Lesbian love gets sublime in 'Velvet'

A reader complained earlier this week that while "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" had been a good series, the show's producers blew it on the topic of lesbian love.

"They opted to end in the cliché of stereotypical 'girl-on-girl action' for the boys," she wrote. "A tongue stud and sex between two women was played up for sweeps, but the relationship was left on the cutting-room floor."

Amen. American television fails dismally in its usual depictions of homosexual romance. It's either characterless porn along the lines of Showtime's "Queer As Folk," or the all-mouth-and-no-trousers goofiness of "Will & Grace" and the late "Ellen."

But then, TV's treatment of heterosexual amour isn't much different. To watch a hundred scenes of prime-time wooing is to conclude that the integration of physical passion and emotional passion is either too difficult for producers or too threatening to viewers.

Luckily for everyone who's ever dealt with sexual identity — and who hasn't? — our British cousins are not so coy.

Tonight, tomorrow and Sunday at 7 p.m., BBC America presents the lush, intelligent and delicately bold miniseries "Tipping the Velvet."

Based on Sarah Waters' novel about lesbian love in Victorian England and adapted to the screen by Andrew Davies ("Pride and Prejudice," "Bridget Jones's Diary"), this is the sort of production that makes people say, "Thank God for the BBC." It's flat-out sublime.

The three-hour series stars exquisite newcomer Rachael Stirling as Nan Astley, the oyster girl whose choices launch her through a series of sexual adventures that would humble Moll Flanders.

En route, the script and direction broaden what could have been the narrow subject of Sapphic love into a universally recognizable journey. "Tipping the Velvet" transcends gender preference to concentrate on the emotional evolution that, as much as biological wiring, affects our decisions.

So it goes that 18-year-old Nan's familiar first act is to fall headlong for a visiting musical actress. Played by the marvelously subtle Keeley Hawes ("Wives and Daughters"), Kitty Butler is the sophisticate who awakens poor Nan.

"Open an oyster and it's like a secret world," Nan says. "And that's how it was with me."

The tension that Hawes and Stirling establish is a tantalizing delight. As Nan prepares to leave after their first meeting, Kitty takes her hand and peels back the glove to kiss her fingers. "You smell" — she continues as a stammering Nan protests — "like a mermaid."

Nan soon is beset by those familiar demons of early love, raging desire and thick-headed possessiveness. Kitty holds her at arms' length, but the two eventually become lovers. Nan even joins Kitty's singing drag act.

This isn't as tawdry as it sounds. Cross-dressing entertained not only swells, but middle- and working-class English families in the late 19th century. Its loaded meaning was not belabored until our self-conscious modern times.

"Tipping the Velvet" deftly guides viewers into the worlds of show business and gay relationships. That they were commingled is no surprise; the revelations arrive as we learn about this supposedly repressed era's multivaried sexuality.

Nan's relationship with Kitty ends abruptly when Nan discovers her lover in bed with their manager, Walter Bliss (John Bowe). Worse, Kitty and Walter are to be married.

Stirling calls on previously hidden acting reserves to shake the room with her reaction. It's the first indication of a powerful, nuanced performance that puts Stirling on a level with her famous mother, Diana Rigg.

Nan soon embarks on a sexual odyssey in the mold of such up-and-down classics as "Tom Jones," "Joseph Andrews" and of course, "Fanny Hill," though she possesses greater soul.

She hits the streets in men's clothes and inadvertently joins the world of homosexual male prostitution. An attempted date with a nice young woman named Florence (Jodhi May) ends badly when Nan can't explain how she earns money.

Nan soon is taken up by an imperious woman with very particular tastes. Her name is Diana Lethaby (Anna Chancellor); the last name said aloud is a big fat Dickensian clue.

But Nan never forgets Kitty, and chafes at her luxurious captivity. Her stint as debauched house pet ends badly — and our girl must once again hit the road.

It's not too revealing, however, to state that Nan's story has an ending as romantic as the moment in "Casablanca" when Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman lock eyes and cast their futures.

Executed throughout with sensitivity and taste, "Tipping the Velvet" handles its intimate scenes with more restraint than the average American made-for-TV movie. For all that, it is a far more stirring and potent affair.

Kay McFadden: kmcfadden@seattletimes.com