As Franklin, Douglas is an entertaining and amusing figure; He balances the real Franklin's presumed historical wit with a decidedly Douglasian glint in his eye. He is Temple's grandfather, but no less hedonistic than someone like Gordon Gekko: he plays Franklin as if one of his erotic thriller protagonists from “Basic Instinct” or “Fatal Attraction” had been transported back in time and given a powdered wig He is a wrinkled man, but no less loving for his advanced years, the kind of aging playboy who fits in nicely with the pre-French Revolution decadence around him. Douglas handles the dry wit of Ellis and Korder's script with an agility that belies his age, even as Franklin's own health threatens to leave him bedridden for much of the final stages.
While he plays well against his co-stars, especially his fatherly Temple guide of Jupe, he comes more to life when he attacks Adams, who appears mid-series as if he were Nick Fury about to involve Ben in the Human Initiative. Founders. Marsan's energy as Adams is decidedly different from Giamatti's in Ellis's original 2008 miniseries: “Franklin” feels like an extension of that series' third episode, which depicted a more truncated version of these events, but no less welcome. It's a haughtier, more confrontational balm for the frivolity of Franklin, a young statesman who hasn't yet figured out how to play the game. (Her private attempts at him to speak and memorize French are some of the show's funniest moments.)
The show stumbles most when it focuses on Temple, although Jupe plays the role with admirable youthful courage. As Franklin struggles to carve out a legacy in his later years, Temple comes of age and loses herself in the frivolity and bustle of French life. He falls in love with an opera singer, gets involved in love triangles, and even finds a job as a page sending letters speeding around Paris. While these subplots could make for a spectacle on their own, they pale in comparison to the heavier statecraft of Douglas' sections; In a show that's already over eight hours long, they often feel like distractions and don't contrast enough with Ben Franklin's more sophisticated statecraft to be worth the running time.
