On TV

I SHOULDN'T think there's a man in the world who would want to marry a pockmarked nobody like me," a resigned Esther told Mr Jarndyce.

Mr Jarndyce begged to differ. Indeed, he looked as if he was on the point of declaring his true intentions towards Esther, pox or no pox. But the words just wouldn't come. Instead, he was left crestfallen as once again the moment passed.

Now halfway through its run, Bleak House proves that serious drama doesn't have to come in unwieldy chunks. Instead, it has defied the purists who accused Andrew Davies of dumbing-down when he adapted Dickens' novel for the small screen, missing out characters, adding others, and even neglecting the fog. But while it may not have pleased some devotees, what it does have is a cracking cast, a rattling good script and, most importantly of all, plenty of drama.

Last night's episode, as well as Mr Jarndyce failing to declare his undying love, saw Tulkinghorn, played with chilling menace by Charles Dance, match Nemo's handwriting with the legal documents, and draw closer to discovering Lady Dedlock's secret, while Smallweed, a Steptoe-like Phil Daniels who needs to be shaken, although presumably not stirred, every few minutes, sniffs an opportunity to make money at the expense of said lady.

The episode's dramatic climax came when Lady Dedlock, a delicious Gillian Anderson, sought out Esther to tell her that she was the illegitimate daughter taken from her 20 years previously, the result of a snatched liaison with a soldier who went the next day to the West Indies never to return. And just when Esther thought she had been reunited with her mother, she was told they must never see each other again, for fear of bringing scandal upon the Dedlocks.

It was a measure of both the wisdom of splitting such a sprawling story into bite-sized chunks and of the quality of the adaptation, that what in other hands could have been a pivotal moment, instead became one of many dramatic high points so far, with many more promised.

If aficionados of the book can resist the urge to spot the departures from the original, and everyone else can get past the "Oh look, it's so and so", temptation, this is shaping up to be one of the television events of the year.

Sejanus: His downfall, RSC, People's Theatre, Newcastle

THIS was written by Ben Johnson (Shakespeare's contemporary) in 1603, the year Queen Elizabeth died and plots abounded. The Earl of Essex had been executed for treason, Sir Walter Raleigh had been put on trial for a similar offence and just two years later, there was the Gunpowder Plot.

Using the decadence of Rome under Tiberius as a cover to comment on the political anxieties of England, Johnson touched the raw nerve of the royal court and was hauled before the Privy Council to answer treason charges. He survived after rewrites! Sejanus is like any of the despotic army generals we have seen in the last 100 years. This is full-on bloodlust: murder, show trials, suicide, sexual preying, the public burning of books and plots. The term "power corrupts" applies. Like today, religion is used to justify these actions. "'Twas only fear first in the world made gods," says Sejanus. And later: "What excellent fools religion makes of men".

William Houston, as Sejanus, is superb. He's scary but sympathetic. His role, as the Emperor Tiberius's favourite, is to carry out his master's dirty work. As a low-born praetorian guard, he eliminates his enemies to become heir. Or at least he thinks he's achieved that position. Sitting aloof in the Senate he is arrested and thrown to the mob, who dismember him. It's intense and very long but worth it for Houston's immaculate performance.

* Sejanus can be seen again tomorrow and on Thursday. Box Office: 0870 905 5060.

Ed Waugh