Why do women directors have a thing about slow pianos?

I did not know that this very poor version of Women in Love was directed by a woman, but the moment I heard the slow piano banging away I looked for the curtains blowing in the breeze. No curtains, but white sheets drying outside in the wind, and my fears were confirmed.

This was a truly awful mini series made by a woman with a sharp axe to grind who should never have been allowed near anything other than a porn film studio. Compared with the brilliant and unforgettable movie by Ken Russell, which still holds up after 50 years, this is a crude effort which uses far too much graphic sex to make up for the lack of drama and good storytelling. Russell was the enfant terrible who single handedly plunged the British cinema to new depths of bad taste, but the treatment by the maestro of excess was very restrained by comparison. There were no nude scenes, no instant grapplings in the woods with near strangers, and the nude wresting scene took place in the firelight.

Rupert and Gerald faded into the background and the two sisters were also miscast. Rachel Stirling would have made a stronger Gudrun. The actors were so weak I could have been watching the high school play. Overall, a weak adaptation attempting to be "arty", which bordered on porn for the frequency of the far too graphic sex scenes. Someone should tell the director that less is more, and especially when it comes to romance and sex.

If ever there was a justification for abolishing the BBC license fee, this was it!