In this vibrantly acted “revenge romp”, based on Barbara Taylor Bradford’s bestselling novel, a Yorkshire kitchen maid’s plan to acquire wealth and power spirals out of control and leads to unhinged class war. The eight-part Channel 4 series has clearly been influenced by Succession, as well as The Favourite and Parasite, (though, admittedly, it’s dafter than any of the above). The whole thing comes together, gloriously, in the twist-packed final episode.
Anyone new to the material might be surprised that the bonking far outweighs the romance. And AWOS may also outrage fans of BTB’s book, and the moreishly earnest 1980s miniseries, which starred Jenny Seagrove, Deborah Kerr and Liam Neeson. Where the first adaptation stuck closely to the novel, this one offers a radical reboot.
Belfast actor Jessica Reynolds (Kneecap, House of Guinness) is extraordinary as Emma Harte, who gets exploited, impregnated, betrayed, sexually assaulted and generally underestimated by various members of the aristocratic Fairley family, in the first decades of the 20th century. Full of coiled intensity, Reynolds ensures that tiny, hardworking Emma – even when delivering duff lines that make her sound like the Edwardian equivalent of a wellness coach – is always the most interesting person in the room.
Brenda Blethyn, leaning into the camp elements of her role as the septuagenarian version of Emma, is just as magnetic. It’s New York, in the mid-Seventies, and Emma is now “the world’s richest woman”, folksily micromanaging her vast retail empire. Emma has Rothkos coming out of her ears. Mo money mo problems? Of course. Her four children view her as an irksome old boot and are plotting to take control of her assets.
As Emma confronts her eldest daughter, Blethyn slides effortlessly from gimlet-eyed contempt to genuine, if slightly operatic, anguish. The 80-year-old star, in case you’re wondering, looks nothing like she does in cop show Vera, ditching DCI Stanhope’s voluminous trench coat for a series of glamorous outfits.
Meanwhile, Ewan Horrocks is brilliant as Emma’s first sweetheart Edwin Fairley (the teens make photogenic love in a location the cast have nicknamed a “sex cave”, on the moors). Edwin is a numb blonde; a damaged rich kid; a smokin’ little-boy-lost. But Horrocks gives the character hinterland, even as he hints at Edwin’s shallowness. It’s a really crafty bit of work. And it shows off the talent of writers Katherine Jakeways and Roanne Bardsley. The pair know Horrocks is their secret weapon, and deploy him beautifully.
As in Emerald Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights”, very few of the main roles have been filled by northerners (Leanne Best, as Edwin’s mum, along with Will Mellor, as Emma’s dad, and Philip Hill-Pearson, as Emma’s first husband, are the exceptions). If that wounds Northern pride, at least the Yorkshire accents are decent (or sounded so, to my Southern ears). In a lovely exchange, Emma’s soulful, giggly little brother Frank (the superlative Lenny Rush) notes Emma’s efforts to “improve” her elocution, complaining, “You don’t sound like yourself.” A real effort, you feel, has been made to show the value of where Emma comes from.
And for those on tenterhooks to know if army officer Paul McGill puts in an appearance, the answer is no. Which, of course, is another huge plus. (Don’t get me started on that love-bombing, mendacious Australian berk). The production design is also fabulous, with the interiors of “wicked” Fairley Hall especially atmospheric. Still, let’s not pretend AWOS gets everything right.
They’ve ruined Emma’s Irish best friend and almost-love interest, Mac O’Neill, the part originally played by Neeson. The new O’Neill (Niall Wright) has no interesting opinions on architecture. His function is simply to throw punches, wear a rogueish earring, and marvel at his pal – “Is there anything in the whole world you can’t do?” he asks Emma. Poor Wright. As acting jobs go, it’s surely the equivalent of scrubbing the kitchen floor.
And there’s more. In the novel and the miniseries, space and time are given to complicated Jewish family the Kallinskis. Emma comes to the rescue of Kyiv immigrant Abraham when he’s the victim of “naked racism” on the mean streets of Leeds. He educates her about antisemitism, a form of prejudice Emma instantly links to the oppression of the working classes. BTB is on record as saying, “You couldn’t write a book about Leeds, at the turn of the century, without including a family like the Kallinskis.” So why, in the new series, have the clan been all but erased?
One last gripe. Way too much time is spent on the lust triangle between Edwin’s mum, her insecure sister Olivia (Lydia Leonard), and clenched Fairley patriarch Adam (Emmett J Scanlan). It’s as if someone high up sent a memo saying, “We need more illicit shagging! Like in Rivals!” For this viewer, however, the neurotic bed-hopping (which continues even after one of the trio is dead) was akin to torture.
Thankfully, despite the longueurs, AWOS gets where it needs to go. In the book, our vengeance-seeking heroine orders Fairley Hall to be razed to the ground, and by the end, has the elite at her feet. In the new version, Emma is just as angry, but leaves the pillars of the establishment unshaken, and ultimately faces an uncertain future. How apt. Social mobility, in the UK, has been in decline since the Eighties. Kudos to the creators of this mostly thrilling series, for forcing BTB’s most beloved character to move with the times.
