“How could you let him cheat and make him believe it was okay? Sophie asks, perturbed.
His mother says that he used to cheat at Monopoly as a child and always talked his way out of it. At her wit’s end one evening, she asks their children’s young Russian nanny: He’s a good man! Isn’t he? Not a rapist, surely? The latter hesitates, before responding with, “He’s a man.” Even an insignificant meeting with her in-laws reveals much about James. With every passing frame, Sophie begins to question everything, even their heady days of youth.
It paints the picture of a man’s journey from a rowdy collegiate golden boy to a seemingly straight-talking, upright Member of Parliament. The show’s fine dialogue points the viewer in the right moral direction. As to the evidence (ripped clothes, picture of a bitten/bruised breast), Regan points to a pattern of aggressive yet consensual liaisons undertaken between them over the course of their five-month affair. The defence counsel badgers her repeatedly about the specific use of “no” or “stop”. He failed to adhere to her exclamation of “not here” and other non-verbal clues. In the elevator, Olivia claims the initial physical contact began consensually, but got out of hand when James became rough. Olivia’s testimony is used against her - that she was in love with James, and that she “finds his arrogance terribly attractive” (words she uttered minutes before the alleged assault). It was not rape, but the consequence of an affair gone wrong. Angela Regan (Simon), of the defence, quite predictably, goes down the tried-and-tested road of victim-blaming. Olivia recounts them in detail, as the viewer is presented with short montages comprising her side of the story. Prosecution counsel, Kate Woodcraft (Dockery), questions her about the events of that day in the elevator. James’ flashbacks are shown intermittently before the focus shifts to Olivia Lytton (Scott), the complainant. A ‘he said, she said’ situation arises as the court case gets underway.
The beginning employs the technique of an unreliable narrator (through its frames) as it tells each version of the story in snatches…in order to blur the truth and obfuscate the viewer. Only so much is revealed in the opening episodes, keeping your anticipation high for the subsequent ones to follow. The miniseries’ most memorable aspects are its pacing and acting. Kelley, Sarah Vaughan (novel)Ĭast – Sienna Miller, Michelle Dockery, Rupert Friend, Naomi Scott, Josette Simon, Geoffrey Streatfeild Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? But that’s only the start of a complex web of deceit, with an allegation of rape at the eye of the storm.Ĭreators - Melissa James Gibson, David E. He is advised to lay low, until the smoke clears. Tom Southern (Britain’s Prime Minister) and James’ close friendship dates back to their raucous Oxford days. She is barely allowed to process the information, let alone his contrite behaviour, as the PM’s foul-mouthed Communications Director barges in on the couple’s exchange. James’ affair with a young parliamentary researcher in his office becomes tabloid fodder even as he scrambles to break the news to Sophie (Miller), his wife. But that’s the thing about an impossibly clean image…there is only so far it can carry you before the bubble bursts. At home, he’s a loyal husband and dedicated father. On the outside, he comes across as charming, a people’s politician willing to go the extra mile for his constituents. James Whitehouse (Friend), an English MP with close ties to the Prime Minister, is that kind of man. A man with wealth, pedigree and considerable influence has the wherewithal to hide it better. Veneer, sophistication and polish may all be present at that said level, but scratch the surface and you find that patriarchy is rampant across all stages of the socioeconomic structure.
Based on Sarah Vaughan’s renowned novel of the same name, Anatomy of a Scandal exposes the powerful world it is set in, that being the top echelons of the British parliament, and male politicians within it.