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There'll always be an England--and Anglophiles shall be forever grateful. A Dance to the Music of Time is a sumptuous, leisurely portrait of a time in Britain's history (from the 1920s to the '60s) that epitomizes the pinnacle of romance. At the center of this Dance is Nicholas Jenkins, the narrator of the tales of intrigue, infidelity, queer friendships, and ruthless ambition that intersect throughout the series. Jenkins is played by the appealing James Purefoy, who, with starring turns in the likes of the film Vanity Fair and the HBO series Rome, clearly has not met a period drama he could not master. Flawed but clear-eyed, Jenkins observes the machinations of the upper crust from a bit of a remove, as if watching a play unfold. And unfold it does. The plot is far too intricate to encapsulate, and in the end, plot isn't the appeal of British drawing-room dramas, anyway. Instead, it's the evocation of a time bound by intricate, unspoken rules--which participants seem to spend as much time and furtive energy trying to break as they do abiding by them. Notable characters include the greasy Widmerpool (played by the BAFTA-winning Simon Russell Beale), who, despite being utterly unremarkable, manages to build quite a career in the British government and military. John Gielgud is riveting as the novelist St. John Clarke, whose books are wildly popular but sniffed at by serious critics, and Miranda Richardson is the devilish Pamela Flitton.
The miniseries bears more than a passing resemblance to the much-beloved Brideshead Revisited, and in fact the cast of characters is so complex that the boxed set includes a "cheat sheet" guide to the most prominent 15 of them. But keeping tabs is less important than simply being swept into the lush period of time and allowing its gorgeous details wash over the viewer. For Anglophiles, the experience of watching A Dance to the Music of Time is truly transcendent. --A.T. Hurley
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