After fighting the American War of Independence, a British soldier comes back home, he then learns about his father’s death, his lost property and the matrimony of the women he adored to someone else. He then decides to have a new beginning for himself and starts to live in an Old town of Cornwall.
Poldark manages to ring the changes on an old favourite and yet, for all its widescreen flash and dash, stay true to the traditions of BBC period dramas the past.
Smartly cast, with a lot of familiar faces from this kind of thing, Poldark is also beautifully lit and photographed and has the bursts of occasional violence that will satisfy those who will otherwise be missing Game of Thrones.
With its intriguing cast of tortured souls and master manipulators, and the struggle of some between duty and desire, many equally fascinating stories are being told simultaneously.
Turner-best known as the improbably hot dwarf who romanced Evangeline Lilly in The Hobbit-smolders, the women in his life pine, and there's enough intrigue, plot twists, and back stabs to hook even the most devoted Shonda Rhimes fan.
Such is my addiction to this particular genre that I obviously snorted the entire thing. But, as a connoisseur of this junk, trust me when I say it gives a reduced high. It is too in love with Poldark.
