Pride and Prejudice (2005)

After the phenomenal success of the iconic 1995 BBC miniseries of Pride and Prejudice, several modern versions of Jane Austen’s story emerged: Bridget Jones’s Diary in 2001, Pride and Prejudice the Latter-Day Comedy in 2003, and Bride and Prejudice in 2004. After ten years, studios decided it was about time for another straightforward adaptation. Actually, taking into account that most Pride and Prejudice adaptations have been serials or made-for-TV movies, it had been 65 years. The Pride and Prejudice film made in 2005 and its predecessor, the 1940 Laurence Olivier version, share the distinction as being the only two surviving, straightforward theatrical adaptations of the beloved novel.

Keira Knightley, in her Oscar-nominated performance, plays a softspoken, observant Elizabeth Bennett. Possibly taking a cue from Jennider Ehle of 1995 fame, her eyes follow everything that happens around her, trying to gauge other people’s thoughts and intentions. A running gag throughout the film involves the Bennett sisters and mother eavesdropping whenever something important or at least gossip-worthy is being said. But Elizabeth, not content to remain behind cracked doors, looks other people in the eye. She reads, but is secure enough in herself to not brag about it and label herself as an “accomplished” woman.

The camera itself seems to be an extension of Elizabeth Bennett’s personality. Characters are blocked and framed strategically from scene to scene, presented in different angles. And with the exquisite Oscar-nominated art direction and costume design, there is a lot for the camera to see.

With only 127 minutes to cram the content of a five-part book into a faithful adaptation, the 2005 Pride and Prejudice cannot focus on the supporting characters with the same intensity as the 1995 six-hour BBC miniseries. Jane Bennett (Rosamund Pike) is understated, nice and pretty but a little clueless, and a perfect match for the wholesome, cheerful Bingly (Simon Woods) whose hair looks like he is going to break out singing “Never Gonna Give You Up” at any point in the movie. His best friend and foil, Mr. Darcy (Matthew Macfadyan), is unimpressed by society and alternately stuck up or socially awkward. His sister Caroline Bingley (Kelly Reilly) is not the overtly snobby primadonna from previous versions – she is the passive-aggressive “friend” who just might stab you in the back. And she does.

With little time to establish character through dialogue and interactions, Joe Wright and company do their best with quick but effective visual impressions. In one scene, the Bennett women line up on the couch with Mrs. Bennett, Kitty, and Lydia smiling in bright pastels in contrast to Mary, who wears gray and frowns and rolls her eyes. Interestingly, this is the only adaptation that touches on Kitty’s change at the end of the book. After Lydia is married and Kitty is effectively grounded, the latter sulks and pouts and begins to act more like Mary.

One of my favorite aspects of director Joe Wright and writer Deborah Moggach’s interpretation was Lizzie Bennett’s connection to nature. In the opening scene, she is walking by herself, reading a book. Most of her important scenes happen outdoors by the pond or at the tranquil tree trunk. Mr. Collins proposes to her inside the house, but Mr. Darcy proposes (twice) outdoors. This unspoken aspect of her character is very important to her motives regarding Pemberley – she does not want Mr. Darcy for his money, per se. She admires Mr. Darcy’s land and his taste in art; Pemberley is a personality match rather than a financial match. As they admit to each other toward the end, they both have faults; they are similar and stubborn. Their personalities and tastes have much in common.

As I was watching this film, I really wanted to like it. Wright and Moggach took on an ambitious project in adapting the five-part novel into a theatrical feature film – the only one besides the looser 1940 version. They did a great job of cramming all the major plot points and characters into the limited time. The actors were good, the production design was beautiful, and the cinematography was beautiful – by all counts a high production value. Something was missing though… and that something was humor. Aside from a bit of comic relief from Mrs. Bennett and the youngest sisters, this is a very serious and dramatic interpretation of Pride and Prejudice.

Lady Catherine de Bourg is a prime example of the noticeable change in tone. In the 1940 version, she is a loud, quirky spinster. In the 1995 miniseries, she is an angry and petty aristocrat who has no idea how pathetic she is. In the 2005 movie, Lady Catherine is flat out villainous. The unflattering lighting on the confrontation scene presents her as a real threat to Elizabeth, psychologically if not practically. Most famous for her role as “M” in the last several James Bond films, Judi Dench effectively brings her commanding presence (and a monster wig) to Lizzie’s antagonist.

Even Mr. Collins, who is typically played for over-the-top comedy, is serious in this film. He delivers his lines flatly, even “the violence of my affections.” He advertises his lack of originality not only by name-dropping Lady Catherine, but by reading hours of Fordyce’s Sermons instead of writing his own.

Unlike other adaptations, which satirize the lives of upper-middle-class country gentry who rely on marriage for money and make drama of their lives of leisure, the Bennetts are shown to actually work for a living. Longborne is a working farm as well as a house. The film also highlights the class differences between the dances. The first dance, held out in the country, has a rustic atmosphere where the participants part for Bingly, Caroline, and Darcy like the Red Sea. Another dance takes place in an ornate ballroom. The odds of Elizabeth getting together with the wealthy Mr. Darcy are visually staggering. The “rags to riches” narrative works well here, but it tends to overpower the primary satire.

The latest Pride and Prejudice is beautiful to watch. It is refreshing to see a literary adaptation that dares to experiment with different camera techniques and designs rather than being merely safe and educational, and it does a good job bringing out characters with so little screen time. Like so many adaptations, it is a good film by itself, but it fails to capture much of the feeling and essence of the source material.

Bride and Prejudice (2004)

“All mothers think a guy with big bucks must be shopping for a wife.” So says Lalita Bahksi, the Lizzie Bennett of a modernized Pride and Prejudice set in the age of text messages, online matchmaking sites, and international flights where the Bennetts are Indians, Bingly is British, and Darcy is an American.

Even though it is described as such, Bride and Prejudice is not technically a Bollywood film. Even though it takes place in India and had collaboration of Indian actors and crew, the director Gurinder Chadha (Bend It Like Beckham) is a British citizen, most of the movie was filmed in the United Kingdom for contractual reasons, the language is English, and distribution was picked up by the American company Miramax.

Chadha and her co-writer husband Paul Mayeda Berges, however, are no strangers to Indian film and culture, and the movie does have a Bollywood feel. While not a literal adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, it brings a unique joyful and colorful angle to the story with plenty of song, dance, and beautiful dresses – elements within Jane Austen’s original Pride and Prejudice as well.

The Bennett family are the Bakhsis of India – eldest Jaya (Namrata Shirodkar), skeptical Lalita (Aishwarya Rai), nerdy Maya (Meghna Kothari), and boy-crazy Lahki (Peeya Rai Chowdhary). It is easy to guess their equivalent Austen characters (there is no Kitty, however). Mrs. Bakhsi (Nadira Babbar) is eager to get her daughters married, but not out of impending financial circumstances like the novel.

Mr. Balraj (Naveen Andrews), the Mr. Bingly character, is a wealthy Englishman who immediately takes a liking to Jaya. His sister Kiran, on the other hand, is disdainful of India, and his best friend along for the ride – William Darcy, played by Martin Henderson – is the textbook definition of an Ugly American. At least Lalita thinks so. Judging from one or two ignorant offhand remarks, she has him pegged as a colonist who looks down on Indian women as “simple and traditional.”

Later, Lalita meets another Westerner named Johnny Wickham (Daniel Gillies), and they bond over their mutual disdain of Mr. Darcy. Lalita wants to believe he is a good guy, and he does appear to respect Indian culture. As it ultimately turns out, of course, Johnny Wickham is just superficially politically correct in order to get what he wants. He plays with Lalita’s heart, then stops emailing. He has a thing for teenaged girls, attempting to run away with the naïve Lahki after his past when he got Mark Darcy’s sixteen-year-old younger sister pregnant.

Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy – properly chided for his relatively harmless ignorance – turns out to be a good guy. “You’ve got me all wrong,” he says to Lahki, trying consistently to get her attention. He exchanges his first-class seat with Mrs. Bennett (who is thrilled for the opportunity to be among the VIPs), and he is open-minded after all. After having stereotyped him as narrow, Lalita is surprised when their first date in California is at a mariachi restaurant. He even helps Lalita chase Wickham and Lahki through London, culimating in a fistfight at a Bollywood movie theater. The biggest impediment to his getting together with Lahki is his mother, Catherine Darcy (Marsha Mason), a California hotel mogul who believes yoga and Deepak Chopra are all there is to appreciate about India.

Beyond the main Darcy and Elizabeth plot, the hilarious supporting characters steal the show in a couple of scenes. Mr. Kholi (Nitin Ganatra) is the most over-the-top Mr. Collins ever, as a flamoyant Indian-American businessman who has come to the subcontinent from California to find a wife. “Don’t say anything too intelligent,” Lahki’s mother tells her. Mr. Kholi dominates the dinner table with descriptions of his mansion and wealth in the United States – similar to Mr. Collins taking pride in his connection to Lady Catherine. Lahki avoids him like the plague, and she sees him wearing a red American Flag speedo in her dreams. Her best friend Chandra Lamba – Charlotte Lucas – doesn’t mind at all and marries him for his money.

Another scene-stealer is the otherwise reserved Maya. Instead of playing piano, she performs an awesomely bad “cobra dance” until her father tells her that is enough.

The comedy and closeness of Lahki’s family distinguishes Bride and Prejudice from the other modern adaptation, Bridget Jones’s Diary, which is even more loose. While Bridget stays alone in her apartment, occasionally hanging out with her parents, Lahki is always around her family, and the sisters are very close to each other. Mark Darcy notices this, commenting to Lahki that India has close families, unlike America. While setting Pride and Prejudice in a non-Western backdrop may seem like a novelty, it actually works better in some ways because of the importance and closeness of the large family to the story.

The conflict between the Indian characters and the Western or Westernized characters also reflects the conflict between the rural and urban characters in Austen’s world. Like Lahki in the movie, Elizabeth Bennett would have been highly skeptical of city people like Mr. Darcy possibly trying to impose their wealth, culture, fashion, and attitude of superiority on the country people, who were often unfairly regarded as backward.

Like the 1940 Pride and Prejudice, this is a light-hearted adaptation where nothing bad happens and where obvious moralizing replaces wit and satire. And like the Beatles musical tribute Across the Universe, the film is worth seeing for the glamorous visuals and the dance numbers, along with some hilarious moments, if one can forgive its often painfully on-the-nose dialogue. The plot is fairly straightforward, so there are no surprises for people who have read the book and/or seen any other Pride and Prejudice movies. This is a movie definitely driven by its lavish production design and choreography, straightforward fun for popcorn rather than for analysis.

Sparkhouse (2002)

Women want money and men want sex, claims conventional wisdom. In Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, Catherine spurns Heathcliff to marry Edgar for his money. In the BBC miniseries Sparkhouse, Robin Shepperd and Sally Wainwright’s loose modern adaptation of Wuthering Heights, the “Heathcliff” is a girl and the “Catherine” is a guy. So, you can see where this is going.

Sparkhouse is not as bad as it may sound, and is probably the best of the three contemporary Wuthering Heights-inspired soap operas made within this decade. The other two, MTV’s Wuthering Heights, CA and The Promise, were about hip fashionistas persecuting each other from one sunny beach party to the next – which may work for the satire of Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, but not as much for the dark atmosphere of Wuthering Heights. Sparkhouse actually retains the northern English moors (specifically, West Yorkshire) of the original setting and a sense of real hardship.

In the original novel, Catherine and Heathcliff have a primarily psychological connection, so film and television adaptations have traditionally made the point to not show the protagonists having sex – if they do, it is off screen and up to interpretation (e.g. the 1970 version). Sparkhouse nods to this tradition quite noticeably; at the beginning, it is clear that Carol Bolton (Sarah Smart), the female Heathcliff, and Andrew Lawton (Joe McFadden), the male Catherine, are saving themselves for marriage to each other. They are neither socially awkward nor particularly religious, as the stereotype goes. Their own unique connection is what drives this commitment.

Carol is the feisty girl from the dysfunctional family at Sparkhouse Farm. Her father is an abusive alcoholic, her mother loses her job and runs off with a random guy with a BMW and James Bond soundtrack, and her little sister Lisa is the one who gives her a reason to stay. Traditional to the Heathcliff role, she wears dark colors. Andrew is the middle-class, college-bound guy who looks like he belongs in a boy band. His family is less dramatic, but troubled in their own way. His bitter, domineering mother is somewhat of a mirror image with Carol’s creepy father. He wears white and lighter colors, traditional to the Catherine role, with a modern business-casual look. Carol and Andrew are neither blood-related nor adoptive siblings here, so the miniseries effectively takes that little complication out of their relationship. They love to run around the moors and read passages from Wuthering Heights in their favorite spot.

Andrew’s parents try to coerce him to break up with the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Money and class do not sway him. He and Carol go to the courthouse to get their marriage license, to the chagrin of his parents. Frustrated, he says he has done everything else to please them: “I’m good, I’m polite, I’m nice,” mirroring Catherine’s “I’m an angel” quip in the original novel. Andrew tells them that without Carol, he would become like them – that is, shallow and unloving. “I’m nothing without her… She is me. You can’t change that. Nobody can.” (An interesting aside: Sarah Smart played Catherine Linton in a straight adaptation of Wuthering Heights in 1998. So, Heathcliff and Catherine are literally the same person.)

But they can and they do – when Andrew’s father digs up the medical records showing that rather than being a virgin, Carol gave birth at age twelve. Andrew confronts Carol, who tells him the obvious – her father raped her, her sister is also her daughter, and she didn’t want either Andrew or Lisa to know. When the time comes for the church wedding ceremony, Andrew’s revulsion runs ahead of his love for her, and he fails to show up.

Carol goes ax crazy on the Lawtons’ car and hangs their dog offscreen. But once she gets that disturbing behavior out of her system, she is a very tame and sympathetic Heathcliff who is more sinned against than sinning. The exception is when she plays with the heart of the handsome but socially awkward farmhand John Standring (Richard Armitage), who seems to be a conglomeration of Isabella and Hareton. On the other hand, the self-described “nice guy” Andrew wreaks the most havoc and ends up losing any kind of sympathy from the audience.

When Carol returns to the country seemingly well off, Andrew is married to his nice, conventional college girlfriend Becky – which doesn’t stop him and Carol from meeting and making out on the moors. Meanwhile, Carol proposes to John. Andrew is not bothered by the fact that she is marrying him for money (an arrangement which John enters with eyes wide open), but that they will – obviously – have sex. While Carol reluctantly chooses to move on, Andrew insists on having it both ways and engages in some nasty, violent, stalkerish behaviors. He becomes as whiny as Hayden Christiansen’s Anakin Skywalker in the Star Wars prequels. Meanwhile, John – while having some obvious self-esteem problems – seems to know a bit more about real love. “Never think you can’t tell me things [from your past],” he tells Carol, contrasting with Andrew’s volatile and conditional affections.

The final resolution of the love triangle puts a different spin on Wuthering Heights than most other film adaptations. While Carol/Heathcliff and Andrew/Catherine had a real and passionate love going on, they made some irreversible choices and needed to move on. While not going into the second half of the book for content (as usual), Sparkhouse ends with its spirit and resolution. The John/Carol/Andrew love triangle has many parallels to the Hareton/Catherine II/Linton love triangle, and the bittersweet ending draws similar conclusions.

This film has its share of flaws – the obsessive animosity of Andrew’s parents toward Carol from her childhood is never explained or explored. It is simply there to make the story work. Andrew, as mentioned before, starts as a believable boyfriend who derails into an obsessive stalker and an emo cliché without much to prompt such a drastic change. Yet this novel adaptation goes into territory that other adaptations have shied away from – and for the ladies, Richard Armitage may be reason enough to check it out.

Sources:

British Broadcasting Corporation (www.bbc.co.uk/drama/sparkhouse/)

Internet Movie Database

Bridget Jones's Diary (2001)

Like Rebecca, the romantic comedy Bridget Jones’s Diary is an adaptation of an adaptation. Specifically, this film directed by Sharon Maguire is based on Helen Fielding’s “chick lit” novel of the same name. Fielding has always been open about her inspiration from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Even further, Fielding admitted inspiration specifically from the 1995 BBC miniseries with its ironic Mr. Darcy played by Colin Firth. Like Joan Fontaine in both Rebecca and Jane Eyre, Colin Firth’s casting in Bridget Jones’s Diary emphasizes the similarities between the modern adaptation and the original novel. Fielding herself wrote the film’s screenplay with help from Richard Curtis and also Andrew Davies, the award-winning scribe from the BBC miniseries itself.

The story’s plot focuses on the Darcy/Lizzie/Wickham love triangle. Renee Zellweger in her Oscar-nominated leading role is the loose equivalent of Elizabeth Bennett, but she feels less like the specific character and more like a modern Everywoman who frets about her weight, listens to sappy pop music during certain moods, and dreads becoming a spinster – unlike Lizzie, who is less concerned about what others think and who initially says she will never marry. It is interesting to note that female protagonists in modern re-imaginings of literature tend to be less strong and confident than the originals. It is counterintuitive, but generally true: Elizabeth is a much stronger character than Bridget Jones, Jane Eyre is more confident than the second Mrs. DeWinter in Rebecca, and Elizabeth is again much more active than Bella Swan in Twilight.

One thing she does have in common with Elizabeth, however, is her verbal wit and tendency to make unfounded assumptions about people – good or bad. Set up by their parents at a New Year’s gathering, Bridget and the lawyer Mark Darcy reluctantly meet. Bridget immediately judges Mark Darcy by his ugly reindeer sweater. While Mr. Darcy does not call the protagonist “tolerable” this time around, he does call her “a verbally incontinent spinster who smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and dresses like her mother.” His character is considerably different from the other Mr. Darcy, however. Instead of the easily handsome original, his character takes on the role of the less obviously attractive “nice guy” who does not have the same way with women as his rival.

Bridget further lowers her opinion of Mr. Darcy upon hearing Daniel Cleaver’s story about their past friendship, without hearing Darcy’s side which is, of course, the true side. She knows theoretically that he is everything that can go wrong in a relationship, but she falls for him anyway. Pride and Prejudice adaptations have tended to cast Mr. Wickham as an afterthought; Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingly seem to get the most attention with Wickham as a side plot. Here, however, Hugh Grant brings out all this character’s charisma and seductive personality. Like Colin Firth, he contributes a familiarity to Austen material: he played Samuel Faulker in the 1995 adaptation of Sense and Sensibility.

With emphasis on these three characters, Bridget/Lizzie’s siblings are noticeably missing. Family relationships are important in the original Pride and Prejudice, but Bridget Jones’s Diary reflects more modern times where families are smaller and more separated. Bridget is an only child who lives alone. She has several close friends, but it is not the same, and at times she finds herself belting along with the radio about being “all by myself.”

However, in many ways, Bridget’s mum (Gemma Jones) takes on the roles of Mrs. Bennett and Lydia Bennett. Besides trying to set up her daughter with suitors, she herself runs off with a lover – an infomercial salesman – and causes a scandal for her poor taste if not for her obvious betrayal of marital vows. This conglomeration is not simply an expedient way to touch on two different characters, but a method of interpretation connecting the novel’s Mrs. Bennett and Lydia Bennett. In Austen’s book, the mother is just as ditzy as the daughter. Mrs. Bennett was probably like Lydia as a child, and Lydia will probably grow up to be like Mrs. Bennett. When Bridget’s mum comes home, her husband admits he should have been more attentive to her – highlighting Mr. Bennett’s similar weakness from the novel.

A few other supporting characters touch on loose similarities with the characters. Mary Bennett is reflected in one of Bridget’s friends, a gay ‘80s one-hit wonder pop singer who thinks he is more famous than he really is. Bridget has a creepy coworker Mr. Fitzbergert who flirts and makes passes at her, somewhat like Elizabeth Bennett’s repulsive cousin Mr. Collins.

In terms of tone and atmosphere, Bridget Jones’s Diary picks up on some of Jane Austen’s sarcastic style with the voiceovers. While having lots of narration is usually a very basic screenwriting no-no, Bridget’s thoughts add wit and personality to the BAFTA-nominated script. They also serve to satirize the social rules.

The 21^st Century does not have the same repressive mores lampooned in Jane Austen’s time period, but it does have “The Rules,” contemporary conventional wisdom and double standards for women’s dating behavior. Rather than breaking them from the outset, as Lizzie Bennett would, Bridget Jones initially plays by these rules. She worries about her weight, even though she is not fat. She lures Daniel Cleaver by pretending she to ignore him, trying not to come across as “too available.” She pretends she wants to go home in order to get sex with him. She agonizes over which underwear to put on. Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy finds himself falling for Bridget’s supposed awkwardness; like Elizabeth Bennett, Bridget has a playful disposition which is much more interesting and fun than that of his boring professional girlfriend Natasha.

Needless to say, The Rules do not work for Bridget – Daniel still does not stay with her. From then on, Bridget tries to be more confident. She throws away a book called What Men Want and replaces it with another self-help book, How To Get What You Want. Of course, the self-help books and increased exercise are still part of the film’s gentle satire of therapeutic, self-improvement society. Bridget ultimately gets beyond these things as well and learns to accept herself. Instead of ignoring Mr. Darcy, she unabashedly runs outside in her underwear – finally able to let go and embrace a sort of autonomy that is not so easily embarrassed.

Bridget Jones’s Diary is primarily a loose Chick Lit adaptation instead of an educational film to be analyzed. It is all good fun – but familiarity with its inspiration, the 1995 Pride and Prejudice, is needed to fully appreciate this movie’s context and humor.

Sources:

Internet Movie Database

PopMatters.com