Janespotting: Clueless

So about the same time the Austen film renaissance began in the mid-1990s appeared this teenage comedy from writer-director Amy Heckerling, starring Alicia Silverstone as a privileged California teen. Not all reviews acknowledged it (and it wasn't in the credits), but Heckerling freely admitted she stole liberally from the plot of Emma for her film. Standing in place of Emma is Cher: a pampered rich girl who is queen of her high school but is not interested in high school boys, whom she considers "dogs." She skates along on charm, wrapping her daddy around her finger, and when she can't get her cranky debate teacher to change her grade, she tries to fix him up with history teacher. With a little makeover from Cher, the ruse works, cheering her teacher and boosting her grade. Looking on with disapproval—and standing in for Mr. Knightley—is Cher's stepbrother Josh, a college student she calls "granola breath" who is always chastising her for her shallow selfishness.

Feeling cheered by her good deed in matching her teachers, Cher adopts the new girl/Harriet Smith-analog Tai, who is kinda grungy and attracted to a slacker student. Cher and her best friend make Tai over, then try  to set her up with classmate Elton, who admires a picture of Tai Cher has taken. As in the original, Elton is admiring the artist, not the subject, and when the three go to a party he engineers giving Cher a ride home, makes a move on her, then shows he is too snobby to be interested in Tai. After Cher ditches him, she gets robbed and has Josh come rescue her. Cher shows she has a bit of a brain by correcting Josh's obnoxious girlfriend, who is misquoting Hamlet.

The Frank Churchill role is filled by a new boy at school named Christian. He has a rat pack vibe and Cher is  interested in a date although it's clear to the audience he is gay. (This neatly avoids too many characters by cancelling the need for a Jane Fairfax analog.) They take Tai to a party with Josh's friends, where Josh dances with Tai because she looks lonely. Tai is rescued again while shopping with Cher, when Christian rescues her from some pranking boys. Tai's story makes her popular, to Cher's detriment, and things go downhill as Josh criticizes her again and she flunks her driving test.

Making things worse is Tai's request that Cher help her charm Josh, when Cher thought she wanted Christian. Being no demure Harriet, Tai calls Cher "a virgin who can't drive" when Cher hesitates and the two quarrel. Just as Emma suddenly discovered her feelings for Mr. Knightley, Cher has a sudden realization she wants to be with Josh. She doesn't know how to act around him, so she undertakes a "makeover for the soul" by organizing disaster relief. She also makes up with Tai and encourages her to pursue the slacker boy. The denouement travels far from Austen, as there's no question of Josh's Knightley-analog being in love with someone else. With all the bickering between the two, however, it's not clear he knows his own feelings, so instead Heckerling shows the two working on research for her dad's court case. When another lawyer chides Cher for screwing up, Josh comforts her and they confess their feelings—and we have a cute rom-com ending.

Although "Clueless" is built on the skeleton of Austen's plot for Emma, it's totally a typical teen comedy of the time. There is partying and drinking, an emphasis on brand names and fashion (even satirically so), and practically invisible adults. And yet, the dialogue is a cut above what you might expect from a teen comedy, with lots of big words; one character even comments, "Wow, you guys talk like grownups." The reply: "Well, this is a really good school."

As a teen comedy Clueless is fun—especially with Silverstone's charming portrayal of Cher—and maybe a little deeper than the usual raunchy teen flick. As an Austen adaptation, it's an interesting curiosity, showing how many of Austen's themes and even character types are timeless.

Janespotting: Emma (1996 film)

Among the cinematic Austen revival of the mid-1990s were two versions of Emma, both released in 1996. The first was released in theaters and was written and directed by American Douglas McGrath, who had previously written Bullets over Broadway with Woody Allen. It was also the first starring role for Gwyneth Paltrow, whose performance made many people wonder where this British actress had come from (America, it turns out).

At under two hours, there was quite a bit of condensing necessary. I found this version very well-paced, with the first half hour showing Emma's romantic machinations, all in a very playful manner. In one sequence, the director made several clever cuts, taking the subjects from one scene to another mid-sentence, quickly continuing the thought and the story. Of course, other events are combined or simplified. The gypsy attack happens to Harriet and Emma, rather than Harriet and a classmate we never see again, and the film combines the events of the strawberry party and the Box Hill outing. Finally, as Emma struggles with the news that Harriet believes Mr. Knightley cares for her, she discusses her feelings with Mrs. Weston, writes in her diary, and says a prayer for him "to at least stay single." These events aren't in the novel, but they dramatize Emma's change of heart very well and contribute to continued good pacing.

Neither was the screenplay slavish in reproducing Austen's dialogue. Although this meant no "If I loved you less I could talk about it more" line (sigh), there were quite a few witty gems in there. On our first encounter with Miss Bates, she tells Mr. Elton, "Your sermon on Daniel left us quite speechless, we could not stop talking about it!", encapsulating her character perfectly. And there are several amusing exchanges between Emma and Mr. Knightley; the scene where they argue about Harriet and Robert Martin takes place during an archery practice at Donwell Abbey. As Emma's aim gets worse during the argument, Mr. Knightley murmurs "try not to kill my dogs," with a fond smile.

I thought this version did a very good job of portraying the genuine affection between Emma and Mr. Knightley, as he is instructive and never angry, not even after Box Hill, when he sounds frustrated. Of course, that might be due to Jeremy Northam, who is yummy yummy dreamy and brings the right sense of brotherliness, exasperation, and playfulness to role. (Although I'm not sure Mr. Knightley should be so yummy yummy dreamy.)

Gwyneth Paltrow is pretty good as Emma, with the right mix of sincerity and brattiness and her emotions easy to read on her face—maybe a little too easy, though, as it wasn't a very subtle performance. Most of the minor characters are very good, with some stellar Brit actors: Alan Cumming has right mix of smarm and solicitousness as Mr. Elton, and Juliet Stevenson is perfect as tacky, imposing upstart Mrs. Elton. Sophie Thompson (sister of actress Emma) brings out the silly and the dignified in Miss Bates, and Ewan MacGregor gives Frank Churchill the right mix of vivacity and secrecy, although he has to act while wearing one of the nastiest wigs I have ever seen.

The one serious flaw in casting is in Toni Collette as Harriet Smith. While I think she's a wonderful actress, with her own quirky attractiveness, she doesn't match Austen's description at all: "She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with a fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great sweetness." Collette is not plump (her face is more angular), nor does she have regular features or light hair. Plus, she plays Harriet with a slight dippiness that makes Harriet completely overshadowed by Paltrow's elegant Emma. Harriet is supposed to be pretty and charming enough for Emma to think that men will overlook her dubious background, and in this case I didn't buy it.

Still, this version was fast-paced and witty enough for me to enjoy it very much. It got to the essential bits of the story, and for the most part kept my favorite parts from the book. If you only have a couple of hours to introduce yourself to Emma, this is a good place to start.

Janespotting: Mansfield Park (1999 film)

After the success of 1995's films of Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion and miniseries of Pride and Prejudice, and 1996's Emmas (TV and film), I'm sure someone thought it would be a great idea to delve into the rest of Austen's oeuvre. But what to choose? Northanger Abbey was full of all that weird Gothic stuff, so Mansfield Park was the only complete novel left. "Fanny Price is such a dreary character, though," I imagine the producers saying. "Not suited for our modern audience at all. Can we give her a little more zazz? Maybe sex it up a little bit?" Viewing the resulting 1999 film of Mansfield Park, I don't think that imaginary conversation is too off the mark.

The first clue as to the "zazzed" nature of this version is on the outside of the DVD box, where it gives the rating of PG-13. The second occurs less than two minutes into the opening credits, where it says the film is based on the novel Mansfield Park by Jane Austen and "on her journals and letters." The film opens with the juvenile Fanny Price telling a fanciful story to her younger sister Susan on the day she is to be taken to the Bertram family at Mansfield Park. After she arrives there and Mrs. Norris argues in front of Sir Thomas that she had not intended to keep Fanny at her home, Fanny tries to interject a comment before being shushed. In the next scenes that show Fanny growing up at Mansfield Park, we see her writing letters with clever observances to her sister Susan, reading aloud her writing to her cousin Edmund (including a short history of England similar to the one Austen herself wrote in her youth), and horsing around with Edmund to the extent that Sir Thomas has to reprimand her for her high spirits. Clearly, this is not Austen's Fanny Price, but a Fanny Price who more closely resembles Austen herself.

The plot moves along very similarly to the book; the few omissions (brother William Price, the outing to Sotherton) are less obnoxious than the total inversion of Fanny's character. (That's not to say that the omissions aren't obnoxious; we see so little of Henry Bertram interacting with Maria and Julia before Maria's marriage that we don't get a sense of how wrong his flirtations with them have been, something that supposedly undermines Fanny's later distrust of him.) We don't see Fanny refusing to participate in the play (we see little of the play anyway), because how could an aspiring novelist who names her horse Shakespeare so thoroughly revile another form of literature? When Sir Thomas returns from Antigua and declares that Fanny should have a ball in her honor, she runs from the room—and not because she is shy and uncomfortable of attention, but because she will not be displayed like a horse at market. Finally, when Fanny refuses Henry Crawford's offer of marriage, it immediately angers Sir Thomas, who threatens to send her to Portsmouth unless she complies, and Fanny defiantly replies, "I will not." This is quite a change from the book, where Sir Thomas tells her to her face that "You will have nothing to fear, or to be agitated about. You cannot suppose me capable of trying to persuade you to marry against your inclinations," and plans the trip to Portsmouth as time for her to enjoy William's company and perhaps reconsider Crawford's offer.

So now we have a forthright, defiant, proto-feminist Fanny in Portsmouth, where she receives further attentions from Crawford with some confusion. She claims she will not marry him, but after receiving a letter from Edmund in which he calls Mary Crawford "the only woman in the world whom I could ever think of as a wife," she changes her mind and accepts him. Then, after a sleepless night, she once again rejects Henry, infuriating him and sending him away and setting him up for Maria's clutches. While this incident is taken from Austen's own life—she entered into an engagement, only to change her mind the next morning—it is completely contrary to the steadfastness that is the chief essence of Fanny's character.

Despite her recalcitrant refusals, Fanny is called home to Mansfield to help nurse her cousin Tom back to health after he has been in a drunken accident. Here is where we get into the very un-Austenish PG-13 territory. First, Fanny runs across a series of drawings that Tom made while Antigua that are shocking in their depictions of slavery and slave conditions. (Apparently Tom is an artist, and while I find interesting this version's intimation that Tom's wild behavior is due to his guilt over what he has seen on the family plantation in Antigua, added to all the other crazy changes it's just too much.) Second, Henry Crawford is staying at the Park at the invitation of Sir Thomas, and one morning while up early to attend to Tom, Fanny runs across Henry making love—naked breasts and everything!—to the visiting Maria.

The end is close enough to the book: Mary Crawford reveals her shallowness, Edmund sends her away, and eventually makes a lovely declaration to Fanny. Of course, this was never in doubt, for unlike the book, this film makes frequent reference to Edmund's feelings for Fanny throughout. Very nice, but not enough to make up for all the trashing of the original plot and characters.

All these complaints are not to say that the movie wasn't good; the production values were excellent, and the acting was good overall. Frances O'Connor was charming as Jane Aust—I mean, Fanny Price, and Jonny Lee Miller made a suitable Edmund.* Most interesting was Harold Pinter—yes, that Harold Pinter, the playwright and Nobel Prize winner—as a very scary and stern Sir Thomas. It wasn't a bad film, but it wasn't a true Austen adaptation. Give it a different title—Fanny Price, maybe—and say "inspired by the works" of Austen, and I wouldn't get so up in arms. As it stands, though, I can understand those fans who consider this film a travesty unworthy of the name of Austen. If you loved the book, you'd probably be too shocked to enjoy this movie at all.

*Interesting trivia: Miller played a minor role as a Price brother in the 1983 MP at age 11, and would go on to play Mr. Knightley in the 2009 TV version of Emma. Also, the actress who played Maria played Henrietta Musgrove in an earlier Persuasion and Mrs. Forster in the P&P mini, and the actor who played Mr. Rushworth would later play Mr. Bennet in Lost in Austen. Stick around British television long enough, and you'll end up in multiple Austens, I guess.

Janespotting: Mansfield Park (1983 miniseries)

I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get my hands on this earliest adaptation of Mansfield Park, but I decided to give Netflix a try and see how many of these oldies I could get within the one-month trial membership. This BBC production is an extremely faithful version of Austen's novel, told over six one-hour episodes. With early 1980s production values, however, might not necessarily be a good thing.

The plot certainly didn't veer far from the original novel. We see Fanny introduced to Mansfield Park, her growing friendship with Edmund, and the changes wrought by the arrival of the Crawfords. All the little amusing details are there, including how Aunt Norris initiated Fanny's arrival but claimed she never intended to raise her herself; the ridiculousness of Maria's fiance Mr. Rushworth (and his 42 speeches); Fanny's return to Portsmouth and how she makes things quieter by buying her younger sister a pair of silver scissors. Unfortunately, all the tedious and boring details are there as well, but without the benefit of footnotes to explain for the viewer. Honestly, you'd think that the screenwriter transposing the scene where the young people discuss which parts they should portray in the drama Lover's Vow might intersperse one line here or there so that we understand what it means for Maria and Julia to battle over playing Agatha. There's nothing, though, so the five-minute discussion of a play few modern viewers know is tedious beyond belief. There are similar slow spots, not helped at all by the era's avoidance of musical scoring except in transitions.

Still, the scenery and costumes were fine, and the acting was uniformly good. I recognized few of the actors, most of whom have gone on to long careers in British television and film. (The one exception: the actress playing Maria Bertram, Samantha Bond, played Miss Moneypenny in the various Pierce Brosnan-starring James Bond films.) The actress playing Fanny, Sylvestra Le Touzel, might have been made up a little more plainly than I would have liked (Sir Thomas remarks on his return she is uncommonly improved), but she captured Fanny's quiet steadfastness. The actress playing Lady Bertram was a hoot, and the actor playing Edward was pleasant enough.

My main dissatisfaction with this version, aside from the slow spots, was in the romantic conclusion of the film. There it had to vary from the original, for as I wrote in my review, Austen shows nothing of Fanny and Edmund's declaration of their love for each other. She merely says that "he was very steadily earnest in the pursuit of the blessing [of her hand in marriage], and it was not possible that encouragement from her should be long wanting." Given that setup, why not show Edmund being steadily earnest, or Fanny "receiving the assurance of that affection of which she [had] scarcely allowed herself to entertain a hope." Nope. In a major change from the book, where Fanny and Edmund witness Mary Crawford's shocking nonchalance towards Maria's affair firsthand, Edmund instead tells Fanny of Mary's faulty moral understanding and tells her he is glad she is there to listen. Fanny replies that she shall always be there, and that's that. No declaration of feelings. No proposal. No fun!

So overall, a pleasant-enough version of the story, and a good object lesson on why it's sometimes good to deviate from the novel to write your script. This will not be the case for the next version I'll be reviewing, but you'll see more on that later.

Janespotting: Sense and Sensibility (1995 film)

I'm going to wrap up my survey of works inspired by Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility with the 1995 starring Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, Hugh Grant, Alan Rickman, and just about everybody who's anybody in British film. (As a fun aside, check out the number of actors common to this film and the Harry Potter films ... at least six, by my count.) In addition to starring as Elinor, Emma Thompson also wrote the screenplay, winning an Oscar and Golden Globe, among other awards, for her work. The film was nominated for the Best Picture Oscar (losing to Braveheart, really?), won the Golden Globe for best drama (take that, Mel!), and was generally beloved by critics and Austen devotees. I didn't really count myself as a devotee at the time, but the film set off a desire to seek out more of Austen's work, and I date my mini-obsession with Austen to seeing the film.

I think the film works even if you aren't a fan of Austen, or even period drama. Thompson cuts to the essentials, and they are very clear: the Dashwood women are left with little money and are dependent on others for a comfortable lifestyle. It would be nice if marriage could be for love, but it's not always possible. Thompson cuts out characters who don't reinforce this basic situation—the child-obsessed Lady Middleton and beau-obsessed Anne Steele, for instance—and we don't really miss them. She brings Austen's wit to the fore, and we see Fanny Dashwood's cheapness and social climbing. Best of all, she develops the dry wit of both Elinor and Edward; it makes them more interesting characters, and makes their romance really seem like a meeting of minds. When reserved Elinor can't control her emotions at the denouement ... well, I can't help but watching that scene a couple times over.

Although Elinor and Edward's romance provides the final conclusion, and that of Marianne and Willoughby supplies the passion and drama, the romantic hero of the film, at least in my eyes, is Colonel Brandon. That's entirely the fault of Alan Rickman, who could read the phone book and hold me transfixed. His Colonel Brandon is tender, agonized, resigned, hopeful—all with a few looks, some softly spoken words, and a shy smile when he is finally rewarded with true love. Every time Rickman is on screen I can't help but want more Brandon in the story.*

So overall, I have to consider this version of Sense and Sensibility to be one of the finest adaptations of Austen's work, as I think it actually improves some aspects of the original. Is it the best? Well, it's hard to argue against the faithfulness and completeness of the Pride & Prejudice miniseries ... so maybe it's the best film adaptation ever. I will have to reserve judgement on that, however, until I revisit the excellent film version of Persuasion.... And that will have to wait until later this year. This will be the last Janespotting entry for a while; I'm devoting my summer to my remedial lit project. Coming not too far in the future, I hope, will be a review of Dante's Inferno.

*It makes me really anticipate Rickman's work in the final Harry Potter films, to see him show Snape's tragic history. I also should get a copy of the 1990 supernatural romance Truly, Madly, Deeply, in which Rickman has a wonderful leading man role, as well as an unfortunate mustache; if you haven't seen it, you should.

Janespotting: Pride and Prejudice (2005 film)

Here, to get you in the mood, play this and listen while you're reading (no need to watch it, just listen):


Before leaving P&P variations behind for a while, I thought I would refresh myself with the most recent film adaptation of Austen's classic. This version came out in 2005 and earned Keira Knightley an Oscar nomination for her portrayal of Elizabeth Bennet. It also has Brenda Blethyn and Donald Sutherland as Elizabeth's parents, and the inestimable Dame Judi Dench as Lady Catherine de Bourgh. It has to condense much of the novel in order to fit into the feature-film length of just over two hours; strangely enough, it is the first feature film to attempt a faithful adaptation of the book. (I can't consider the 1940 version as "faithful," and all the other versions have been television productions.)

I know many purists despise this version of P&P: not only have many characters and scenes been cut out, but director Joe Wright opted to emphasize the "country" part of the Bennets' country home, with livestock wandering through the mud in the yard of this gentleman's estate. I saw this in the theater with a good friend who is also an Austenophile, and she fell asleep halfway through. And of course, many fans add, how could anyone hope to match Colin Firth's definitive portrayal of Mr. Darcy?

Well, I'm not hung up on purity, and Matthew Macfadyen does a creditable job as Mr. Darcy in the two hours given to the story. He's handsome and brooding, of course, and while he doesn't get much time to explore the depths of the character, you can see the pain in his eyes after Elizabeth rejects him. And yes, many of the other characters have been relegated to the background—we don't get to see Mr. Darcy's cutting rejoinders to Caroline Bingley's snarky remarks—but as a result the film is tightly focused on Darcy and especially Elizabeth. It's Keira Knightley's film; this was her first time headlining a movie, although in the two years leading up to P&P she had appeared in films with a total worldwide box office of over $1 billion.

Now, you might think it risky to rest a major motion picture on the shoulders of a 20-year-old actress, but Knightley (good Austenish name!) was actually the first actress to actually be the same age as the character. The star of the 1995 miniseries, Jennifer Ehle, was 26, while the lead of the 1940 film, Greer Garson, was actually 36! Both these actresses make Lizzy a confident, witty, mature woman who is an equal foil to Darcy. While this makes for a very appealing Lizzy, it doesn't cover all aspects of the character. After reading Mr. Darcy's letter and learning the truth of Wickham's past, Elizabeth has this reaction: "She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd"; she then says, "Till this moment I never knew myself" (Vol. II, Chap. 13).

This is what I find fascinating about Knightley's performance in the role: the sense that Elizabeth has just as much of an emotional journey to make as Darcy does. In the book, we see Darcy's change through his behavior, but Elizabeth's changes are more subtle, affecting her sense of self and her attitude toward Darcy. These aren't the easiest things to show on film, but through closeups on Knightley's expressive face, we see this side of Elizabeth: with her wit and self-confidence undermined by the discovery that she has more to learn about the world, she reconsiders what she knows about herself and her feelings about love. It makes for a very big-R Romantic movie.

So I enjoyed this version of Austen's classic; it may not be as complex and detailed as the miniseries, but it has its own unique angle. (I found Blethyn & Sutherland's interpretation of the Bennets' marriage interesting as well, going beyond caricature.) In addition, it has some interesting direction with really wonderful cinematography. (I know, a sunrise proposal isn't proper, but it's so beautiful!) Adding to the atmosphere is the wonderful, Oscar-nominated score by Dario Marianelli (who would win the Oscar for his next film with Knightley and director Joe Wright, 2008's Atonement). If you played the embedded video at the top of this entry, you've heard the recurring theme on piano that is just lovely; in other parts it is rendered by a chamber orchestra, sounding entirely appropriate to the era. All in all, I've enjoyed watching (and rewatching) this version of P&P. But next week (finally!): I move on to Sense and Sensibility.

Janespotting: Bridget Jones's Diary

I'm continuing my romp through Austen-inspired works with this popular book and film. If you're not a huge Austen fan and only casually read this seminal chick lit novel of the '90s, you might not realize that Helen Fielding drew much of her inspiration from Austen's Pride and Prejudice. (Actually, I think the actual quote from her is "I stole Austen's plot.") As you'd expect from the title, the novel recounts one year in the life of British thirtysomething Bridget Jones through her various diary entries. She fights a constant battle against her weight, her cigarette addiction, her desire for a decent boyfriend, and the expectations of her parents and all the Smug Married people around her.

The novel opens in January, with Bridget's parents trying to fix her up at a family party with a divorcee named Mark Darcy. She finds him dreadful and boring at first, but we can tell from his name (Mr. Darcy!) that he'll turn out to be perfect for her. In the meantime, Bridget gets involved with her boss, gets dumped by her boss, switches jobs, and deals with disasters big and small along the way. Her relationship with Mr. Darcy doesn't progress very far, until her mother gets involved with a shady timeshare scheme and Mark steps in to save the day.

With its no-holds-barred, even raunchy, exploration of Bridget's thoughts and feelings—her obsessing over weight and sex and relationships—you wouldn't think this had much to do with Austen besides a few superficial name and plot similarities. But I think it's a very good tribute; a translation, if you will, to modern sensibilities. After all, at heart each book asks its protagonist the same question: when are you going to get married? who will make you happy? In both cases, the answer involves looking past first impressions.

I wanted to add a bit about the 2001 film adaptation, which is one of my favorite film comedies ever. First of all, they managed the delicious irony of getting Colin Firth (see P&P 1995 miniseries) to play Mark Darcy. Then they cast Hugh Grant against type as Bridget's boss Daniel, the caddish Wickham analogue (and he's brilliant). They removed the subplot where Bridget's mother has possibly defrauded her neighbors, so there's no parallel to Lydia's scandal, but in its place they greatly enlarged the Mark Darcy/Daniel Cleaver backstory, making a greater parallel to the Mr. Darcy/Mr. Wickham subplot. Since this gave Colin Firth a great deal more screentime than Mark Darcy got in the book (he appears only briefly until the last two or three chapters), it was an excellent exchange, in my opinion. Add the bonus of actors with posh British accents saying cusswords—something guaranteed to make me giggle—and you've got a film that actually improves on the original book, at least in my opinion. If you're at all a fan of romantic comedies, this one is essential.

Janespotting: Pride and Prejudice (1940 film)

I was curious what I would see in this first film adaptation of Austen's classic. Two things piqued my interest: Laurence Olivier starring as Mr. Darcy, and a screenplay co-written by Aldous Huxley, author of the classic dystopia Brave New World. On the other hand, it was produced in 1940 by MGM, home of big technicolor spectacles and noted for their star system. They had originally wanted Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh to rekindle their magic from Gone with the Wind, but Gable turned down the part because he felt he wasn't suited to it. When Olivier stepped in, MGM replaced Leigh with Greer Garson, feeling that the married Olivier's affair with Leigh might produce bad publicity for the film (although they later divorced others to marry each other). So, two future Oscar-winners as Lizzy and Darcy, and an iconoclastic intellectual as co-screenwriter. Might this be a good film adaptation?

After viewing the film, my answer has to be: yes and no. Is it a good film? Well, the acting is well done. The story is has a quick pace. The set direction won an Oscar, and the music is charming. The costumes—well, it was a little bit of a shock to see Civil War-style hoop gowns and huge hats, but MGM was being economical by reusing frocks from Gone with the Wind. Greer Garson brings wit and charm to her Lizzy, and Olivier is brooding and handsome enough as Darcy. The supporting players are passable, and if you wanted a lighthearted romantic romp, this might do very nicely.

Ah, but is it a good adaptation? Sadly, I have to report the answer is, "Hell, no." Now, I'm no purist; I'm not one to complain just because a scene or character has been cut. And quite a bit of material is cut in this version of P&P, mainly Darcy's letter explaining his behavior and the whole section where Lizzy visits Darcy's estate and begins to fall in love with him. In this version, Darcy proposes while Lizzy is visiting the Collinses; she refuses him; and immediately upon her return home, she discovers her sister Lydia's disgrace. Only then does Darcy reveal his true association with Lydia's seducer Wickham to Lizzy, and immediately after he leaves, Lizzy decides, "Oh! I was actually in love with him all along!"

Urg. As I mentioned in my analysis of the original book, for me the appeal of P&P lies in the way the lead characters (especially Mr. Darcy) grow and change. Through Darcy's letter, Lizzy realizes her prejudice has led her astray, and her rejection of Darcy leads him to amend his proud ways. In this film, though, we don't see Lizzy agonize over her mistake, and we don't see Darcy try to make amends for his earlier behavior. Worst of all is what they do with Lady Catherine's character. In the book, she is against the relationship between her nephew and Lizzy, and threatens to stop it. In this film, she only pretends to object, in order to assess Lizzy's true feelings, and in fact brings them together, telling Darcy "she is the kind of woman you need." Oh, and she does this at the same moment that disgraced Lydia and her new shotgun husband arrive at Longbourn, in the kind of full-cast drawing-room scene that demonstrates this version's genesis in a stage adaptation.

After that, it's all downhill. We see Mary and Kitty with their own suitors, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet happily assessing the marital prospects of their brood. It's all very cheerful and neat and completely lacking in interesting emotional complexity. In other words, a typical romance film of the time. If I had seen this and thought it represented Austen's work, I could have been excused for thinking I didn't need to read any further.

Happily, though, I have other adaptations to consider. And next week, I shall go with the pinnacle, the epitome, the ultimate of all Austen adaptations: the 1995 BBC miniseries starring Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth.

La Règle du jeu: The Official Haiku Review

This fall, I'm working my way down the Sight and Sound critics' poll of the top 10 films of all time. Earlier this month, I saw Battleship Potemkin, the silent classic that comes in at #7. I've already seen the films voted #1 and #2, Citizen Kane and Vertigo. So I proceeded to film #3, the 1939 French film La Règle du jeu (The Rules of the Game), directed by Jean Renoir. (Yes, he was related to the Impressionist painter Renoir—his second son.) And here is my Official Haiku Review:

Lie and cheat? Fine, but
You can't hide in the background.
Tragic truths will out.

At first the film seems to be a comedy of manners, as a hunting party in the country reveals changing relationships between husbands, wives, and lovers. Yet the party ends in a tragedy, one that seems inevitable given the degree of cheating and lying taking place, both among the bourgeoisie and their servants. It seems to take a very French attitude towards infidelity—it's accepted, as long as you follow society's rules and do it with delicacy and "class." At first, the characters' contravention of the rules brings about farce, but then it ends in murder. When you contrast the long hunting scene (which is definitely not Humane Society approved) with the murder at the end, it seems clear that Renoir (who also wrote the script) is indicting a society that permits dishonesty as long as it wears a pretty face.

Renoir's use of long shots, allowing the viewer a glimpse of events in the background, reinforces his themes. Often while a character is speaking, behind him we see others contradict his words with their behavior. It was a novel technique for the time, and one reason the film is considered a classic. (Sight and Sound's directors' poll also includes it in their top 10.) But the film was a flop when it premiered in 1939. Renoir filmed The Rules of the Game as Europe was spiralling into war, so perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised that French audiences didn't want to see a satire of their values. They booed and threw things at the screen, and Renoir ended up cutting many scenes in an attempt to salvage the work. It didn't work, and he ended up fleeing the Nazi occupation a year later. It was only in 1959, while Renoir was living in Hollywood, that the film was restored to something close to his original intent.

I think this is one of those films that requires a second viewing to catch some of the technical tricks Renoir employed. I did find the ending tragic, a somewhat jarring contrast to the lighter tone of the beginning. It's an interesting film, enjoyable enough for a black-and-white work with subtitles. If you wanted to watch something very similar but much more accessible, I would recommend Robert Altman's very excellent 2001 film, Gosford Park.

Battleship Potemkin: The Official Haiku Review

As I mentioned in my last Haiku Review, I was going to put my Remedial Literature Project aside in favor of a course of film study. For one, it takes less time to watch a movie than read a book. And I have to admit that there are quite a few classic movies I've never seen, although I consider myself a film buff. At first, I considered going with the American Film Institute's list of top 100 movies. After all, I looked at their top 10:

1. Citizen Kane (1941)
2. The Godfather (1972)
3. Casablanca (1942)
4. Raging Bull (1980)
5. Singin' in the Rain (1952)
6. Gone with the Wind (1939)
7. Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
8. Schindler's List (1993)
9. Vertigo (1958)
10. The Wizard of Oz (1939)

and saw that I'd missed at least three of them.* But the AFI's list covers only American movies, and has an emphasis on "cultural significance" (ie, popularity) that means that they included a film like Forrest Gump, which I consider more gimmick than story, in their top 100. Blech. Besides, I wanted to include foreign films, because as I was browsing through music videos to put in my blog last month, I saw one that was inspired by Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal, which I've never seen. I've never seen any Bergman film, for that matter. Or one by Kurosawa. Or Renoir. Or Fellini ... You get the idea. I've heard of them, seen clips (enough to know when a music video is inspired by a director), but never sat through one of their films.

Then I saw that Ann Arbor's Michigan Theater was showing the 1925 silent film Battleship Potemkin, complete with live organ accompaniment. I've always wanted to see a silent film with live accompaniment, and Battleship Potemkin has ranked in every Sight & Sound critics' all-time top-ten poll since 1952.** The family was game, so we toodled off to Ann Arbor over the weekend. Here is my Official Haiku Review:

The collective whole
Exceeds the sum of its parts—
So the film frames say

Now at heart Battleship Potemkin is a propaganda film, designed to inspire socialist revolution by telling the story of a 1905 naval mutiny. It is also, however, a groundbreaking work for its use of editing and montage cuts. The director, Sergei Eisenstein, believed he could heighten the viewer's emotional reaction by switching between shots of different kinds (a closeup of a face, say, then a long shot of troops, then another closeup of a face, this time with glasses pierced by a bullet). This works to great effect in the Odessa steps sequence, where he shows Tsarist troops massacring the local people, who are rallying in support of the Potemkin. (There are literally thousands of extras in this sequence. Must be nice to have government support of your art.) The scene where a baby goes careening down the steps after his mother is murdered and knocks his carriage over has been imitated countless times.

Watching this film over 80 years after it was made, I could see how could inspire emotions in its viewers. First of all, when you watch a silent film, you really have to watch the film. No looking away, or you might miss something and not be able to figure out what's going on. The use of live music also enhanced the experience; Michigan Theater's organist did a fabulous job of performing the score (over an hour straight with no break!), using martial themes and even sound effects to support the images. So I could see why the film was censored and even banned in many places (even as late as the 1970s).

Still, it is clearly a propaganda film. Every character was clearly black or white (or Red), with no shades of grey. The film ends on a high note which felt false to me as a modern viewer. (The Potemkin was allowed to pass through the Russian fleet without incident, which really happened; later, however, the crew was forced to abandon the ship and was returned to Russia for prosecution.) So as an audio-visual experience, the film worked very well; as story, not so much. Still, now I can stick my nose in the air and say I've actually seen this very important and influential foreign film.

* Bonus if you can guess which three. It could be four, but I can't remember if I've actually seen Singin' in the Rain, or just parts of it.
** The S&S poll, sponsored by the British Film Institute, is widely recognized as the most authoritative in the world. At least Roger Ebert says so, and who am I to argue with the original thumbs' up(TM) guy?