Image courtesy of BBC.

Shoshana Kessler sings the praises of the BBC's new First World War tale of love and the trenches.

An adaptation of Sebastian Faulks' incredibly popular book Birdsong has been long awaited; whispers of films and television editions have been milling around since the book emerged almost twenty years ago. It’s fair to say, then, that expectations were high for this two-part series.

We are greeted with a scene of war destruction and a close up on a handsome Lieutenant, staring blankly into the abyss. Cut to six years previously, and the Lieutenant appears again; younger, happier. He is introduced as Stephen Wraysford (Eddie Redmayne) visiting factory owner Rene Azaire (Laurent Lafitte) on business.

The episode flashes back and forth in this manner. Though the book is set out chronologically, it is clear to see why this method is used. The story and script are incredibly slow paced, consisting of many lustful, lingering stares, emotive lip twitches and poignant, subtle gestures. The juxtaposing of war scenes and the idyllic past provides at least some sharpness to maintain interest, whilst (it seems) nothing is really happening.

The manner in which Birdsong is shot is incredibly elegant, and aesthetically it is an extremely pleasing watch. However, it lacks that gritty realism one feels that a war tale, particularly one set in the First World War needs. The scenes are grizzly and morbid, but bar one shell blast wound and a small meeting with Germans in a tunnel, we do not feel the scope and horror of the war (however, this could easily be rectified in the next episode). In reality, we sit through a somewhat slow, if attractive, hour, and are rewarded for our efforts with a cataclysmic thirty minutes in which we see the lustful protagonists finally get on with it in a passionate love scene, wartime Stephen being shot and ostensibly left for dead, and a side story in which Isabelle’s step-daughter tries it on with Stephen, to unsurprisingly awkward results.

Yet, we don't feel an automatic closeness to the characters. Even when Isabelle and Stephen run away it doesn't feel joyous. This might be because we already know that their relationship is doomed to fail, as Stephen, in conversation with Captain Weir, refers to Isabelle as someone he ‘used’ to know. Or perhaps the lack of closeness emerges because Stephen is not effortlessly likable; his dealings with Firebrace at first seem of an almost sociopathical nature. He is the ultimate portrayal of the cold, antiquated British Officer, characterised by his ‘stiff upper lip’, and other than very brief glimpses into his emotions, it is not easy to understand him or his actions.

Birdsong is not an easy watch; one has to pay close attention and could easily feel unrewarded with the slow speech and long pauses. And yet, there is something wonderful about it. Its skilled actors create characters which are both intriguing and enigmatic and, in combination with the beautiful production, make a truly addictive programme.

Birdsong shows on BBC 1 on Sundays at 9pm.