On TV

Blitz: London's Firestorm (C4)

LADY Dedlock stared out of the window at the rain. "I am bored to death with it. Bored to death with this place, bored to death with this life, bored to death with myself."

Goodness, what an unhappy bunny. More Lady Deadloss than Lady Dedlock. As played by Gillian Anderson, she was the best thing in the opening episode of the heavily-hyped adaptation of Charles Dickens' Bleak House.

This, in case you've missed the barrage of trailers and publicity, is the BBC's attempt to bring Dickens to the masses by turning it into a soap. They hope twice-weekly episodes will get people watching a classic serial as they do EastEnders.

I doubt that Bleak House will achieve that goal. The double-length opening instalment couldn't overcome the problem of introducing dozens of characters and umpteen storylines without losing my interest.

Wobbly camerawork, rapid editing and a cast stuffed to the gills with familiar faces aren't enough to disguise that this is Dickens. Put people in a big hat, big frock and whiskers (and that's only the women) and you've got a costume drama, no matter what you say.

If they were really serious, they'd find a modern setting for the story, just as the BBC did to Chaucer with The Canterbury Tales and are about to do with Shakespeare, reinterpreting plays in today's world. It's not enough to put a few soap faces and Johnny Vegas (if they want to make something accessible to younger audiences, the BBC always put Johnny Vegas in it) in costume.

The sheer number of characters and plots in the opening episode was overwhelming. Yes, it's well made and well acted but I felt like Lady Deadloss - bored.

Blitz: London's Firestorm was also a costume drama, although a real-life one - a detailed hour-by-hour account of the night of December 29, 1940, when Hitler tried to bomb London into submission. This excellent documentary told the story through archive footage, reconstructions and eyewitness accounts woven into a narrative.

The night ended with a square mile of the capital burnt to the ground but miraculously, St Paul's Cathedral in the centre survived. This symbol of London was one of Hitler's prime targets. The cathedral, already burnt to the ground twice during its history, was vulnerable, with the famous dome a 144ft high wooden firetrap that was virtually impossible for firefighters to save if it caught fire.

The German airforce dropped 10,000 incendiary bombs to start fires. Then they added to the blazes by dropping 550lb bombs. While they carried on dancing at the Savoy hotel, ordinary people took to the air raid shelters. Even there, they weren't safe.

"How would you feel if you watched your own home city burning?," asked Jessica Jacobs, a 15-year-old at the time. "Put yourself in the shoes of the people who were watching on that night."

We can try to imagine what it was like, but only those who lived through it really know the true horror.

Steptoe And Son In Murder At Oil Drum Lane, York Theatre Royal

THE main criterion for judging a comedy is simple: does it make you laugh? And there's no doubt that this new play starring two of TV's greatest comic characters is often very funny indeed.

I'm happy to report that any doubts about the wisdom of resurrecting Harold Steptoe and his dirty old man of a father Albert are swept away by Roger Smith's glorious production.

The play does have a few creaky moments but, overall, writers Ray Galton (who, with Alan Simpson, wrote the original series) and John Antrobus have found an ingenious way of reviving the rag-and-bone men.

Albert is dead, killed by his son Harold with an assegai while sitting on the toilet. Harold returns after going on the run in South America and encounters the ghost of his father in their old house, now a National Trust property.

That's an excuse for flashbacks to key moments in their relationship - Albert offering his son for sale, his interference in Harold's romantic affairs, and the row that prompted the murder.

The production looks and sounds like the Steptoe And Son we knew and loved. Jake Nightingale (Harold) and Harry Dickman (Albert) don't do detailed impersonations as the warring father and son, but give enough of an impression to remind us of the originals, Harry H Corbett and Wilfred Brambell. Like the script, they capture the essence of the Steptoes.

While the core of the drama remains the father-son relationship, the play isn't afraid to throw in everything bar the kitchen sink to raise a laugh. This includes a priceless scene involving Michael Sharvell-Martin's German Ribbentrop that seems to have strayed in from another comedy, but is so funny that to remove it would be a crime.

It would be surprising if the play, receiving its world premiere at the Theatre Royal, doesn't have a life outside York.

* Until November 12. Tickets (01904) 623568.

Steve Pratt