The Man From Snowy River

[Mel O'Drama]

Or, as it was known internationally, Snowy River: The McGregor Saga.

A little like Peyton Place, the series is based on a written work which had previously been adapted into films. Rather than a salacious novel, though, this is based on an 1890 poem by Banjo Paterson who also wrote Waltzing Matilda (the full title of the series is Banjo Paterson's The Man From Snowy River). I wasn't familiar with any previous iteration of the story, and perhaps that's a good thing. As I understand it, this is a different interpretation from either film or poem (indeed, the producer of one of the films sued the producers of the series for using the title). "The Man" of the poem is given a different name here, and probably a very different background apart from the legendary ride and the stockman aspect. Some edited poem lyrics do get dropped into the first episode, heard in the form of a song accompanied by an accordion.

The casting is hugely exciting for being a massive fusion of that friendly rep company that is the Australian soap circuit. In soap terms, the core family is made up of titular patriarch Terry Hansen and his children: a younger daughter and two older lads, Mike Young and Peter Healy. Their housekeeper is Doreen Burns. Terry is wooing the original Jilly Stewart who has moved onto adjoining land with her son, Toby Mangel (the more generic replacement version, as opposed to the one with the blocked nose).

Then there's the obligatory wealthy landowner who intimidates, his spoilt princess of a daughter who goes full on Lolita when left alone with any young man and the son keen to get daddy to notice him.

The other key player is The Man's brash young American nephew, newly arrived with a huge chip on his shoulder and something to prove. Naturally, he instantly enters a Miles/Jeff dynamic with his cousin, particularly when it comes to the landowner's daughter. The actor seemed very familiar and I thought it was because he looked like an older, better looking Jason Lochner, but it turns out Josh Lucas has since been in a number of big Hollywood films and I recognised him from Hulk and Poseidon (it seems he's come full circle with the rugged, dusty, soapy dramas having recently appeared in Yellowstone).

In terms of tone, it's a bit of a mixed bag. There's the rugged outback associated with The Flying Doctors. The testosterone, feuding and livestock aspect from Dallas (Wikipedia's notes are very emphatic that Matt McGregor is not a cowboy and does not reside on a ranch, since these are both American terms. He is a stockman whose property is a station. I'll have to keep an ear open to see if there are any inaccuracies).

More than anything, the tone feels reminiscent of cosy American series like The Waltons (perhaps not surprising, with Earl Hamner's name attached to it). It's also very much how I imagine Little House On The Prairie to be (though I have little more than a passing acquaintance with that series. Perhaps Willie can confirm).

It's a nice show, but feels a little more genteel than I've come to expect from Aussie series. For all its apparent earthiness and honesty, something about it feels very sanitised and safe. It has a rugged charm, but the edge has definitely been softened. This feeling is strongly reinforced by the recaps in which an American(!) narrator speaks slowly over scenes from previous episodes, telling us in words of two syllables or less exactly who everyone is, what their relationship is to one another and what significant thing they did in the previous episode. It all seems so patronising and unnecessary, until I consider this was probably intended for international screenings on The Family Channel (each episode so far on Prime has been rated age 7+, which I suppose is your basic PG).

This is also a series where a number of plots are resolved within an episode or two, be it the abusive schoolteacher who beat young Danni or the bullied boy who struggled to read until he was treated to a pair of spectacles. That said, there's probably more serialisation than it feels like. It's successfully written in a way that keeps things accessible, with ongoing threads easily picked up (even without the condescending recap narration).

With the family-friendly tone in mind, there's probably no danger of Andrew Clarke getting any "rapist to hero" storylines this time round (he's already the hero anyway, though I suppose it could play out in reverse if he got involved in some kind of Sid Fairgate situation). No matter, he's as engagingly charismatic as ever here. As are the rest of the cast. Wendy Hughes's flame red hair helps me envisage how her Jilly may have looked had she gone back to do the series version of Return To Eden. And after the doctor white coat/stethoscope combo of his previous long-running series, Brett Climo has gone from dishy medic to dishy cleric as a man of the cloth, having occasional crises of faith. Which makes him more tantalisingly unobtainable than ever.

He's even managed to throw a few punches, so the series isn't completely without an edge.

The scenery is very nice indeed, albeit a little fuzzy with the definition limits of the time. And there's a strange thing going on where shadows of hair or hat on the face take on an almost bright red hue sometimes.

The music feels seems to be where the budget kicked in. It's written to be epic and sweeping, but sounds as though the entire "orchestra" is one man on a synthesiser in his garage. The final effect is a bit cheap. Like the soundtrack to a Saban animated series.

Despite the series not bowling me over, and my reservations over the Aussie-American thing, the series is proving anything but a chore to watch. The cast includes some favourite Aussie actors and the first half a dozen episodes have slipped by uneventfully-but-enjoyably. It looks like I'll be continuing with this one.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

With the seventh episode, the series seemed to just click with me. And this was built on with the eighth.

Almost every episode so far has had featured a character or two in serious jeopardy, be it from a plummet down a mineshaft, falling from a horse or being lost at night in severe weather. In these two episodes, no less than two main characters have been dramatically shot. There's been a hostage situation. Several seductions. A grand dance. And romantic imbroglios galore.

Episode Seven's exciting jeopardy came out of a number of running threads: the lawless prospectors camping on the edge of town as a result of the gold strike; the Blackwoods' desire to drive Kathleen from town to build their railway; Kathleen's need to stand up for what she has.

Kathleen had a Miss Ellie moment when she marched to the prospectors' camp after they shot her heifer for food. When met with insolence, she produced a shotgun from beneath her overcoat and aimed it at the most vocal member until she was in receipt of payment. And she wasn't the only woman brandishing a shotgun.

After Jack was shot by some prospectors who he saw poisoning Kathleen's herd's drinking water (at Frank Blackwood's behest), young Danni grabbed a gun as she and Colin's new fiancée Emily marched to help Kathleen as the prospectors headed to Kathleen's to lynch Jack. I found it refreshing to see three women in this situation while being neither victims nor arse kicking feminists. They're simply characters who know the rules of the sometimes harsh remote area in which they live and do what they need to in order to defend their property. There was something of the Winds Of Vengeance to it as missing characters returned to help round up the villains of the piece, but I enjoyed seeing this side of the characters.

Tyrannical Oliver Blackwood ended up slapping his disappointment of a son round for going too far in carrying out their scheme. Shades of Jock and JR Ewing.

Meanwhile, things have become very sudsy in the romance department. There's preacher Colin's new engagement, of course. But that's nothing to the convoluted web that's come out of several triangles which have become interconnected.

Haughty Victoria Blackwood - for all the world an Aussie Fallon Carrington - has been playing off cousins naive Rob and cocky Luke, teasing both and seeing how far they'll go to get her company for the upcoming dance at the Blackwoods' home. She even had Rob defend her honour by fighting some prospectors who made a comment at her.

In the meantime, ice queen Anita Hargraves has returned to town. Initially for revenge against her old flame Matt. She seemed to forgive him but, despite befriending Victoria and learning of Victoria's attraction to Matt's nephew Luke, Anita has gone after newly rich Luke herself. It's all so twisted.

Realising that Luke and Anita were an item, Victoria went to her backup plan: Rob. But Rob, sensing Victoria's previous disinterest had already asked another girl as his own backup plan.

After some drama at the Blackwoods' dance, we were given a brief Who Shot Oliver Blackwood? mystery when a mysterious assailant gunned him down and Frank found a cartridge from Luke's gun on the verandah, which saw Luke locked up in the Blackwood larder awaiting justice (I'm still unclear, but it seems there's no official law enforcement in Paterson's Ridge, which makes it a scary place to live).

It's a bit of a shame the mystery of the shooting appeared to fall into the "episodic" category. The shooting took place halfway through the episode, and the mystery was resolved by episode's end, with Oliver confronting and intimidating the actual gunman. I do like that the assailant was a regular rather than a guest. And since nobody other than Oliver and the audience knows who actually fired the shot, it promises to add some enjoyable subtext to future scenes.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

young Danni grabbed a gun as she and Colin's new fiancée Emily marched to help Kathleen as the prospectors headed to Kathleen's to lynch Jack. I found it refreshing to see three women in this situation while being neither victims nor arse kicking feminists. They're simply characters who know the rules of the sometimes harsh remote area in which they live and do what they need to in order to defend their property.

After writing this, I've realised that the scenario and imagery of the women protecting their turf with guns while bad men outside the building attempt to invade is very similar indeed to the climactic act of one of my favourite Ealing films Went The Day Well? (made during WWII, partly as a propaganda piece), in which Thora Hird is one of the women who is happy to have a go.

 

[James from London]

I'm getting a hint of The Yellow Rose's earthy outdoorsiness from these descriptions, but YR's probably the soapier of the two.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

I'm getting a hint of The Yellow Rose's earthy outdoorsiness from these descriptions, but YR's probably the soapier of the two.

As I've watched I've found parallels with a number of the prime time soaps (I probably do this on some level with every new series to help me mentally categorise and shorthand things). The Yellow Rose was on that sprang to mind as possibly the closest fit, based on your reviews and comments. Since I've never actually seen it, I can't say for sure, but I have a feeling they may share some genes.

From what I understand, Snowy River also does TYR's thing of becoming less serialised in later episodes.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

There's no time to waste in Paterson's Ridge. Among other events, episodes Nine to Eleven have featured the series' first significant onscreen death, its first big wedding, another marriage proposal, a holdup or two, a burglary and a bitterly fought election.

The bigger events have played out well and I've especially enjoyed how interwoven the threads are. There's an eye for detail. The gold strike, for instance, led to a bushranger holding up a carriage which contained four key characters, each already at odds over romantic differences. One of the occupants fired a shot at the bushranger then became paranoid over a feared retaliation which led to them shooting a loved one in their own home because they were startled. Meanwhile, young Michael befriended the injured bushranger, only to be "rescued" by Colin and Rob. Which led to a moral dilemma when Michael pleaded against them taking the bushranger to face probable hanging.

It's been great fun to see Oliver Blackwood's Machiavellian string-pulling as he's manipulated Matt and Luke into running against one another for state parliament (just as he'd earlier manipulated Luke by propagating the idea that Matt had cheated Luke's father out of the station in which Matt now lives). Oliver's also "helped" Luke with loans and mortgages which he's now threatening to call in after Luke's proposal to Oliver's daughter Victoria. Oh, and he's presented Victoria with papers signing away her inheritance should she marry Luke. Oliver is such a great character. He's fairly arch, but very robustly played with great screen presence and is such fun to boo and hiss at while secretly rooting for him.

The big stuff's been a thrill, but as the palette broadens I find myself impressed by the smaller touches. The dialogue is almost lyrical at times, without being flowery. It's the kind of common sense prosaic stuff that you might hear on early Corrie.

Then there's the strength of the supporting cast. The town mayor has had the tiniest of roles, but is played by Sergeant Jack from The Flying Doctors. Then there are the Fowlers who run the town shop. Like H&A's Floss and Nev they're ex-carnies who add colour by simply being part of the fabric. But the casting is so strong. There's a kind of running gag where Mr Fowler looks as though he's about to say something and then is interrupted - usually by his chatty wife. I'm not clear if he's meant to be mute or henpecked but either way he hasn't spoken a word that I can remember. And yet he's played by Reg Gorman whose acting credentials are up there with any other Aussie actor (he's probably best remembered for being in just about every episode of The Sullivans). The more I stop to take in the small details of the town and the series, the more I like it.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

The end to the first season has been very satisfying. Stories that have bubbled along throughout the first dozen episodes came to a natural head in the thirteenth. Lives, livelihoods and homes at stake. Threats. Dramatic confrontations. Characters banished from town. It's all come out of the slow burn that's led us to this point.

What's more, the series had its cake and ate it too, with truths being spoken, good triumphing over evil (it's a little more grey than that, but karma has given payback to series antagonists while rewarding the protagonists). And while this is a satisfying conclusion that would have made a perfect end to the entire series, the are hints of hope for the future with yet another marriage proposal (one that will significantly affect every character) and a truce between Matt and Luke (not Bros, but uncle and nephew) bringing things full circle from the primary arc of the first few episodes.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Snowy River is back for a second season. They've marked this celebratory occasion by burning down the town church and having young Danni kidnapped by three male travellers and threatened with assault.

Oh - and they've pulled a Sid Fairgate by randomly killing off a returning lead character in the middle of the second episode. Without any kind of hint or warning.

Going from IMDb, I'd realised that not all characters were in it for the long haul. Sometimes I'll swing by to see an actor's name, and can't help but notice another actor's number of episodes. Based on that, all signs pointed to Josh Lucas and John Stanton departing early in the second season. All the same, the way it happened was gratifyingly surprising. A large scuffle with a fight and an attempted escape while horses are running round. Then a shot rings out, Luke falls to the ground wounded and it fades to commercial. When it fades back in, Matt is kneeling over a home-made cross atop a hastily-dug grave.

The fact that it happened in the desert, halfway through a journey that takes a week or so to reach civilisation, added a brutal starkness to the surprise. Of necessity, the farewell is hurried, so the closure is minimal. There's little time to process it because there's a lot of other life-threatening stuff going on. This angle - along with the imagery of the cross on the makeshift grave in arid conditions - reminded me strongly of Tenko.

What's more, Luke is probably not the only character lost to the desert. Oliver Blackwood - after kicking Matt to the ground (in order to save his own skin by stealing their horse and supplies), shooting at an indigenous man who tried to help him, and killing his own horse - found himself wandering in circles in the heat, surrounded only by sand, blazing heat and bleached bones. His fate is unclear, but it appears we won't be seeing or hearing from him again. It's karma, bush-style.

All of which has made the series feel unpredictable and far from the "safe and sanitised" world I felt when entering this series.


Also falling by the wayside are the Fowlers. I'll miss them. The shop is now run by a grouchy man. And it appears Doreen from Prisoner has also bowed out (not that she was in the first season that much anyway).

The score seems to have improved. Perhaps the budget is a bit bigger this year.


In meta news, young Michael found himself part time work as a printer's devil (temporary work, once Kathleen got wind of the biased headlines) and listed several famous writers who had begun their careers in newspapers. One of whom was none other than Banjo Paterson.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

A third of the way through Season Two and Snowy River continues to flow gently along, remaining consistent despite occasional changes to the scenery.

Kathleen now has a finger in every pie, from the newspaper to the railroad. With a sideline in sleuthing in order to help out Matt in his duty as an MP. A scene where a train was held up probably best described Kathleen's penchant for making everything her business When the train stopped, others waited patiently while Kathleen immediately stuck her head out of the window and demanded the driver tell her what was going on. Seeing there was danger, the driver instructed her to stay inside the train. Kathleen moved back inside the train just long enough to tell her companions "I'm going to see what's happening", before opening the door and stepping out. And the irony is that the train was held up specifically to prevent Kathleen from interfering by getting crucial papers to Matt.

Later on, with armed men outside telling everyone to stay in the carriage, Kathleen leaves again. She steps onto the ground and a shot is fired, landing near her feet. She pauses, then takes another step or two. Another shot is fired. She pulls a face resembling Mrs Slocombe when asked for a refund, hoists up her skirt and continues walking. And so it goes. Her stubborn attitude could be viewed as bravery under desperation. Or it could just be seen as someone who just can't help getting involved, no matter what the situation and no matter what the risk to others.

She's not alone. Colin was also on board the train and got himself shot by stepping out himself, trying to negotiate and not heeding warnings to get back (to be fair, Colin's ethereal mousy wife was pregnant and experiencing some pain. She ended up miscarrying). People get shot a fair bit on this series. Just an episode or so earlier, Colin had removed pellets from Rob's backside (in a mildly homoerotic scene) when Rob had been shot by Victoria.

Frank Blackwood is very much the Wayne Hamilton of the piece. A spoilt, privileged brat who smirks a lot and is generally nasty to everyone. Now there's no Oliver, Frank is on the verge of becoming a tyrant.

I haven't missed Oliver as much as I'd thought I would. And there hasn't really been time to miss Luke either. I've been too busy playing "spot the guest star". There was whiny Julie Webb from Sons and Daughters, playing a whiny single mother; there was Dr Clive the Gorillagram from Neighbours playing an ex-con who's also an expert douser, sniffing out water during a drought the way Digger Barnes claimed to sniff oil (it's to the series' credit that, despite me anticipating a Clive/Mike reunion when I first saw him, by the time they interacted later in the episode I was too invested in the story for the significance to register); there's Al the hologram from Quantum Leap as a blind professor who turned out to be neither, but actually a con artist who attempted to turn over the bank. And just arrived is Olivia Newton-John herself, as a mysterious woman looking for her father who turned up in time to help young Michael spread the word about the train hold up.

 

[James from London]

just arrived is Olivia Newton-John herself

No way!

 

[Mel O'Drama]

No way!

Way...

Incidentally, I usually skip the opening titles so her arrival was a big surprise to me. It also explains why I never noticed a credit for some other guests like Geoff Paine. Maybe I should start watching them if they're going to add that week's guest-star. Just for the anticipation.





Here she is with Terry Hansen:

I wonder if she'll sing...?

 

[James from London]

Here she is with Terry Hansen:

Xanadu meets Woombai!

I wonder if she'll sing...?

Funny how her prettiest songs seem to be aquatic in theme.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Xanadu meets Woombai!

Most definitely a place where nobody dared to go.

Funny how her prettiest songs seem to be aquatic in theme.

Yes indeed. I had a few to choose from even with "river" songs. Just because I have nothing better to do I had to look if Olivia was an astrological water sign but it seems not.

Looking for that, though, did lead me to ONJ's Wiki page where I was surprised to read she was born in England to a Welsh father: an MI5 officer who worked on the Enigma project at Bletchley Park and took Rudolf Hess into custody. Oh - and she's Ben Elton's third cousin. I couldn't read any more as my mind was a bit blown.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

I wonder if she'll sing...?

Oh - she did. And it was worked into the plot. Her character had to sing a secular version of The Rocking Carol like a siren to draw her long-lost young brother from a disused mineshaft where he was hiding, while his abusive stepfather - Martin Healy from Sons and Daughters - was threatening to bring it crashing down, despite being held at gunpoint.

The scene took place away from Paterson's Ridge, so sadly there were no Martin/Peter reunions. Actually, Brett Climo hardly appeared in said episode at all. He was presumably gearing up for the following Colin-heavy episode in which interfering Kathleen brought a found baby to the house because she thought it would be good for Emily who had recently miscarried (God spare me from clueless fixers like Kathleen). At first the mother was thought to be the coach crash's only other survivor: Alison's messed up sister from Melrose Place (AKA Mrs Cole Gioberti. Formerly Richard Dreyfuss and Bette Midler's messed up screen daughter. Latterly the nun sidekick from the Father Dowling Mysteries) Nobody believed her denials. But then she wasn't the mother, so the baby was an orphan, and forced repeatedly onto Emily by Kathleen. Only for the real mother to show up after Emily had bonded, meaning Emily had to give him up. Nice work, Kathleen.

The episode helped me appreciate the character of Emily who so far for much of the series has seemed a little insipid, mostly blending into the background. But I've now seen parallels with Olivia from A Place To Call Home. She's newly married to a man she adores, but struggling to find her sense of place and purpose within the family as well as the world. But when she feels strongly about something, she can be impassioned. As seen in her outburst to the woman she thought had abandoned a child.

It also gave us some very nice Brett Climo scenes. Like the wordless scene where he opens the drawer and takes out the booties that were ready for their baby and just gives a reflective little smile. And the scene where the aftermath of the coach crash and the found baby shook his faith again:

 

[Mel O'Drama]

In meta news, young Michael found himself part time work as a printer's devil (temporary work, once Kathleen got wind of the biased headlines) and listed several famous writers who had begun their careers in newspapers. One of whom was none other than Banjo Paterson.

Things got even more meta in the fourteenth episode of Season Two, after the Blackwoods destroyed an historic hut on their land in an attempt to cover up their convict lineage.

Banjo Paterson stayed in that hut.

You never told us that.

Aah. It was a long time ago.

Before he immortalised the famous Man From Snowy River in verse?

Yes.

What was he like?

Oh, he could tell you a story that'd bring tears to your eyes one minute and have ya rollin' with laughter the next. Never met anyone quite like him before. Or since.

Did he ever come back?

Never saw 'im again.

And so the man who created the man who became Matt McGregor actually met Matt before he created the Man. It's like TV's Constance MacKenzie revealing that she used to sell books to Grace Metalious before she wrote Peyton Place.


Banjo isn't the only real-life historical figure to cross paths with the McGregors. Alison From Melrose Place's Sister garnered interest for her sterling journalistic work writing articles about the people of the town for Kathleen's local paper and sending them to her father using a male pseudonym (daddy was a big cheese in American newspapers who refused to employ female journalists). This resulted in her father being convinced enough to offer her an enviable position and her being head-hunted by American Associated Press, leading to her inevitable departure from the series and sadness for young Rob since the two had fallen for one another.

Being ill-informed of such things, I randomly Googled to see if Ruth Whitney was based on a real journalist and it turns out she was. Albeit with a great deal of dramatic licence (the real Ruth's father, for example, was a gravestone designer rather than a bigwig in American press circles).

Now I find myself wondering how many other characters are based on real people.




On an unrelated note, I can't help being slightly concerned about filming conditions. In a great many indoor scenes this season, I've noticed that I can actually see the frosty breath of the actors. Is this an added touch of realism, or a sign that they were filming in a particularly harsh winter without adequate heating?

 

[Mel O'Drama]

The opening scene of Season Three was as disheartening as the close of Season Three- with its interconnected stories of the rebuilt church and the arrival of the Jewish Russian family in town - was heartwarming. Episode One of Season Three began with a strange young woman on horseback. After some moments, someone catches up with her and calls her name. Twice, so we don't miss it.

Danni. Danni McGregor.

At exactly the halfway point, the series has had its first major recast. Rarely a good sign.

The two Dannis really are night and day. Gone are the impish smile and the cheeky-but-innocent tomboy charm of young blonde Danni. New brunette Danni is more mature, rather more generic and with glamour model orthodontics which make her look very contemporary (and at times perhaps a little slutty).

There's no getting around the recast, though. Whether through accident or design, the opening episode was probably the most Danni-heavy episode to date, what with her crying over her ailing horse who needed to be shot and whipping up a miracle tonic for the other horses from her mother's recipe book and everything.

There were a few moments where I forgot and bought into the story, but overall the change of actor changed the energy of most of her interactions, which made things feel a little off-kilter and wrong. The fact that a number of the sets appear to be changed or expanded didn't help in that department (though perhaps they did help new Danni since not all the wrong feelings are laid at her feet).

The opening titles are confusing me. Josh Lucas and John Stanton are still present, despite both Luke and Oliver being killed a full season ago. Reg Evans as Jack has simply slipped away, but he's still in the opening titles. Up to the end of Season Two I'd assumed this was either contractual or because they couldn't be bothered changing the titles more than once a season. However now that they're still there in Season Three - along with Joelene Crnogorac's original being the only Danni in the credits - I'm thinking the version on Prime is some kind of syndicated variant with one set of credits that's been stuck on the entire series. It's the only explanation for 40% of the people in the opening titles having left the show.

​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Matt and Kathleen are now married - an event so big even the long-absent Jack briefly returned. Matt almost missed his wedding as he fell down a rocky mountain in his rescue-of-the-week plot.

In the series' soapiest plot yet, Kathleen's presumed-dead first husband Seamus showed up in what I believe is the first two-part story. It hit all the right notes, from the question of whether Matt's new marriage is recognised both in law and in the eyes of the Church, to Kathleen moving out just in case it wasn't. In Dallas terms, it's Double Wedding meets Home Again, right down to the latter's twist that the returnee whom everyone believes is out to take what's theirs is actually dying.

The Blackwoods appear to have fallen off the landscape entirely without any kind of mention.

Meanwhile there's a new American on the scene. This time it's ballsy cowgirl Montana Hale who won Matt's prize palomino with her impressive shooting skills, then hunted down the gang of men that stole it from her. Then she wanted Langara for herself, was told by Matt that it wasn't for sale but she could enquire about leasing Kathleen's old farm from them. And in the following episode, she mentions that she bought Kathleen's farm "months ago". The timelines are a little confusing, but at least it appears to be linear.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Reaching the end of Season Three means I've watched exactly 80% of the series. And it is still very watchable.

The addition of Josh - Colin and Emily's cheeky foster son with permanently sad soulful eyes a là Annie Fairgate - has helped the series keep the reassuring same-but-different vibe as it gently evolves without straying too far from comfortable familiarity. In some ways his presence is a way of keeping things even more the same. Ben Geurens has now become a young man, and Josh fills the gap his necessarily changing role has left.

Emily remains the character who irritates me. And I'm still not sure if this is by design. Very much like S&D's Lynn, she radiates sweetness and gentility. And like a lot of people who radiate sweetness, scratch the surface and she really isn't. She has that annoying big sister thing going on, where she fusses and flaps and tut-tuts and shakes her head and sighs at other people's conduct, whether it's Kathleen not wanting a big wedding, one of the boys not being forward with a girl they like or whatever. She sets herself up as a fixer and a do-er and does her good deeds very visibly like a good little martyr. But whenever anything nasty happens she's invariably the one who comes over all wan and ends up lying down with a touch of the vapours while others talk in whispers so as not to disturb her.

She oozes with the critical judgement of an entitled person who has everything she wants, and has no empathy that others don't live such a contented life. Case in point, her friend coming to stay having run away from her abusive marriage to a powerful man. "But what about the sanctity of your marriage vows?", Emily whines. Later, Emily discovers gaping, bloody lash marks on her friend's back and there's a moment where you think she gets it. Until she speaks: "How could you of all people marry someone like that?", she bewails. It seems victim blaming originated in Paterson's Ridge.

The stories remain mostly episodic. Catastrophe happens and it seems as though there's no way out until things turn around in the final act. This is always at the back of my mind when watching and adds a degree of safety. It's hard to be too concerned when the ending of each episode is usually a happy one.

There are times, though, when this works in the series favour. When the consequences are serious it has more impact because it goes against expectations. Such was the case with the Kathleen McGregor and James Gleeson's accident which saw their horse drawn carriage crash and the pair spending a freezing night in the woods. James was on the way to meet a pen friend and through the intimacy of their shared peril, Mr Gleeson revealed to Kathleen that he'd told his pen friend that he was The Man From Snowy River in order to impress her with his various exploits (giving Banjo Paterson another name-check).

Adding another layer to the episode, Mr Gleeson chose to hide the extend of his wounds from Kathleen so as not to worry her. Only he - and we - knew that he was bleeding badly under his jacket. I thought there was a quiet nobility to that choice. Mr Gleeson has been very much a gentleman in the series, and this seemed a very gentlemanly thing to do.

James Gleeson for me has been Snowy River's Doris Collins. They have a very similar energy and serve similar functions in their respective series: a reassuring presence who lightens the tone a little while reliably supporting the series' key female at their place of work.

Matt and Kathleen are a perfect pairing in many ways. One could say a little too perfect. In virtually every episode either one or the other manages to save the day through their ingenuity, persistence or sometimes sheer luck. With this in mind, it was something of a surprise that Kathleen wasn't able to save Mr Gleeson, and Matt arrived too late. He ended up dying from blood loss or internal injuries. And at his funeral it turned out that his pen pal knew he wasn't The Man but loved the real him.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

It seems the timings of watching this series have worked out perfectly. Or, more accurately, I've been extremely lucky.

When I first began watching, the first three seasons were available to watch on Prime, while the fourth wasn't. For most of the time I've accepted that my viewing would end at the close of Season Three (which, as it happened, actually had an ending that was quite neatly tied up). As I ran out of episodes, I'd started to consider watching Season Four on YouTube (remarkably the entire series seems to be on there), but then, miraculously, Prime made Season Four available (while removing Season Two).

This year has seen yet more major cast changes. Gone is Wendy Hughes, bumping Brett Climo to second billing (a change even more noticeable by the fact that long-gone Josh Lucas remained as third billed in the opening credits behind Hughes to the end of Season Three). Gone, too, is Ben Geurens. He actually departed before the end of Season Three when Michael went to meet his grandfather in Ireland. We learn at the beginning of S4 that Kathleen has now joined them. But there's been very little detail about her reasons for doing so, considering her husband and business are carrying on as usual in Paterson's Ridge (with Kathleen gone and James Gleeson dead, who on earth is running the paper?).

Also conspicuous by his absence is Guy Pearce. Curiously, he's featured in the revamped credits in third billing, with Rob said to be off running cattle for a few weeks. I'd imagine he was getting rather busy at this time, and perhaps some scheduling problems kept him from doing the opening episodes.

Stepping into Rob's shoes is his childhood friend, Wolverine Duncan, who's been off with the Navy for some years. Duncan comes with a significantly traumatic backstory and great efforts have been made for introductions to be made around town. He's even been given his own credit in the opening titles, despite this appearing to be one of his first roles. All the same, I can't help feeling that the character is an addition to cover for Rob until Guy returns, perhaps with some hasty tweaks to scripts. Many of his feats are those that one can easily envisage Rob doing (apart from the kiss with Rob's sister Danni, of course). He's even got a similar connection with Rob's beau Montana.

Whatever the case, it all works. Hugh Jackman filling in for Guy Pearce says "pedigree" in any world, doesn't it? Nevertheless, there's something about Jackman - for all his nice guy reputation - I've never been able to take to. His first scene saw him step from the train and clear his throat, which is something guaranteed to put me on guard. Turns out Jackman does a lot of glottal stuff - grunts and "aaah"s. Unfortunately, I feel the same way about throat clearing acting that Susie Blake's announcer felt about dressing gown dramas.

Still, there's no denying Hugh has a great deal of screen presence. And it's only five or six episodes, four of which I've already watched.

Meanwhile, Miss Kirov - the only remaining member of the fascinating Jewish Russian family to remain beyond their initial appearances in Season Two - has opened a tearoom behind her store, and is employing Danni in both. This gave a traveller to town the opportunity to get stuck into a (possibly unintentional) double entendre as he walked up to Danni outside the store as she wrote the specials on an A-board. Keeping his eyes fixed on Danni, he flatly declared "I would like to taste your wares".

As if that's not enough, there was another possible appearance from a genuine historical figure (albeit with an incredible amount of dramatic licence) when Mrs Tan walked out of her role as housekeeper following a disagreement with Danni, and was replaced by a chopsy Irish woman with no recommendations (her falling out with her last employer, we learn in dialogue vague enough to get the imagination firing, concerned a man to whom she wasn't married and the family's heirloom table). She did things her way, barked orders rather than followed them, and wasted no time in physically punishing young Josh for putting a frog in her kitchen.

And the woman's name? ...Mary Kelly. Which casts a new light on the Aussie-ism "you little ripper".

Emily remains the character who irritates me. And I'm still not sure if this is by design. Very much like S&D's Lynn, she radiates sweetness and gentility. And like a lot of people who radiate sweetness, scratch the surface and she really isn't.

Emily has become a whole lot more enjoyable now that some genuine bile has come to the fore. It began with a newcomer to town -Jessie McClusky: a "scarlet woman" with a low-cut dress who looks a bit like Wynonna Judd. She's taken over the hotel, shocking the town. She seemed to recognise Emily from a distance and Emily later recognised Jessie's name with horror. All of which led me to believe that Emily was perhaps one of her "girls" in a former life.

When a group of local women gathered outside the hotel to boo and (literally) cast stones, Emily joined them, marching in to order Jessie to leave. Horrified, Colin later spoke to her of his shock at her actions, and the conversation ended with her screeching at him and slapping his face when she thought Colin had leapt to the same conclusion I had ("My true colours, I'm afraid", she later said of her verbal and physical violence, filling me with hope that she won't spend this entire season simpering with radiant pregnant happiness).

Turns out Emily is one of her girls, but not in the way I'd thought: Jessie is in fact Emily's mother. And so Emily's background is not as twee as I'd come to believe. She tearfully talked of visiting friends' homes and not being able to reciprocate in case they saw the way she lived or asked awkward questions, in a scene I found rather profound.

And so, romantically entwined with a woman he thought he knew whose secrecy around her past is threatening their present and threatening the rules by which he lives, Colin has become George Bligh. Which seems appropriate, both being Brett Climo and all.

It's as though the scriptwriters heard my complaints and fixed it.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

One observation I forgot to make. At the end of one of Duncan's lines, Jackman - to my horror - used the term "OK".

Presumably this was a failed ad lib. I can't imagine the scriptwriters would have included such a blatant anachronism.



On a similar note, a number of characters have peppered their dialogue with "I mean". Usually used superfluously at the beginning of sentences. Wendy Hughes was the #1 offender with this, but Jackman's also covered it. To me it sounds extremely contemporary, and far from the formality that comes to mind when I think of the late Nineteenth Century with all its Victorian influences. That said, I don't know enough about language in general and Australian English in particular to know if "I mean" was casually used in this way in this place and time.