Anatomy of a Scandal Review: A fine adaptation

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. 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. A man with wealth, pedigree and considerable influence has the wherewithal to hide it better. That is the only difference. James Whitehouse (Friend), an English MP with close ties to the Prime Minister, is that kind of man. On the outside, he comes across as charming, a people’s politician willing to go the extra mile for his constituents. At home, he’s a loyal husband and dedicated father. But that’s the thing about an impossibly clean image…there is only so far it can carry you before the bubble bursts. 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. 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. Tom Southern (Britain’s Prime Minister) and James’ close friendship dates back to their raucous Oxford days. He is advised to lay low, until the smoke clears. 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. 

Creators - Melissa James Gibson, David E. Kelley
Director – S. J. Clarkson
Writers - Melissa James Gibson, David E. Kelley, Sarah Vaughan (novel) 
Cast – Sienna Miller, Michelle Dockery, Rupert Friend, Naomi Scott, Josette Simon, Geoffrey Streatfeild
Streaming On – Netflix 

The miniseries’ most memorable aspects are its pacing and acting. Only so much is revealed in the opening episodes, keeping your anticipation high for the subsequent ones to follow. 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. A ‘he said, she said’ situation arises as the court case gets underway. James’ flashbacks are shown intermittently before the focus shifts to Olivia Lytton (Scott), the complainant. Prosecution counsel, Kate Woodcraft (Dockery), questions her about the events of that day in the elevator. Olivia recounts them in detail, as the viewer is presented with short montages comprising her side of the story. Angela Regan (Simon), of the defence, quite predictably, goes down the tried-and-tested road of victim-blaming. It was not rape, but the consequence of an affair gone wrong. 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). In the elevator, Olivia claims the initial physical contact began consensually, but got out of hand when James became rough. He failed to adhere to her exclamation of “not here” and other non-verbal clues. The defence counsel badgers her repeatedly about the specific use of “no” or “stop”. 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 show’s fine dialogue points the viewer in the right moral direction. It paints the picture of a man’s journey from a rowdy collegiate golden boy to a seemingly straight-talking, upright Member of Parliament. With every passing frame, Sophie begins to question everything, even their heady days of youth. 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. His mother says that he used to cheat at Monopoly as a child and always talked his way out of it. “How could you let him cheat and make him believe it was okay? Sophie asks, perturbed. At the very beginning, Kate’s bright assistant mentions something that catches her attention, and by extension, the audience’s. “He looks like a rapist,” she says. When asked to clarify, she goes, “I always think when someone’s that handsome, look out.” No could well be inconceivable for someone of Whitehouse’s privilege. 

Sienna Miller leads the way with her role of the first-naïve then ever-questioning role of Sophie Whitehouse. Her transformation from the supportive wife to the discerning woman of a household that needs urgent revamp, is outstanding. She goes through the stages of grief until ultimately putting herself in the shoes of women who have been taken advantage of by entitled men. Michelle Dockery, Rupert Friend, Naomi Scott and Josette Simon may play second fiddle to Miller, but they’re quite superb. The fantasy scenes - James’ metaphorical gut-punch as he finds out about the allegations; Kate and James facing off as everything around them fades to black, etc. – don’t work, not for such a drama, at least. The twist comes off as a bit unrealistic too (the book better explains things there, one hopes). 
The relationships that form the story are key to an enhanced understanding. Be it the central one involving James and Sophie, Kate and her married partner’s complex bond, or even the unlikely camaraderie shared between the prosecutor and the defence lawyer, they’re all written well. The past foretells the future is the primary theme of the show. It raises subjects as important as consent, patriarchy, privilege, and male entitlement, addressing the unfair power differential between men and women in a variety of social settings.