Brief comments on the 2005 Pride and Prejudice

 

As fans were celebrating the 20th anniversary of the film, I thought why not revisit it? So I did. And I didn’t like it, though visually it is beautiful. 

Let me explain why. 

First of all, at two hours, the film feels a bit rushed. This is a common complaint, I know—certain things get cut, certain characters are underdeveloped, the film cannot have the complexity of the novel—but I can’t help noticing that the 2005 Pride and Prejudice emphasises the attraction and romance and neglects the prejudice, and the development of the relationship between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy. Some of it is because the Mr Wickham plot is barely there—there is not much space between the introduction of Mr Wickham and the reveal of his character (Elizabeth doesn’t have much time to like Mr Wickham for the revelation to be a blow either). The film also reduces the ridiculousness of Mrs Bennet, and the wit and irresponsibility of Mr Bennet.

Another problem is that Matthew Macfadyen is not very good as Mr Darcy. Keira Knightley is good as Elizabeth Bennet (much better than her own performance as Anna Karenina) and I can see why her Lizzie is so beloved, but Matthew Macfadyen is more or less inexpressive for the entire film. Colin Firth is so popular as Mr Darcy not because he’s hot (though that helps), but because he conveys so well the pride, the awkwardness, the struggle between his own passion and his distaste for Elizabeth’s embarrassing family, and above all, because he depicts the change, the development of Mr Darcy. As a character, Mr Darcy unfolds rather than changes, but he does adjust his manners—because of Elizabeth’s “lectures”, he learns to open up, and learns to speak to strangers with more warmth and friendliness. I saw that in Colin Firth’s performance; I didn’t really see it in Matthew Macfadyen’s. 

There are other irritations. Certain lines seem wrong (Mr Darcy says “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love… I love… I love you”—really?). Certain actions seem out of character. Would Elizabeth join with others in eavesdropping on her parents, or on her sister? And then burst in on them? Would she remain in Pemberley, knowing that Georgina is there, then watch her behind the door only to suddenly find Mr Darcy and run away like a rude intruder? Would Elizabeth snatch a letter from her father’s hand? 

I would also add, though some of you may find it petty, that after the clearly-spoken BBC adaptations I recently saw, I couldn’t help noticing that a few times in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice, the dialogue was almost drowned out by music, or other noises (such as the sound of rain). 

The main strengths of the film are the cinematography, Keira Knightley’s performance (I did like her witty, amused look), and the bond of the sisters, especially between Elizabeth and Jane. 

But as a whole, the 1995 series handles much better the characters and their relationships.

Now did you know that there’re currently two Pride and Prejudice series in the works? One is a six-part series, made by Netflix, with Emma Corrin and Jack Lowden in the main roles. The other is a ten-part adaptation of The Other Bennet Sister, a spin-off focusing on Mary Bennet (the Bennet sister nobody likes). Not hard to tell that both would be travesties.

Brief thoughts on the 1983 Mansfield Park

The chief strength of this series is the script—this is an adaptation made by people who understand the novel and take it seriously and get the tone right—I think anyone who, like me, loves Mansfield Park would think that it’s in many ways a better effort than some recent adaptations. I have often complained that Mansfield Park fares less well on the screen than other Jane Austen novels because people often want Fanny Price to be something other than she is, and modern filmmakers, clearly thinking they’re “improving” on the book, change her, modernise her, make her more “fun”. I have never understood it. Do we not have enough girlbosses? The 1999 film is a travesty and the 2007 film I don’t even bother to watch—just look at the casting of Billie Piper in the role. Here in the 1983 series, there’s no modernisation, no condescension. Fanny Price is quiet, unimposing, unassertive, but perceptive, self-reliant, firm, and she has a different kind of strength. 

There is also a strong cast, especially Bernard Hepton as Sir Thomas, Anna Massey as Mrs Norris, and Jonathan Stephens as Mr Rushworth. 

Unfortunately, I cannot praise it the way I have praised the 1972 War and Peace or the 1977 Anna Karenina, also done by the BBC. The production values are lower, some of the blocking and staging feel a bit awkward. I’m not sure how I feel about Sylvestra Le Touzel as Fanny—for the large part, she’s all right, but I don’t particularly like the way she sometimes moves her hands. I don’t really like Nicholas Farrell as Edmund either, who I think looks rather too old for the role, and the switch from Mary to Fanny at the end feels rather sudden. 

But the most unconvincing are Robert Burbage and Jackie Smith-Wood as the Crawfords—I don’t think there’s anything wrong with their acting as such, but the Crawfords are the most attractive and charming of Jane Austen’s villains—so charming that some readers even fall for them, prefer Mary Crawford to Fanny Price, and think that Fanny should have accepted Henry—the actors aren’t quite right for the roles.  

I also think that, spanning 6 episodes, the series has time to develop the characters and their relationships but handles the first half much better than the second half. The first half is very good, from the depiction of Fanny’s place at Mansfield Park, to the ha-ha sequence, to the play-acting sequence. I especially like the way the series depicts Henry Crawford flirting simultaneously with Maria Bertram (Samantha Bond) and Julia Bertram (Liz Crowther), sporting with their feelings—what a rake—which doesn’t escape Fanny’s eyes. The acting is good. Like the novel, the series makes me feel sorry for the vain Julia and the ridiculous Mr Rushworth. 

It is in the second half that the series does less well—I mean the way Henry starts with wanting to break Fanny’s heart but falls in love with her, and the way he, despite his feelings for Fanny, can’t resist the fun and flirtatious Maria. Perhaps part of it is because the actor isn’t convincing in the role, I don’t know.

In short, this is a more faithful, more serious adaptation of Mansfield Park than later versions, which I appreciate. But there are flaws. 

Thanks to Brian Green for telling me about this adaptation. 

On Anna Karenina (1977), the 7th and best adaptation I’ve seen of Tolstoy’s novel

My collage of all the 7 Annas I have seen (in chronological order). 

One common problem with adaptations of Anna Karenina is that, because of length, they have to cut many things and thus cannot convey the complexity of the characters and their relationships. The Greta Garbo film (1935) is 1 hour 35 minutes, the Vivien Leigh film (1948) is 2 hours 19 minutes, the Tatiana Samoilova film (1967) is 2 hours 25 minutes, the Sophie Marceau film (1997) is 1 hour 48 minutes, the Keira Knightley film (2012) is 1 hour 9 minutes, the Vittoria Puccini film (2013) is 3 hours 15 minutes—the novel is over 900 pages!—the 1977 series is 10 episodes, totalling 8 hours 20 minutes. 

Something I have noticed is that adapters often have trouble with Karenin. The earlier films, 1935 and 1948 films especially, tend to present Karenin as some sort of monster (presumably to make Anna more sympathetic) whereas some later ones, particularly 2012 and 2013, very much soften Karenin, making him more sympathetic, and present Anna as irrational and selfish and Vronsky as some callous playboy. They more or less pick one side over the other, and simplify the story.   

But if you watch the 1977 series, you can see the different facets of the characters, you can see their complexity, you can see their contradictions. Tolstoy may have begun Anna Karenina intending to condemn adultery, condemn the fallen woman, but gradually had compassion for them all, and do we not, reading his novel? We have compassion for Anna, who marries without love and has the misfortune of falling in love with someone else, unable to get a divorce. We can see why Anna hates Karenin, but can feel his pain and humiliation. We understand Vronsky’s shame and see the pain he causes Karenin, but he does love Anna, unlike the callous lovers of Emma Bovary. All these characters are complex, and you can all see that in the performances of Nicola Pagett, Eric Porter, and Stuart Wilson. 

In Stuart Wilson’s performance as Vronsky, I see a man who initially lives for fun and pleasure and who is ennobled by love—he changes—Stuart Wilson is especially good in the scenes of Vronsky suffering, such as the sense of immense shame and humiliation after Anna’s childbirth, and the scene in which he confides in Dolly about their impossible situation—he conveys better than other actors Vronsky’s depth of feeling and his struggle as Anna becomes increasingly difficult. Eric Porter’s Karenin is also the best Karenin I have seen—I can see why Anna doesn’t love him and Seryozha is afraid of him, which I don’t see when the 2012 and 2013 versions soften the character—at the same time, the earlier actors tend to play Karenin as a cold man, without feelings, Eric Porter’s Karenin is a man who speaks of duty, honour, and later Christianity, because he rejects his own feelings. Most importantly, Nicola Pagett is better than all the Annas I have seen, partly thanks to the length of the production and partly thanks to her own performance—she has the charm and passion of Anna, she conveys the shame, the struggle, the self-doubt, the insecurities, the anguish, the paranoia, the contradictions in the character. 

The 1977 series reminds me of the qualities for which Anna Karenina is so dear to my heart. 

This adaptation of Anna Karenina still prioritises the Anna strand—Kitty’s time in Germany for example is cut, Levin’s “revelation” is also cut—but because of length, it can include more of the Levin strand than most other versions. I do very much like Robert Swann as Levin and Caroline Langrishe as Kitty—it’s great casting—she has the innocence and purity of Kitty that contrasts with the more mature and darker sexual charm of Anna. Those of you who prefer the Levin strand to the Anna strand may prefer that the 2013 version puts more emphasis on Levin and Kitty, but that version has the modern disease of quick cuts, constant camera movements, and quiet and badly written dialogue—the 1977 series has great dialogue, spoken clearly, and allows the camera to linger, allows the drama to unfold. 

In short, this is a great adaptation, pitch-perfect. This is something it has in common with the 1972 War and Peace (with Anthony Hopkins as Pierre), also by the BBC: those who are used to spectacular visuals and place the image above all else may complain that these adaptations are “stagey” and lacking in camerawork, but to me, it’s much more important that something is well-written, well-developed, well-acted—I would always choose great performances with basic cinematography, over spectacular cinematography with mediocre performances and hollow representations of characters, especially if it’s an adaptation of a novel—in both cases, the screenwriters (Donald Wilson for Anna Karenina and Jack Pulman for War and Peace) understand and respect the novel, and in both cases, there’s a strong cast. I often say that the 1972 War and Peace handles Tolstoy’s characters much better than Bondarchuk’s film series and its only flaw is Natasha—but there is no weak point in the 1977 Anna Karenina. 

It is my favourite Tolstoy adaptation. 

It took me years to search for the series. It’s now uploaded on Youtube, in good quality. What are you waiting for? 

PS: 11/6 is my birthday. 

Tartuffe and The Misanthrope— Molière in Richard Wilbur’s verse translations

After the horrors of the Jacobean plays, here is warmth and light! 

1/ The eponymous character of Tartuffe, the impostor or hypocrite, doesn’t appear till Act 3.

Everything takes place in the Orgon household, as Orgon is under Tartuffe’s spell and has taken him into the house. Apart from Orgon, the only person who loves Tartuffe is Orgon’s mother, Pernelle. Everyone else hates him: Elmire, Orgon’s wife; Damis and Mariane, Orgon’s son and daughter and Elmire’s stepson and stepdaughter; Cleante, Elmire’s brother; Valere, Mariane’s lover; Dorine, Mariane’s maid. 

The play was first performed in 1664 and, according to Wikipedia, Molière played Orgon. 

Orgon is so taken with Tartuffe for some reason that he wants to break his promise and marry his daughter Mariane to him, against her wish but also—as it surprisingly turns out—not according to Tartuffe’s desire. 

Some of the best lines in the play belong to Dorine, the maid: 

“DORINE Tell him one cannot love at a father’s whim; 

That you shall marry for yourself, not him; 

That since it’s you who are to be the bride, 

It’s you, not he, who must be satisfied; 

And that if his Tartuffe is so sublime, 

He’s free to marry him at any time.” 

(Act 2 scene 3) 

Later: 

“TARTUFFE (taking a handkerchief from his pocket) For mercy’s sake 

Please take this handkerchief, before you speak. 

DORINE What? 

TARTUFFE Cover that bosom, girl. The flesh is weak, 

And unclean thoughts are difficult to control. 

Such sights as that can undermine the soul. 

DORINE Your soul, it seems, has very poor defences, 

And flesh makes quite an impact on your senses. 

It’s strange that you’re so easily excited; 

My own desires are not so soon ignited, 

And if I saw you naked as a beast, 

Not all your hide would tempt me in the least.” 

(Act 3 scene 2)  

Ha! 

The whole play is very, very funny. Tartuffe is a very good depiction of a religious hypocrite but Orgon is a more interesting case study and, despite the name of the play, is the central character. I note that we see Tartuffe’s pretence of piety in Acts 3 and 4 but have only one scene of his manipulation, when Damis angrily tells Orgon about Tartuffe’s (one-sided) flirtation with his wife and Tartuffe has to save himself—in all the other scenes, we see Tartuffe with people who have seen through him and hate him. Now look at Orgon—how is a man so utterly under another man’s spell that he’s willing to turn against his whole family and hand over to him his entire estate? It’s a great depiction of religious mania. 

2/ There is a figure that gets satirised in both plays:

In Tartuffe: 

“DORINE Oh, yes, she’s strict, devout, and has no taint 

Of worldliness; in short, she seems a saint. 

But it was time which taught her that disguise;

She’s thus because she can’t be otherwise. 

So long as her attractions could enthrall, 

She flounced and flirted and enjoyed it all, 

But now that they’re no longer what they were

She quits a world which fast is quitting her, 

And wears a veil of virtue to conceal

Her bankrupt beauty and her lost appeal. 

That’s what becomes of old coquettes today:

Distressed when all their lovers fall away, 

They see no recourse but to play the prude, 

And so confer a style on solitude. 

Thereafter, they’re severe with everyone,

Condemning all our actions, pardoning none, 

And claiming to be pure, austere, and zealous

When, if the truth were known, they’re merely jealous, 

And cannot bear to see another know

The pleasures time has forced them to forgo.” 

(Act 1 scene 2) 

In The Misanthrope, such a figure appears as Arsinoé: 

“CELIMENE It’s all an act. 

At heart she’s worldly, and her poor success 

In ensnaring men explains her prudishness. 

It breaks her heart to see the beaux and gallants

Engrossed by other women’s charms and talents,

And so she’s always in a jealous rage

Against the faulty standards of the age, 

She lets the world believe that she’s a prude

To justify her loveless solitude, 

And strives to put a brand of moral shame

On all the graces that she cannot claim…” 

(Act 3 scene 3) 

We all know that type, don’t we? 

On a side note, I don’t like the way scenes are divided in these plays—it’s marked as a new scene whenever a character leaves or enters, which doesn’t make sense—I prefer the way it’s done in Shakespeare’s plays. 

3/ This is the titular character of The Misanthrope: 

“ALCESTE […] we all desire 

To be told that we’ve the true poetic fire. 

But once, to one whose name I shall not mention, 

I said, regarding some verse of his invention, 

That gentleman should rigorously control 

That itch to write which often afflicts the soul; 

That one should curb the heavy inclination 

To publicize one’s little avocation; 

And that in showing off one’s works of art 

One often plays a very clownish part.” 

(Act 1 scene 2) 

Hahahaha I must say that to certain “poets” on the hellsite previously known as Twitter. 

Compared to the main characters of The Miser, The Self-Made Gentleman, and Tartuffe, Alceste is more ambiguous: his misanthropy is extreme, but at the same time Molière exposes the insincerity and hypocrisy and treachery around him—his fervour for honesty, his yearning for honour and justice, and his irrational love for Célimène make him in some way a quixotic figure. 

“ALCESTE No, no, this formula you’d have me follow, 

However fashionable, is false and hollow, 

[…] 

Should you rejoice that someone fondles you, 

Offers his love and services, swears to be true, 

And fills your ears with praises of your name, 

When to the first damned flop he’ll say the same? 

No, no: no self-respecting heart would dream 

Of prizing so promiscuous an esteem; 

However high the prise, there’s nothing worse 

Than sharing honours with the universe. 

Esteem is founded on comparison: 

To honour all men is to honour none…” 

(Act 1 scene 1) 

One can’t help liking him. 

“PHILINTE Come, let’s forget the follies of the times 

And pardon mankind for its petty crimes: 

Let’s have an end of rantings and of railings, 

And show some leniency towards human failings. 

This world requires a pliant rectitude; 

Too stern a virtue makes one stiff and rude; 

Good sense views all extremes with detestation, 

And bids us to be noble in moderation…” 

(ibid.) 

Molière gives Alceste’s friend some great lines—I would guess that these lines reflect Molière’s own attitude towards humanity—but he also depicts Philinte as an insincere man—it is one thing to avoid being brutally honest and hurting someone’s feelings, it is quite a different thing to give high praise to something we know to be bad, as Philinte does with Oronte’s poem. 

The play is, up to a point, more ambiguous. Another difference between The Misanthrope and some other Molière comedies I have read is that it doesn’t have a happy ending—in fact, the ending is troubling—as my friend Himadri puts it, Alceste is on the path towards becoming Gulliver. 

Both are great plays, and I enjoyed Wilbur’s translation. 

The Changeling, a great play by Thomas Middleton and William Rowley

1/ The play premiered in 1622. I was quite surprised to come across a reference to A Midsummer Night’s Dream: 

“FRANCISCUS Hail, bright Titania! 

Why stand’st thou idle on these flow’ry banks? 

Oberon is dancing with his Dryades; 

I’ll gather daisies, primrose, violets, 

And bind them in a verse of poesy.” 

(Act 3 scene 3) 

Didn’t expect that. 

2/ There are two (not quite parallel) plots that later converge. 

The main plot starts with a forced marriage, like Women Beware Women: Beatrice-Joanna is in love with Alsemero but forced by her father Vermandero to marry Alonzo de Piracquo.  

In the subplot, Alibius, a jealous doctor, imprisons his beautiful wife Isabella in the house for fear of losing her, as Leantio does with Bianca in Women Beware Women. He tells his servant Lollio to keep watch on Isabella. 

“LOLLIO I’ll do my best, sir, yet surely I cannot see who you should have cause to be jealous of.

ALIBIUS Thy reason for that, Lollio? ’Tis a comfortable question. 

LOLLIO We have but two sorts of people in the house, and both under the whip, that’s fools and madmen; the one has not wit enough to be knaves, and the other not knavery enough to be fools.” 

(Act 1 scene 2) 

It is a madhouse—fools and madmen are those we now call the mentally disabled and the mentally ill. There are however two counterfeits—Franciscus and Antonio pretend to be a madman and a fool in order to enter the house, as they’re in love with Isabella. Lollio is also horny for her. 

“ISABELLA […] would a woman stray, 

She need not gad abroad to seek her sin, 

It would be brought home one way or other; 

The needle’s point will to the fixed north, 

Such drawing arctics women’s beauties are.” 

(Act 3 scene 3) 

3/ In the main plot, De Flores, an ugly servant, is obsessed with Beatrice-Joanna (“Dog-face” she calls him). When he sees her with Alsemero despite her engagement to Alonzo, he thinks: 

“DE FLORES I have watch’d this meeting and do wonder much 

What shall become of tother; I’m sure both 

Cannot be serv’d unless she transgress, happily 

Then I’ll put in for one; for if a woman 

Fly from one point, from him she makes a husband, 

She spreads and mounts then like arithmetic, 

One, ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, 

Proves in time sutler to an army royal…” 

(Act 2 scene 2) 

What a disgusting man.

Beatrice-Joanna is in a pickle—she loves a man but her father forces her to marry another—not knowing how to get out of the marriage, she decides to hire De Flores to kill Alonzo, and once “Dog-face” gets the money and runs away, she will be rid of “two inveterate loathings” at once—I mean, what is she even thinking? 

The scene of De Flores speaking to Beatrice-Joanna after the deed is done is a fantastic scene: 

“DE FLORES Do you place me in the rank of verminous fellows, 

To destroy things for wages? Offer gold? 

The life blood of man! Is anything 

Valued too precious for my recompense?” 

(Act 3 scene 4) 

No, not money—he wants her virginity. 

“BEATRICE Why, ’tis impossible thou canst be so wicked, 

Or shelter such a cunning cruelty, 

To make his death the murderer of my honour! 

Thy language is so bold and vicious, 

I cannot see which way I can forgive it 

With any modesty. 

DE FLORES Push, you forget yourself! 

A woman dipp’d in blood, and talk of modesty? 

[…] 

DE FLORES Look but into your conscience, read me there,

’Tis a true book, you’ll find me there your equal…” 

(ibid.) 

An excellent scene—it must be one of the greatest scenes in 17th century English drama—and I think The Changeling is one of the greatest plays I’ve read, because of the twisted relationship between Beatrice-Joanna and De Flores. It disgusts, but it also fascinates. Other plays from the same period also paint violence, also depict depravity, also portray evil, but the relationship between these two characters is more bizarre and perplexing—Beatrice-Joanna goes from loathing De Flores to being under his power, to being sexually drawn to him, to, in a way, even loving him—it is therefore more fascinating. Beatrice-Joanna especially is a great character, a complex character. She is wicked, but at the same time her attraction, or attachment, to De Flores, despite his ugliness and despite her feelings for Alsemero, makes her appear helpless as it’s something beyond her control.   

And the bed trick? It’s even more twisted than the ones in Measure for Measure and All’s Well that Ends Well. 

4/ I also like that the main plot is a tragedy and the subplot is a comedy—it is audacious—and it works very well. 

A masterpiece.