Apparently, we live at a time when politicians regularly mishandle classified information and inflate their résumés, but it is hard to top the reckless, unethical, and illegal behavior demonstrated by former UK Labour Party cabinet minister John Stonehouse in the 1960s.
To escape mounting debts and pending investigations, Stonehouse notoriously tried to fake his own death. Obviously, it did not work, or we would not have the second two episodes of the three-part drama “Stonehouse.”
As portrayed by Matthew Macfadyen, Stonehouse certainly comes across like a pompous phony. However, compared to rumpled, middle-aged Prime Minister Harold Wilson, Stonehouse looks much more vigorous, so maybe he could broaden Labour’s appeal to young voters.
At least that was Wilson’s justification for appointing him a junior cabinet member in his 1960s government. The ambitious Stonehouse was determined to make the most of it but, allegedly, ran into trouble during an official visit to communist-era Czechoslovakia.
According to screenwriter John Preston’s screenplay, Stonehouse was blackmailed by the regime to act as a spy, after he foolishly fell into the seduction trap set by his “translator.” It should be noted that the real-life Stonehouse denied this allegation to his dying day. Nevertheless, this is not a slander created out of whole cloth by Preston, but a widely held suspicion repeatedly aired in public.
Regardless, the Stonehouse of Preston and Macfadyen quickly makes peace with the arrangement, thanks to the regular cash payments that the Czechoslovakian intelligence service offers to support his services. To launder the money, Stonehouse creates a network of interlocking shell companies, through which he invests in several legitimate businesses.
Unfortunately, the Labour MP’s investment instincts were appallingly bad. He was also so inept at spycraft that his Czechoslovakian masters eventually broke off all contact and ceased all payments. Unable to maintain his artificially high standard of living and facing police inquiries for his financial improprieties, Stonehouse hatched his notorious scheme to disappear, assuming the identity of a deceased constituent.
Comedic Performance
Arguably, Preston and series director Jon S. Baird try to present Stonehouse as a Frasier Crane-like character, who is supposed to inspire sympathetic cringes for the trouble he gets himself into.
However, most viewers will feel only for his long-suffering wife, Barbara (played by Macfadyen’s real-life wife, Keeley Hawes), and Harold Wilson, whose government is held hostage by Stonehouse when their majority drops to a single seat.
Frankly, Macfadyen’s performance should be considered comedic rather than dramatic, but it is quite entertaining. He makes viewers groan and grimace, but deliberately so.
On the other side of the spectrum, Hawes elevates Barbara Stonehouse above a mere scorned wife through the grounded dignity of her portrayal. It is not that she was completely fooled by her husband, but most of her suspicions were focused on his office assistant, accomplice, and mistress, Sheila Buckley, clearly for good reason.
Yet Kevin McNally is the cast member most likely to get awards consideration for his humanizing work as Wilson. More than any supportive biographer, “Stonehouse” burnishes Wilson’s image as a pragmatic leader of Labour’s “Soft Left,” a faction ideologically and strategically wedged between the party’s moderates and the hardline Trotskyite “Hard Left.”
Arguably, “Stonehouse” is not much of an espionage thriller, entirely due to Stonehouse’s own incompetence. However, it is a highly amusing true crime yarn and a wild political melodrama.
Watching Wilson cling to a majority resting entirely on the unstable Stonehouse becomes an absurdist farce worthy of the classic satirical sitcom “Yes Minister.” Compared to Wilson’s attempts to wrangle Stonehouse, Kevin McCarthy had a relatively easy time securing his Speakership election.
The craziest thing about the three episodes of “Stonehouse” is how closely they follow the documented record. The series is highly entertaining, but it is also a timely reminder that no matter how messy contemporary political scandals get, there are always precedents from past history.
Recommended with a fair degree of enthusiasm for political junkies and true crime binge-watchers, “Stonehouse” started streaming on Jan. 17 on BritBox.
