Taking a trip back to a time of posh accents, primitive text
based computers and wiretapping, the old House of Cards first reached British
screens in 1990. Since then it’s gone on to be considered one of the best shows
made in the UK, not to mention actor Ian Richardson’s most memorable
performance. The series is adapted from the book by Michael Dobbs, a former UK
politician who took up writing in 1989. He also worked as a feature writer for
the Boston Globe through the seventies.
12 episodes make up 12 cards, split up into three parts; The
House of Cards, To Play the King and The Final Cut. right from the get-go the
1990 HOC sets itself out as a very compact series, compressing many events into
a shorter viewing. On the one hand, some characters get more development than
others but on the other it keeps things moving along without any slower moments
or diversions getting in the way. In some ways watching the older version felt
a bit thin as it goes along briskly. But when it comes to the performances,
there are several that impress.
Ian Richardson is fantastic as Francis Urquhart; but unlike
his American counterpart, there are some tinges, however small, of a conscience
within him. But these are quickly suppressed as he remains dead-set on the task
at hand. Addressing the audience still characterises the series but all those
little winks to the camera, combined with his catchphrase “You might very well
think that; I couldn't possibly comment” set the British perspective apart. As
things progress, the series starts to include nations outside the UK towards
the end and we learn more about Urquhart’s darker secrets. At a BBC radio interview in 2002, Richardson said: “Without the opportunity of having played Francis Urquhart, I would be the same jobbing actor that I was before”.
Urquhart’s cohort Stamper (played in this version by Colin Jeavons) gets more
screen-time in the second part, making equal use of blackmail and verbal
persuasion rather than violence to get his way. Then there’s Commander Corder
played by Nick Brimble, a towering, imposing figure willing to do anything his
master asks at a moment’s notice. These three performances set out Francis’s
government as an unyielding one, with an air of conspiracy lurking underneath.
While the more adult moments aren’t nearly as explicit as the
newer version, they have a serious level of creepiness to them. Urquhart first
courts young journalist Matty Storin, a woman three times younger than him who
calls him “Daddy” as things go on. This, mixed with the stare Richardson gives
to the camera creates an incredibly uncomfortable mood. Despite being released
over two decades ago, the series still has themes that tie into the modern
political scene; the use of scapegoating on terrorists to cover up the Prime
Minister’s real deeds and the notion of game theory between Francis and his
rival the King (Who stands in for the American version’s Donald Tusk). The
press also plays a role, with leaks and classified tapes lurking in the underbelly
of Urquhart’s government and scrutinising their performances on the national
stage. Strangely enough, the first part of the UK trilogy aired two days before
the 1990 Conservative Party Leadership election, perhaps a nod to author
Michael Dobb’s previous time with the UK political party.
It lacks the deeper character arcs of its modern counterpart
but 1990’s House of Cards is still a worthwhile distraction if you’re looking
to find where Beau Willimon’s Netflix hit takes its inspiration from,
especially with Ian Richardson’s outstanding performance.
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