A sudden chill today. And it brings me back to… LONDON
Charles Dickens’ London – the nastiest but most vivid image of Victorian England, of intertwined alleys, smoking chimneys, hidden penthouses, looming dome of St Paul’s Cathedral, black coaches, cobble stones paths, Spitalfields Market, shopfronts with glass doors, gentlemen with walking sticks, the notorious Newgate prison, River Thames, noises, chaos, mixed accents, Gustave Dore’s woodcut engravings.
And Roman Polanski’s adaptation is not too stylish but faithful, or may be, detached. That may not be the most memorable film adaptation of a Victorian novel, still I am glad to have seen it. After all, my image of England very much remains to be Dickens’ London; and if it ever grows, it never steps beyond Edwardian England.