'Stonehouse' Revels In The Wacko Narcissism of John Stonehouse

'Stonehouse' Revels In The Wacko Narcissism of John Stonehouse

The British House of Commons observes so many weird, archaic traditions and rituals it’s no surprise that its institutions have been internalized by many Members of Parliament to cause some properly bizarre behavior. Enter John Stonehouse, Postmaster General in Harold Wilson’s late-60s cabinet, and a thoroughly odd man. In 1974, thanks to “creative accounting” (read: fraud) and alleged links to Czechoslovakian military intelligence, he decided to upend his whole life, fake his death in Florida, and live out the rest of his days under an assumed alias in Australia with his mistress (who was also his secretary).

Stonehouse, the new miniseries about Stonehouse’s crimes, gets a lot of joy from painting Stonehouse as a thoroughly odd man. He’s brought to life by Matthew Macfadyen, who could do this type of performance in his sleep – he’s faultless as a bassy buffoon with a treasure trove of ticks and insecurities. Stonehouse probably wouldn’t exist were it not for Russell T Davies’ A Very English Scandal, which also told a story of sex and scandal unfolding behind parliamentary closed doors (Stonehouse’s screenwriter John Preston penned the book Davies based his series on).

A Very English Scandal was a monumental success, proving an appetite for celebrities as memorable figures from recent-ish British history; its direct successor, A Very British Scandal, was about Margaret Campbell’s public divorce. Stonehouse also isn’t Macfadyen’s first “Brit Scandal” three-episode miniseries; he starred as Charles Ingram in Quiz, the dramatization of 2001’s Who Wants To Be A Millionaire fraud. These shows share ripped-from-the-headlines notoriety and the same poppy, playful riff on class dynamics, filled with neurotic failures and racy in a digestible primetime fashion. Every single one features scenes of sheepish but determined characters pushing through crowds of British press shouting questions and flashing bulbs. The point is by the time we jump into John Stonehouse’s story, the whole affair feels a little flat.