The Confessions of Frannie Langton (★★★★☆) is unquestionably gripping, the spark of well-struck flint that quickly catches fire and burns slowly with great satisfaction all the way through this four-part miniseries based on the 2019 historical fiction novel of the same name by Jamaican-born British-Caymanian writer Sara Collins, her brilliant debut.Like any great mystery, the central question is only answered through the begetting and resolution of numerous other curiosities, some more chilling than others.
What carries this story so capably is the textured performance of Karla-Simone Spence in the title role, a measured navigation through grief, anger, and extraordinary patience with the incredulity of her white counterparts.Frannie is unusually well-read for anyone, let alone an enslaved woman, and her unyielding confidence earned through that rare education manages to provoke ire from her racist housekeeper Linux (Pooky Quesnel) and simmering attraction from lady-of-the-house Madame Marguerite Benham (Sophie Cookson).Frannie is an irresistible character: neither saint nor villain, she is wonderfully human, occupied by, and persevering through, the frailties and frustrations in response to what could be a central thesis of the show, uttered to her as a child by her mother before she was taken away: “Listen to me: mind yourself… not one damn thing more dangerous than a white woman when she get bored.”That particular boredom courses through the narrative, from the aristocrat who takes Frannie under her wing for self-absorbed instruction to the aforementioned Linux, overcome with resentment and pettiness toward Frannie, to Marguerite, who plays with fire and has a bad habit of erroneously finding herself relatable to.
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