The miniseries takes off like a shot, and aside from some early narration, spends little time explaining itself. Genre fans will enjoy picking up on the particulars of the dialect, as repetition leads you to weeding out the important names and concepts behind Strange & Norrell. The larger mythology of the show is a bit too beholden to this delivery method, with frequent prophecies and ill omens ensuring we know of the Great Magical Conflict to come. The portents are too similarly one-note to feel worthy of the constant refrain just yet, especially since the world being imperilled is one we’re only just getting to know.
Compared to the more sensual and macabre pleasures of Victorian fantasy Penny Dreadful, the often bloodless and sexless nature of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell can make the action seem stifling whenever it dares to slow down. But the sense of propriety that comes with the setting makes the clashes between manners and mysticism a big part of the fun. Strange and Norrell occasionally loses some of its awe-factor by having magic be an accepted part of the fiction, but it’s often at its most entertaining when the characters themselves are delighting in the bizarre circumstances they find themselves in.
The juxtaposed rigidity and adventurousness of the title characters is best handled by director Toby Haynes, who directs all seven hours of Strange & Norrell, and does a spectacular job with the first two. Haynes can use the curvature of a hill as a canvas for Brontean farmland beauty, and moments later, enlist that same feature as part of a cheeky visual gag. The first two episodes include a few special effects showcases that really impress, not just for the fidelity of the digital imagery, but for how it’s enhanced by Haynes’ use of the camera. Enough money can summon you all the CGI in the world, but Haynes uses lighting and set design to keep your eye trained on the whole of the otherworldly creations, instead of looking for the blemishes.
Even when doing stage work between the showstoppers, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell employs some deft visual trickery. A high society party packed like a can of sardines and a disorienting pass through library corridors gives even mundane locations a hint of whimsy. The second episode has a bit more difficulty spicing up the proceedings when trying to do Gothic horror with one foot still in reality, but when the time comes to get totally bizarro, there are some stark and gorgeous vistas for your eyes to dine out on.
In both tone and sensibility, the Strange half of the Strange & Norrell combination is the more enticing of the pair, though both Marsan and Carvel are a good fit here. There’s a potential-filled supporting cast that may get lost in the tarot card shuffle of the grander plot, which itself has plenty of intrigue, but not enough to care much for at this initial stage. Strange’s soon-to-be wife Arabella (Charlotte Riley) and Norrell’s manservant Childermass (Enzo Cilenti) bring with them lots of sarcasm and smoldering looks, respectively, and could give the story characters worth slowing down for. But, as far as opening acts go, the first two episodes of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell make a convincing argument for sticking with the miniseries to see if it reveals itself as a true summer sleeper.
