The BBC's Anne of Avonlea Sticks Closer to the Book Than Kevin Sullivan's Miniseries

A long-time fan of Anne of Green Gables, I grew up watching the Kevin Sullivan miniseries based on the book and its sequel, based on the second, third and fourth books in L. M. Montgomery’s series. Those two adaptations have been firmly lodged in my mind for so long that I have a hard time thinking of them as anything other than definitive. Nonetheless, while Sullivan’s Anne of Green Gables is very true to the book, Anne of Avonlea takes all sorts of liberties, angering some purists. So when I discovered that the BBC had done a miniseries of Anne of Avonlea in the 1970s, I was eager to check it out.

Anne of Avonlea, as adapted by Elaine Morgan and directed by Joan Craft, is 350 minutes long and divided into six sections (or two DVDs). The first four are drawn from the book Anne of Avonlea, while the last two are from Anne of the Island. Upon reflection, I would have to say that of the five books in which Anne is the central character, Anne of Avonlea is probably the least eventful. It’s pleasant because we spend the whole time in a beloved locale, full of familiar characters like Marilla Cuthbert, Rachel Lynde, Diana Barry and Gilbert Blythe. But with Anne happily settled into village life and most of the major disasters of her impetuous youth behind her, there’s just not a lot of drama there.

I was all too aware of that throughout the first half of this miniseries. It was enjoyable enough, but it just seemed to move very slowly, especially because this is a very basic production that almost feels more like a play. The stirring score and gorgeous cinematography that contributed so much to the atmosphere of the Sullivan productions are absent here, making the whole thing seem quite drab. Additionally, if you’re familiar with the movies but not the books, as is the case with my mom, you’ll spend the first half of the miniseries comparing the actors from the two productions and wondering who all these new characters are that Sullivan skipped right over.

Rowdy Davy (Nicholas Lyndhurst) and mousy Dora Keith (Annabelle Lanyon), the orphaned children of Marilla’s cousin, are two of the most prominent newbies. Marilla (Barbara Hamilton) and Anne (Kim Braden) take the children in, and while Dora doesn’t cause much trouble, Davy is a bundle of angsty energy, fueled by his fear of abandonment and his jealousy that Anne is so fond of Paul Irving (Keith Steven), an eccentric, poetic pupil of hers. Of the three, Lyndhurst is the best actor, doing an effective job of conveying Davy’s emotional state and sounding more convincingly Canadian than the other two. Lanyon doesn’t sound Canadian at all, and it makes me wonder why that wasn’t a dealbreaker during casting. Maybe they figured she could learn; as it is, her British accent stands out jarringly whenever she speaks. Claire Lewis, who plays a young housekeeper nicknamed Charlotte IV, has a similar problem.

The adults are more consistent, and David Garfield as Mr. Harrison, the cranky neighbor with whom Anne develops a bond, is especially entertaining. Hazel Bainbridge is a kindly Mrs. Blythe, and Kathleen Byron does a good job of demonstrating the ethereality of Miss Lavendar Lewis. I also loved Susan Field in the role of Charlotte E. Morgan, a famous authoress Anne adores; she appears in just one small segment of the miniseries, but it’s one of the comedic and inspirational high points. Toward the end of the miniseries, we’re introduced to Philippa Gordon (Sabina Franklyn), a worldly student who boards with Anne and Jane (Zuleika Robson) at college, as well as her beau Jonas Blake (David Troughton), a humble clergyman. I thought that both of these characters came across very well, with the contrast between them accentuated effectively. I was less impressed with Anthony Forrest, who failed to elicit a flutter from me as Anne’s sophisticated college boyfriend, Roy Gardiner, even though this production’s Gilbert (Christopher Blake) is nothing like the heartthrob Jonathan Crombie is. He’s sweet but awkward in a Neville Longbottomish sort of way, and it’s a little easier to understand how Anne could have failed to fall madly in love with him years ago.

The performances of Megan Follows and Colleen Dewhurst are so iconic that I have a hard time adjusting to Braden and Hamilton, but I tried to remind myself that this adaptation came first and that nobody who watched it in the 1970s had such preconceived notions. Comparisons aside, each does a good job with the material. Braden comes off as passionate but less moony than Follows, while Hamilton has a permanent pout on her face that makes me think of Narnia’s Puddleglum. I miss the crinkle around Dewhurst’s eyes, but I do enjoy Hamilton’s dowdy take on the character. As Rachel Lynde, Madge Ryan is every bit as shrill and annoying as Patricia Hamilton, who happens to be Barbara Hamltion’s sister, but she lacks Hamilton’s impeccable comic timing.

The first half of the miniseries is comfortable but poky. If you love these characters already, it’s not a bad way to spend three hours. But the second half is much more interesting. It’s in this portion that adulthood really starts creeping up on Anne. Along with going to college, she receives marriage proposals from four different men, two of whom are laughably unsuitable, reminding me of Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice. On the more somber side of things, she suffers the loss of a childhood friend to illness, an experience that will haunt her all the more when Gilbert nearly succumbs to typhoid fever. The realization of how much Gilbert means to her finally dawns in a sweet scene that brings her some answers to the questions she had about her parents, but it isn’t until the very end of the miniseries that she makes Gilbert aware of this. It’s such a momentous occasion, I do think that Morgan and Craft could have given us a bit more; the tiny concluding scene hardly seems sufficient and certainly isn’t as eye-mistingly tender as Sullivan’s.

So my loyalties remain with Sullivan, his unfortunate third installment aside. But if you felt the Avonlea gang got the short end of the stick under his watch, you can get your fill of Davy, Dora, Paul, Mr. Harrison and the rest in the BBC version of Anne of Avonlea.