Finding Grace in "All Creatures Great and Small"

The newest adaptation of James Herriot's classic novel makes for great comfort viewing, even as it also contains its own thematic richness.

Every so often, you stumble on a show that transports you out of the humdrum routine of everyday reality and into another world, one of grace and kindness and joy. All Creatures Great and Small, the newest adaptation of the novel of the same name by James Herriot, is just such a show. On the surface, it is fairly innocuous fare, focusing as it does on the (mis)adventures of the young veterinarian James Herriot as he begins practicing animal medicine in the Yorkshire Dales, where he’s employed by the eccentric and at times stiff-necked Siegfried Farnon. They are soon joined by Siegfried’s younger brother Tristan, a young man far more invested in having a pint or in chasing the local women. It has been warmly received in the US, with many critics praising the fact that it is “soothing” (in the words of Linda Holmes of NPR) and “balm to the pandemic-addled soul” (as Claire Spellburg Lustig of Primetimer puts it). 

Beneath the surface, however, there is quite a lot of richness to this story. Indeed, it’s the sort of drama that reminds you that there is such a thing as grace, and that it can often be found in our relationships with one another and with the animal and natural world. 

To begin with, there’s the cinematography. As with the previous adaptation of Herriot’s works, this one was filmed in and around the Dales, so we get an immediate sense of place. The camera frequently swoops around, showing us James, Tristan, or Siegfried driving along the winding country roads while the rich landscape unfolds around them. Aesthetically, I was reminded of Downton Abbey, which has a similar attachment to place (and a similar method of conveying it). 

To some, the series’ narrative stakes might seem rather small, focusing as they often do on the foibles of various local folk and their struggles. To be sure, some of the series’ vignettes are droll and humorous, most notably Mrs. Pumphrey and her overindulged Pekingese Tricki Woo. Just as often, however, the stakes are significantly higher, especially when the case has to do with livestock. Take, for example, one of the key dramas in the first season, which involves a bull belonging to the Alderson family. By the middle of the season, it’s clear that there is an attraction between the eldest daughter, Helen, and James, and so he faces a bit of a moral quandary when it becomes clear that the bull might in fact be lame. Ultimately, he has no choice but to be honest about its health, even though doing so might jeopardize his relationship with Helen, and the bull is ultimately sent to the butcher.  

Some viewers, particularly those who don’t come from a rural background, are probably able to take the drama at face value and keep moving on. Yes, it’s tragic that the bull has to be sent to the knackers, but that’s just what you expect from a series about a vet in 1930s England. If you’ve ever been part of a farming family, however, you know that a single animal–particularly a prize-winning bull–can spell the difference between financial security and ruin. Thus, I can’t help but bristle a little when I hear critics pronounce that the stakes in this series aren’t especially high; for farmers, the stakes are very high, indeed. 

This is even true of Mrs. Pumphrey and Tricki. While most of the first and second season paint the dynamic between owner and pet in a ridiculous light, the 2021 Christmas special sees events take a rather sinister turn, as the darling Pekignese has an infection that might cost him his life. The scene in which the redoubtable old lady shares what might well be a last moment with her beloved pet is one that will surely resonate with anyone who has ever had to say goodbye to an animal companion. It’s clear that, for Mrs. Pumphrey, the possibility of having to let him go is more than sad; it’s truly devastating. Though he is, of course, saved from the jaws of death, it’s a close call, and it shows just how crucial James has become to this community and how his commitment to the well-being of his patients is his own special gift. 

As important as the animals and their ailments are, however, there’s no question that it is the humans who often occupy the center of the story, and the romance between James and Helen is arguably the series’ narrative core. It’s not very often that I find myself especially invested in a straight romance, no matter how artful or heartfelt it might be. With All Things, however, I did find myself cheering for these two people, both of whom manage to be exactly what the other needs at this pivotal moment. Though they do hit a few rough spots in their relationship, they repeatedly show that they are able to offer the other grace, even when it’s difficult.

Indeed, grace is the motivating ethos of All Creatures Great and Small. It’s there in the way that James always tries to do the right thing, even though it sometimes means having to ease an animal’s suffering. It’s there when he tearfully thanks his parents for their sacrifices that have allowed him to build a career and a life as a vet. It’s there when James, Tristan, Siegfried, and the others show up spend Christmas Day with Mrs. Pumphrey. Time and again, we see the powerful bonds that exist in this rural community, and it makes the heart sing. 

I’m one of those people who constantly looks for joy, and there’s more than a little of that in All Creatures Great and Small. It’s the kind of series that reminds you that there is a lot of good in this world, that there are in fact people who genuinely care about one another and about the animals that come under their care. Though grief and loss are a key part of life, there are also beauty and light and, most importantly of all, grace.