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Escapism is in high demand. News headlines being the stereoscopic View-Master reel of gut-punch tragedy that they currently are, people understandably want out. Those with the means and the energy can travel, and for everybody else: there’s A Discovery of Witches on Netflix.
To be transparent, this isn’t the best AMC fantasy series that’s just arrived on Netflix in the US; that would be Interview with the Vampire, which may be the best series of any kind to arrive anywhere for some time. Breathe deep the heady brilliance of that, and then spritz yourself with A Discovery of Witches’ refreshing mist.
Adapted from Deborah Harkness’ trilogy of novels, A Discovery of Witches is about the kind of woman that little girls dream they’ll grow up to become, before real life and carbohydrates intervene. Played by Teresa Palmer, Dr Diana Bishop is a Yale professor with a PhD from Oxford who spends her early mornings solo rowing and her days poring over ancient texts in beautiful historic libraries. An orphan (naturally), she was raised by delightful lesbian aunts in a delightful lesbian cottage with a wraparound porch in Madison, NY. The traumatic death of her parents aside, Diana’s youth had the honeyed glow of a Country Living magazine shoot: fall leaves, pumpkins, chunky knit sweaters, bundled herbs hung to dry in the rustic kitchen… and Aunts Em (The Blacklist’s Valarie Pettiford) and Sarah (ER and Doctor Who’s Alex Kingston) there to provide guidance, hot chocolate and hugs.
All of that made Diana Bishop everything you’d want to be: clever, brave, principled, with the looks of a Minogue sister and oh yeah the power of a million suns burning inside her. Short version: she’s a witch but her magical abilities were cauterised as a child for her own protection, so while her spellcasting starts out charmingly clumsy, she has the potential for Very Big Things.
Very Big Things happen to Diana over three seasons of A Discovery of Witches, first in the form of debonair Oxford scientist Matthew Clairmont (The Crown and Stoker’s Matthew Goode). He’s cultured, wealthy, powerful and irresistibly drawn to Diana but also refuses to have sex with her, making him the ideal PG-13 hero. They fall in tingly love that’s made all the tinglier by the fact that it’s forbidden by an ancient covenant.
This particular magical world is segregated along brutally defended species lines, you see, and in news that surprises nobody, pale, handsome stranger Matthew turns out to be a vampire – and kind of a big deal. His ancient aristocratic family wield all kinds of entrenched power, and also have particular beef with witches in the ‘we used to hunt them for fun’ way. It’s a Montague/Capulet deal, and fairly hot while also being basically SFW.
Matthew’s vampire mother, played by Lindsay Duncan, is so fancy that they definitely close Harrods for her every time she needs to buy a new pair of leather gloves. She’s essentially a bottle of extremely chic perfume in the shape of a person, and so powerful that Logan Roy from Succession would willingly do her laundry and be grateful for the opportunity. Not only is she named Ysabeau de Clermont, she also lives in a French castle and did I mention that she’s called Ysabeau de Clermont, less a name than a collection of the poshest sounds the Indo-European languages can muster.
There’s a large supporting cast of witches, vampires and demons, all standing at various places on the ‘How Much I Desperately Want to Kill Witches/Vampires/Demons’ spectrum. It’s notionally a show about prejudice, trauma, and emotional growth, but really it’s about doing sexy tangos in French castles, speedboating to Venetian islands and growing sparkly trees out of your fingertips.
After Diana unwittingly causes a ruckus in Oxford’s Bodleian Library when she consults a magical book that reacts to her suppressed powers like Mentos in Coca-Cola, the search is on for her to work out where she fits in this fantasy universe, half of which wants to murder her and Matthew for their illicit love, and the other half of which needs their protection. Over three seasons, Diana and Matthew go on a journey to figure out exactly where she fits on the ‘Growing sparkly trees out of your fingertips’ scale (answer: near the top) and whether he can overcome various traumas and enemies (mostly) of his own making.
The real magic of A Discovery of Witches is that it was made for what was surely a modest budget in Wales (by Doctor Who producers Bad Wolf) and yet is more glamorous than Joan Collins’ jewelry box. Venice. The South of France. New Orleans. Shakespeare’s London. The Scottish Highlands. Oxford’s dreaming spires… The locations are a five-star tour of the kind advertised in the back pages of the glossiest magazines. You will have wallpaper envy and you will come to curse the fact that your in-laws don’t live in a massive French castle. (Unless they do, in which case, good for you. Your Christmases must be stunning.)
Is it scary? It is not. Apart from the odd scenes of torture, some throat-mangling vamp stuff, and one storyline involving a book made of person-skin, it’s basically young adult-appropriate. It’s also a good yarn, despite some unnatural concertinaing of the lengthy books (demons don’t get enough attention, and the whole cast is so large that some characters flit in and out without much understanding of quite what drives them or their murderous rages).
Overall, it’s a tonic. Well-cast, well-designed, well-performed. And best of all: while you’re under its power, the real world remains a distant blur. If current affairs are making you feel like burrowing underground, then this show makes the perfect glamorous escape tunnel.
AMC’s A Discovery of Witches seasons one to three are streaming now on Netflix US.
The post A Discovery of Witches: Your Next Escapist Fantasy Binge appeared first on Den of Geek.
