daft pretension. It may be a caricature, but it's probably closer to the truth than the traditional, boring route, which is to depict any artist as an unbelievably serious tormented genius who spends 50% of his screen time speaking in brooding aphorisms, 10% painting a naked pair of tits, and the remaining 40% smashing up his studio in an oblique artistic funk - and who we're supposed to respect and admire regardless because, hey, he's a brilliant artist, yeah? Pfff.
All of the above dramatised-artist tropes - the pretentious-speak, the canvas-smashing, the tit-painting - do crop up in Desperate Romantics but crucially they're suffused with oafish humour. These pre-Raphaelites are arses, not smartarses (sometimes the programme doesn't seem to even like them or their paintings very much, which is refreshing in itself).
An enjoyable Portrait Of The Artist As A Young ****, then?
Yup. That just about sums it up."
Theres nothing like being treated like an ignorant moron to put me in a good mood.
When the series ends I may just delve into the 'truth' of the proceedings but for now I don't want my enjoyment spoiled by thinking 'that's not right, that didn't happen there' etc. It must be very frustrating for those of you who DO know the factual history :eek:
Thanks TiffanyThorne for the Charlie Brooker, Guardian review
Now, alan29, I thoroughly agree about The Tudors. Having studied this period extensively it drives me nuts when I notice things that are glaringly wrong! Which lets face it, happens about 10 times per episode at least
Corrr!!! I wish I had your way with words, but, yea, what she said.
I love this series and tonights was another corker. My sister, who is a pre-Raphaelite nut would absolutely hate it, she just wouldn't see the joke.
Whilst the majority of this series is of course enjoyable tosh and hokum of the highest order, there are many grains of truth in it. For example Dickens did review (and dislike) their early work, Effie did divorce because she was "untouched", Hunt did tour the Holy land and had a failed engagement to his model, William Morris did decorate churches with Rosseti and in many cases they were all sleeping with each other's mistresses at every opportunity
(To be fair this final bit isn't exclusive to the Pre-Rapaelites and was quite common with Artists in general)
So amongst all the topless romps they have actually hidden some education (although the breasts may distract you from it)
My problem is the education is detracting from the breasts:D
My sister's got that one hanging on her wall.
Don't get me wrong, I think their paintings are fabulous, I've seen some in The Tate, it's just that I prefer landscapes, and I'm more of a French Impressionist type of gal myself.
I loved in last night's episode when Rosetti and Lizzie woke up and Ruskin was sitting on the end of the bed !
It's interesting that up until about 20 yrs ago (and I remember, as I was doing History of Art A-level at the time) that many (if not most) of the PRB paintings were in the cellar at the Tate as they'd been totally out of fashion, and considered to have no merit, for years. I can't remember what, if anything specifically, brought them back into the limelight, but I remember seeing a documentary showing Tate staff sorting through them and 're-discovering' them - and they've been immensely popular again ever since.
Dante 'I thank from the depths of my scrotum!' (or something to that effect.)
Hillarious!
Does anyone know if we will get a second series? I can not see it going on too long-- but certainly one more could work.
The scene right at the end in the wedding when Dante was making his speech I found so uplifting and happy. Of course we all know Rosetti is a rogue and I felt for Lizzy.