His Dark Materials: Lyra's Jordan

I have been awaiting this show for a very long time, since reading the books for the first time when I was thirteen, watching the disaster of a movie when I was twenty three, and hearing news of the BBC adaptation just a couple of years ago.

This story has been in my life for the greater part of it, from the way it changed my perception of how fantasy could be written when I was a teenager, to writing my thesis on its use of theology and religious dogma when I was at university.

And though I don't think anything could quite compare to the reading experience of the book and the way it gradually unspools its myriad of ideas and the scope of its world-building, I'm looking forward to a faithful and imaginative adaptation that hits all the major story beats of Pullman's original work, while giving itself some room to delve into the spaces that were left for further development or exploration.

I haven't done episode-by-episode reviews for a long time, but I'm going to make the effort for His Dark Materials. Just be aware that this will be full of SPOILERS, not just for the show but all three of the books, as I'm curious as to how this season will set-up or foreshadow the characters and events to come.

As with the 2007 film, the show cannot help but start dishing out exposition straight away, with text that informs us right off the bat as to the nature and purpose of daemons. It's a shame really, as there is absolutely nothing like reading the book for the first time with no foreknowledge of what daemons are or how they operate.

It's probably been one of the greatest pleasures of my reading life; getting hit with the line: "Lyra and her daemon moved through the darkening hall," without a shred of context, and then being left to puzzle it all out as the story went on. And yet, I can see why this would be a nightmare to adapt for the screen: a book comes with the implicit promise that things will be explained in due course, whereas a show that opens with people being followed around by talking animals would look bizarre.

But even with the explanatory text, the show still cannot capture the true depth of the bond between individual and daemon, for so much of it is demonstrated through shared thoughts and deeply private conversations. As with the film, it'll be a struggle to make Pan (who is after all, just CGI) feel like an essential part of Lyra's character, as well as the plot.

The only way I can visualize the introduction of this person/daemon bond without the use of raw exposition would be to open on a simple scene between Lyra and Pantalaimon, which starts with her trying to go somewhere and Pan refusing, illustrating that they can't physically stray from each other, and then adding more and more details: that he can talk, that he can shapeshift, that he knows exactly what she's thinking and feeling, before she finally convinces him to join her, at which point she steps into a bustling area where it becomes clear EVERYONE has the type of animal companion she does.

It would take a long time to set up, but hey, that's what the relative lack of time restrictions in television shows are for, right?

Honestly though, I don't envy the screenwriter, for there are a ton of crucial concepts to drop in this first episode: not only daemons, but the existence of Dust, of Gobblers, of altheiometers, of the Magisterium and its goals - even the changes in Biblical texts to include the presence of daemons.

So I have to cut them some slack for trying to get as much of this world-building into the script as possible, even if it feels a little clumsy at times: Lyra getting a lesson on theology, discussing with Roger what their daemons will settle as, and having Asriel tell her to pay attention to any mention of Dust. And we didn't even touch on the bears or witches!

Again, the retiring room in the second chapter of Northern Lights makes you shake your head at Pullman's audacity in throwing enigmatic comment after enigmatic comment at the reader, void of any context and without the slightest interest in providing immediate explanation, providing only reactions from the listening scholars - from the uncomfortable silence following a query about a "severed child" to Lyra's bewilderment that Iofur Raknison, a panserbjorne, would do anything to have a daemon.

The adaptation has to cut most of this, focusing instead on the existence of Dust, the city behind the Northern Lights, and the head of Stanislaus Grumman. Unfortunately, the show also feels the need to introduce the terms destiny and prophecy in relation to Lyra, which was undoubtedly the weakest part of Pullman's story, and which could probably be removed without any great harm done to the narrative.

(I always felt it strange that a story so concerned with free will and self-determination would even bother to include things like a prophecy about Lyra, or have the Master introduce a conceit as ultimately pointless as Lyra having to walk a set path without knowing she's doing it. The prophecy's only use is in giving the Magisterium a reason to become obsessed with Lyra, and it is admittedly a cool scene when Mrs Coulter finds out Lyra's "true name" from one of the witches, so we'll see how this pans out).

Perhaps the one big addition to the show is the ceremony among the gyptians concerning the "settling" of Tony Costa's daemon into a hawk, and the subsequent celebrations surrounding it. This was certainly not in the book, nor is there any mention of a rite-of-passage party when a daemon settles - as I recall it just happens, often without the full realization of the person until a few weeks later.

In this case, I understand the scene's presence: the movement from childhood to adolescence, as symbolized by a person's daemon no longer changing shape, is the absolute crux of the trilogy, tried in closely to Pullman's take on the Garden of Eden story, the purpose of Dust, and (in the next book) the motivation of the Spectres.

It also helps bring focus to the gyptians, their existence on the fringes of society, how the Gobblers are getting away with stealing their children, and how they band together as a united community. Ma Costa in particular is great: you can feel her grief over the disappearance of her child, and there was a beautiful contrast at the end between her sitting on the deck of her canal boat while Mrs Coulter flies above in the zeppelin.

Both mothers, both heading towards London, and yet profoundly different in every other way that matters, not least because Mrs Coulter is the culprit behind Ma Costa's pain and worry.

The actual kidnapping of Billy Costa (and presumably, Roger) is quite different from the book, in which Mrs Coulter would sweetly and lovingly lure the children away in what was written almost as a seduction. Here the children are literally grabbed off the street. And it would appear that someone with a fox daemon is involved, given that animal's presence when each boy goes missing, which is certainly an original component to the show.

***

Which brings me to Mrs Coulter. By this point in the book, we've already been witness to a beautiful woman with a monkey daemon coax children off the street, ply them with goodies, and convince them to travel north on a sea voyage. When Lyra meets her at the banquet hall of Jordan College, it's an "oh shit!" moment for the reader, as we are more aware of the danger she poses than Lyra herself.

Yet the show wants to keep us in suspense over her true intentions and motivations, which - c'mon. Even without reading the book, we know she's bad news. With the search for Billy Costa woven throughout Mrs Coulter's meeting with Lyra, it's pretty obvious she's involved with the missing children somehow, and she gets a great entrance on the heels of Magisterium agents referring to an unnamed "her."

More than anything else, Mrs Coulter is a seductress, embodying the Old Testament take on the serpent with a mouth full of lies and deception (well before the Gnostic serpent turns up and offers wisdom and the experience of love instead - aw man, I can't WAIT for Mary Malone!) and so the scene in which she captivates Lyra as the Master watches warily from the next seat over and Roger haplessly tries to get his friend's attention was beautifully played.

On that note, the friendship between Lyra and Roger is also nicely done. On the one hand, you can tell he's from a lower class than her, given that he actually brings her breakfast on a tray and serves her at the dinner table, on the other, it's clear that as spoiled as Lyra can be, she cares nothing for class boundaries.

***

Dafne Keen is a great choice for Lyra; I'll admit I have no interest in seeing Logan, but she has that feral air about her which I'm sure was a huge asset while playing X-23. James McAvoy nails the passion and high-mindedness of Asriel, and he's certainly a man that you would jump to obey, though I always felt the character would be a bit more physically imposing... like for example, Daniel Craig.

Likewise, Ruth Wilson isn't quite oozing the sexual power that Nicole Kidman had in abundance, even when the show directly steals that scene from the film in which she walks down the central aisle of the banquet hall and commands attention from absolutely everyone.

Lord Boreal (Ariyon Bakare) turns up surprisingly early, though this casting choice is perhaps the one false note of the episode. In the book he's a sleazy white creepster; here he's a young and handsome black guy. As with Carnival Row, I feel uncomfortable when minority actors end up in the roles of characters that are working for the Establishment; clearly against their best interests and largely in order to hurt others.

I don't want to get too much into this, as it's not like Pullman himself was particularly interested in racial politics, but to cast a black man as an agent of an organization that's clearly analogous to the worst parts of an institution that has thrived for centuries on white supremacy and call it "colour blind casting" is pretty disingenuous.

I'll refrain from commenting much further at this point, especially since Boreal ends up more of a plot device than an actual character - much like the Master of Jordan College in fact, who I realize for the first time is largely used (in book as well as show) as a way of getting the story where it needs to go.

I mean, when you think about it, nothing this guys does makes any sense. Tries to poison Lord Asriel? Gives Lyra over to the custody of Mrs Coulter? Just HANDS Lyra a rare and priceless altheiometer with very little idea of what she's going to do with it? On the surface all of these choices are objectively bad, and we never really understand why he makes them.

What I'm really here for is the added insight into these characters that don't exist in the book, which admittedly, can be pretty hit or miss. For instance, I loved Mrs Coulter's reaction to Lyra hugging her for the first time, and her comments on how looking out over the barren Arctic ice made her feel: "alone... but magnificent." Because of course it would.

But what to make of Lord Asriel responding to Roger's insistence that: "Lyra's special!" with the claim: "everyone's special!" Buh? Putting aside the strangeness of Roger daring to shout at a lord that way, or even the complete randomness of the exchange itself, it's an odd line coming from Asriel, who definitely thinks of himself as FAR more special than everyone around him, including the child he's talking to, who he eventually murders in order to achieve his goals. It would have made more sense if he had said: "nobody's special!"

Is it all a set-up for a callback at the Northern Lights? Is it trying to garner some sympathy for Asriel considering he's following the call of the "greater good"? Either way, it didn't quite work for me.

Also strange was Lyra deciding to join Mrs Coulter on the zeppelin on what seems to be little more than a whim, taking no luggage to speak of and making no goodbyes to anyone else. And Mrs Coulter was casually waiting for her, and presumably just going to leave if Lyra didn't turn up? C'mon, she wasn't leaving Oxford without her daughter, that was the whole point of her mission to the university, and there would have been at least three contingency plans in place to nab Lyra if she'd refused.

Miscellaneous Observations:

The panoramic views of Oxford were nice, particularly the parts that made it clear this was not the Oxford of our world - namely the gargoyles sculptured to look like animals, which were certainly meant to be daemons.

They borrowed just a little from La Belle Savauge when Lord Asriel brings baby Lyra to Jordan College, though apart from the gyrocopter it plays out very differently in the last few pages of the book (he did not have to wade through flooded water, for example).

There are a few scenes here and there which give us glimpses of events outside Lyra's perspective, which I always appreciate: in this case Asriel actually taking the photograms in the north, and a discussion between a Magisterium agent and Lord Boreal.

When Asriel pulls out Grumman's head as an incentive for getting funding for an expedition, I was struck for the first time by the fact that we know this isn't Grumman at all. So... who is it? I've forgotten if the books ever provide an answer.

Between Asriel, Mrs Coulter and the Master, they are definitely keeping the thematically important (but also narratively convenient) aspect of adults never telling Lyra anything important. For Mrs Coulter it's because she wants to keep Lyra in the dark as to her dastardly activities, for Asriel it's because he alone understands the full horrors of the world she lives in, and for the Master it's simply because of what the alethiometer tells him. His fireside conversation with the Librarian is a little clunky, but it gets the necessary words across: betrayal, experience and innocence.

I'm glad they kept in the line about Lyra wanting to see the severed head, though Asriel's amused response to it was all wrong. I mean, he and Mrs Coulter are without a doubt the WORST parents of all time, in ways that are precise opposites. Mrs Coulter cares deeply about Lyra for entirely selfish reasons, while Asriel barely gives a shit about her - at least not until he realizes her importance. It's all very dark and complex, with these two managing to be both devoted and negligent, and the show hasn't quite done this justice yet. (Which might be unfair, since it's literally the first episode).

What's up with the design of the altheiometer? It's meant to be a literal compass, something you can cup in your hands like a treasure box. This is flat and squarish, not at all beautiful or heavy. That said, I loved Lyra asking it a question out loud, having only been told that its purpose is to tell the truth. That's clearly something a child would do based on the information she has, and a nice way of showing the audience what doesn't work before Lyra starts figuring out what does.

So far, so... adequate. The casting is strong, the world-building is in place, and though there's a bit of restructuring as to how the characters get to where they're going and learn what they need to know (like Lyra watching the attempt on Asriel's life from the rooftop instead of deliberately hiding in a cupboard) most of the choices make sense - even the clumsy ones.

Let's do this!