The Critic (2023)

2023 (TIFF), 2024 (Official)

Rated R 1 hour 35 minutes Greenwich Entertainment Directed by Anand Tucker Starring Ian McKellen, Gemma Arterton, Ben Barnes, Mark Strong, Lesley Manville, Romola Garai, Alfie Enoch Based on the novel Curtain Call by Anthony Quinn Screenplay by Patrick Marber

A powerful London theatre critic lures a struggling actress into a blackmail scheme that has deadly consequences. [IMDb]

Take just a moment and glance up at that list of actors. The casting director certainly proved they were worth their weight in gold when they secured that lineup. Shame then, only two actors in the bunch were utilized for their unique gifts and talents. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. 

“The Critic” began life as a novel by Anthony Quinn entitled “Curtain Call” which focused on a stage actress, Nina Land, the man she was embroiled in an affair with, Stephen Wiley, and a character that was omitted from the screen adaptation. The trio end up in the middle of a murder mystery that spans the novel’s plot. Jimmy Erskine, the eponymous critic for whom the film pays respect, is a side character in the novel who has been elevated to leading man status–and a very different plot to compensate for that revision. Instead, the film alters the focus on Jimmy’s fight for survival as an influential theatre critic who is willing to go to any length to preserve his reputation and livelihood – even if that means blackmail and murder.

We’ve been here before. It’s not an unheard of occurrence when filmmakers option a book for its movie rights and turn that book into something altogether unrecognizable. So, if you’re a fan of Quinn’s novel, take “based on” with the most miniscule grain of salt and enjoy this film as it stands. On its own, it’s built on a relatively sturdy foundation, that is until about three-quarters of the way through, when the plot begins to fall apart. And, I suspect much of that has to do with the deviation from the source material–particularly the swapping of male leads and all of the necessary plot points that needed to be made to compensate for this change.

Ian McKellen stars as theatre critic Jimmy Erskine, who has the power to make or break a career. McKellen is, as always, a joy to watch. His performance is delightfully droll, snarky, and devil-may-care. One can easily see why Patrick Marber was drawn to the character when he read “Curtain Call” and worked alongside Quinn to elevate the character to leading man status. Gemma Arterton is quite engaging as Nina Land, a stage actress in her mid-30s still hoping for her big break and believing Jimmy is the one who could help her get it. The pair have great chemistry as they spar and mend fences; however, it’s when the plot calls for them to collude that things begin to unravel. Jimmy has just as much to hide as Nina does, and they both know each other’s secrets; so, when he blackmails her into a convoluted scheme to help him keep his job and all the societal perks it affords him, this move lacks believability. 

McKellen and Arterton in The Critic. (Greenwich Entertainment)

Furthermore, in the last quarter of the film, we watch as Jimmy slides into the role of evil villain in a hasty rush to the finish. This flaw in character development is either due to scripting issues or the additional round of editing that took place after the film’s original premiere at TIFF – or, more than likely, some combination of both. This is said not to degenerate the choices Marber and Tucker made; they are, after all, award-winning artists who know what they’re doing. Perhaps they were trying to achieve too much given all of the plot details and ran out of time trying to juggle a large cast that had to navigate murder and blackmail; brewing fascism in pre-WWII London; the seedy side of theatre culture; the negative attitude toward homosexuality; threads of nepotism and bigotry…well, the list goes on and on. At some point, they lost the forest for the trees.  

What’s particularly hard to reconcile is the crux of which I began this review. The stellar supporting cast has been reduced to a collection of brief appearances without much, if any, context to properly serve them. One example, although there are many, to prove my case: Why is the Wyley’s marriage in tatters? We get tantalizing hints as to why that could be in rushed conversations between Stephen and his daughter and those with his father-in-law; and while we get plenty of obvious tension between husband and wife, we have no real sense of what it was that made him flee to another woman’s arms. If it was a non-sequitur, one could understand the lack of context; however, it’s a seemingly necessary part of the plot and the glaring omission of vital context leaves the viewer questioning and unsatisfied. 

While we’re at it, let’s talk about that supporting cast. Mark Strong (“Kingsman,” “The Imitation Game”) plays David Brooke as a heart-breakingly sympathetic media mogul who isn’t one of Jimmy’s biggest fans and can force him into retirement with the stroke of his pen. Brooke’s daughter, played confidently by Romola Garai (“The Hour,” “Emma”), is brilliant as a contemptible, entitled heiress married to the society portrait painter Stephen Wyley, played by Ben Barnes (“The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian,” “Shadow and Bone”). This is perhaps one of the more egregious omissions from the book, which had Wyley as the main male character and hero. Barnes’ role was reduced to a few scenes in which the viewer is always left wanting more because he’s so charismatic, expressive, and captivating. To say his lack of screen time was a wasted opportunity is the understatement of all understatements. 

Barnes and Arterton in a scene excised from the final cut.
(Greenwich Entertainment)

Lesley Manville (“Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris,” “The Crown”) portrays Annabel Land, Nina’s mother, a caring stage mother who is perhaps a bit too honest in her criticism but truly has her daughter’s best interests at heart; which is why when Nina meets her cruel fate we feel every ounce of her grief and empathy in the scene she shares with Barnes, comforting the man who could have been her son-in-law. Alfie Enoch (“Foundation,” “How to Get Away with Murder”) plays Tom Turner, Jimmy’s live-in lover and personal assistant. Of the supporting cast members, Enoch gets the most screen time, albeit still lacking. And, like Jimmy, he doesn’t quite resonate with the same energy during the last quarter – and for similar reasons. Without revealing too much of the plot, there are factors that make Tom’s fight for justice intangible, namely the fact that he aids and abets the antagonist willingly and often. 

Enoch and McKellen in The Critic. (Greenwich Entertainment)

American viewers may not be too familiar with this cast, aside from the leading man; however, abroad and especially in the UK, this is the cream of the crop, which makes it not too fine a point to mention once again what a terrible shame it was that they weren’t given more time to shine.  

All this said, what the film gets right it does in spades. The transformation of London to the pre-WWII jazz age era is glorious–from lighting, palette, costuming, art direction, location, set design…it’s all a sumptuous feast for the eyes. The mood evoked by all of these choices is absolutely enthralling and thoroughly consuming. And the performances are well done, despite the incongruous scripting. Nonetheless, “The Critic” remains an entertaining film; but there is a lingering regret that it could have been so much more–maybe even a classic. 

Sons of Liberty (2015)

Sons of Liberty
2015
TV-14
Three-episode Miniseries
History Channel
Directed by Kari Skogland
Starring Ben Barnes, Rafe Spall, Michael Raymond-James, Ryan Eggold, Henry Thomas, Dean Norris, Jason O’Mara

 

The story of a group of very different men fighting in the American Colonies for freedom, and how they will shape the future for the United States of America. Based on true stories. [IMDb]

I’m not normally one for wartime epics or tales from the battlefield, but I do enjoy certain aspects of Revolutionary War history. So, naturally, when “Sons of Liberty”, a mini-series about the events that sparked the American Revolution began streaming again on Tubi, I had to give it a rewatch. While this History Channel production is light in the “history” department, it’s not to say it can’t be enjoyed for many legitimate reasons. 

A note for hardcore purists and history buffs: In the DVD extras, director Kari Skogland stated that “Sons of Liberty” would be told with authenticity, not necessarily with accuracy. I think it’s important to keep that in mind when watching this mini-series which highlights the period of roughly 11 years that led up to the signing of The Declaration of Independence. For the sake of cinematic effect and entertainment value, events have been dramatically accelerated, and while the pacing isn’t based in the actual timeline, it does make for compelling viewing.  

Ben Barnes as Samuel Adams apprehended by the British Army. [History Channel]

Also compelling is the level of attention to detail. Everything about this mini-series’ production value is top-notch. Let’s begin with set design: Everything was made from scratch – and filmed in Romania, no less. How the production team managed to make Romania look like 18th-century Boston and Philadelphia I will never understand, even if the DVD extras do a great job of showing just how they pulled it off. Costuming, hair and makeup – meticulously recreated. Lighting and special effects – brilliant. Cinematography, especially in the battle scenes – artistic and moving. This doesn’t look like basic cable programming; not to mention it’s nearly 10 years since filming and stands the test of time extremely well. 

Henry Thomas as John Adams, Barnes as Sam Adams,
and Michael Raymond-James as Paul Revere [History Channel]

Where I do find fault is in the handling and lack of iconic and dramatic moments such as Paul Revere’s famed ride, which is given very little on-screen focus and falls flat in the retelling. Also missing: the shot heard round the world. And, of course, the Boston Tea Party, while present, lacks drama and could have been given more emphasis. Understandably, there was a lot of ground to cover here, and decisions had to be made for better or worse. 

Ryan Eggold as Joseph Warren, Raymond-James, Barnes, Rafe Spall as John Hancock,
and Thomas: America's Founding Fathers prepare for revolution. [History Channel]

Performances, all around, are praise-worthy. Standouts include the leading actor, Ben Barnes who portrays Samuel Adams, the rabble-rousing upstart who sparked the American Revolution with his bevy of Founding Fathers: John Adams (Henry Thomas), Paul Revere (Michael Raymond-James), Joseph Warren (Ryan Eggold), and John Hancock (Rafe Spall). Of these key characters, the three who shine are Barnes, Raymond-James, and Spall. Each of them carries their scenes with weight and keep you drawn to the plotting, planning, scheming and dangers of igniting independence. Their fine handling of the script made for enjoyable viewing, easily convincing the audience that Adams was a justice-minded, daring and dashing hero; Revere was a no-holds-barred badass on the battlefield, and Hancock was a duplicitous opportunist turned do-gooder. Another stand-out is Dean Norris, who lends just the right amount of bawdy reprobate to his interpretation of Ben Franklin, who was in actuality extremely complicated.

A scene from the signing of the Declaration of Independence. [History Channel]

Mind you, all of these historical characters and the plot in which they find themselves, have been extremely altered from the actual truth. Very little of what’s portrayed on screen happened as you see it. If you would like a breakdown on some of the very notable facts vs. fiction, The Journal of the American Revolution is a good place to start. But, don’t let that dissuade you from giving this series your time. It’s entertaining on many levels–even if it is revisionist history.  

***

And now, for a small dose of humor in meme form inspired by watching Sons of Liberty. 

Dorian Gray (2009)

Dorian Gray
2009
Rated R
1 hr. 52 mins.
Momentum Pictures/Ealing Studios
Directed by Oliver Parker
Starring Ben Barnes, Colin Firth, Ben Chaplin, Rebecca Hall

A corrupt young man somehow keeps his youthful beauty eternally, but a special painting gradually reveals his inner ugliness to all. [IMDb)

When Oscar Wilde wrote his one-and-only novel (“The Picture of Dorian Gray,” published as a novella in “Lippincott's Monthly Magazine,” 1890; and in longer form one year later), it’s fair to say he had no idea that it would remain so permanently threaded in the fabric of society. Wilde’s novel is a shrewd commentary on culture’s perception of–-and obsession with–-youth and beauty, which is all the more poignant today's society than it was in the late-Victorian era. To this day, if someone seems to be defying the inevitable aging process, we pause to wonder: “Do they have a painting in their attic?” 

There have been scads of film, TV, and stage adaptations of what is considered Wilde’s most popular work–-barring his extremely clever and witty stage plays, namely “The Importance of Being Earnest”, “An Ideal Husband”, and “Lady Windermere’s Fan’. Arguably, the most well-known feature-length film version is Oliver Parker’s 2009 “Dorian Gray”, which stars Ben Barnes in the title role, Colin Firth as the dastardly Lord Henry Wotton, and Ben Chaplin as the ill-fated portrait painter Basil Hallward. Before we delve into the various themes Wilde focused on in the novel and how those play out on the big screen, I’ll provide a plot synopsis. Naturally, the film does differ from the book in several major ways, but essentially all the moving pieces are present and accounted for: 

Dorian Gray, a naive and sheltered young man, inherits the estate of his deceased grandfather turning him into a proper English gentleman overnight. He is immediately befriended by the upper echelon of Victorian London, developing a fast friendship with the much-ballyhooed portrait painter Basil Hallward. Through Hallward, he is introduced to Lord Henry Wooton, who becomes the architect of Dorian’s downfall. 

Although Dorian is keenly aware he possesses staggeringly good looks, his personality initially lacks conceit and his morals are safely intact. Everything changes as soon as the cynical and acid-tongued Lord Henry opens his mouth to spew his nihilistic philosophies on life. Events are triggered when Hallward’s finished portrait of Dorian is revealed. Lord Henry posits that unlike Dorian, the painting will never age. He asks Dorian if he’d be willing to bargain his soul in exchange for everlasting youth. Dorian admits he would. And, as if by some mischief or magic (neither Wilde or the 2009 film explain precisely how), Dorian’s soul and the painting become enmeshed. From that moment on, he stops aging and soon begins to notice that the portrait is aging in his place.

Ben Barnes in the role of Dorian Gray (2009)

Throughout the book and film, Dorian is extremely suggestible and easily led by Lord Henry’s silver-tongued philosophies. He warps the young innocent's mind for sport. In no time, Dorian takes on Lord Henry's penchant for partaking in society’s hedonistic pleasures–including opiates, heavy drinking, and prostitution. Early on, Lord Henry thwarts Dorian’s engagement to a naive young actress, who commits suicide when the marriage is called off–-an event that will haunt him for the remainder of his life. From here on, Dorian’s personal character shifts dramatically. 

Firth and Barnes in Dorian Gray (2009)

Under Lord Henry’s influence, Dorian slips into the rabbit hole of seedy London nightlife. With each misdeed and exploited vice, his portrait ages further–-taking on hideous characteristics that visually represent his evildoings. Both horrified by his strange new reality and desperate to make sure his bargain is kept, he hides the portrait in an attic chamber. In his most desperate act, he murders Hallward when the unwitting painter discovers the truth about Dorian’s ageless beauty. 

Decades pass, and Dorian has become a pro at leading a double life; but that doesn’t mean his reputation hasn’t suffered nor stopped people from gossiping about his ever-youthful appearance. From here, in what is the most obvious deviation from the source material, Dorian seeks redemption by falling in love with the principled daughter of Lord Henry. So distraught by their impending union, Lord Henry seeks to uncover Dorian’s secret, finds the painting, and confronts Dorian, who chooses to sacrifice himself in order to save his friend and the woman he had hoped could save him from himself. 

Moral of the story, simply put, an obsession with youth and beauty ultimately leads to the corruption of one’s soul. As Wilde wrote: 

“Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.”

Let’s take a few moments to consider this theme, along with others presented in both the film and the book and apply them to the climate of late-Victorian society. Wilde lived during what was perhaps the most hypocritical era of Western history. On the surface, Victorians were moral and upright; extremely guarded in all personal matters; critical of others who dabbled in anything labeled taboo; and bound by strict and convoluted rules of social etiquette. The irony being, more often than not, these same Victorians were addicted to legal and illegal substances; frequenting houses of ill-repute; having extra-marital affairs or keeping mistresses among other less-than-moral behaviors. (One glaring for instance: Let’s not forget how quickly the invention of modern pornography followed the invention of the camera.) “The Picture of Dorian Gray” was, and remains, a statement on how if one scratched below the surface, they’d find a very different Victorian society underneath. Beauty is, after all, only skin deep. 

Chaplin and Barnes in Dorian Gray (2009)

We can delve even deeper into the hypocrisy of Victorian society by examining another theme Wilde weaves into his narrative through subtle references and allusions to the main male characters’ sexual preferences. From dialogue alone, it’s all but certain that Hallward is in love with Dorian. Contemporary readers may have interpreted his effusiveness and obsession with Dorian as the passion an artist might have for his muse. However, more obvious allusions to Hallward’s love and lust for Dorian were edited out of subsequent editions of the novel both by Wilde himself and his publisher. 

Why the anticipatory censorship? We must remember the time in which the book was written, and that Wilde was living a double life himself. Married, but engaging in relationships with men--not unlike many men in the Victorian era who did the same and kept each other's secrets. Wilde chose to reveal through clever subtext and passing anecdotes that Dorian, Lord Henry, and Hallward were all engaged in same-sex liaisons–and, more than likely, with each other. (For example, the novel contains a subtle reference to Dorian and Lord Henry sharing a house while vacationing in Tangiers--a destination known to be frequented by gay men during the Victorian era--with purposeful intent.) 

While Wilde was restricted from using this theme overtly because homosexuality was illegal and subject to criminal conviction, the film does a thorough job expressing it. Under Lord Henry’s influence, Dorian engages in many types of sexual encounters. In today’s vernacular, he would most likely be considered pansexual. How these encounters are represented on film, however, does warrant some criticism. It’s not that the various acts that take place in the film didn’t exist at the time; they certainly did. Hell, the Victorians probably invented some of them. But, I do question the emphasis and screen time given to these encounters. At times, it does seem gratuitously presented for the sake of shock value and eroticism rather than for the purposes of moving the plot along or defining character. That being said, while those scenes are shocking, they are sexy and erotic, as well as artistically filmed and edited. 

Barnes en flagrante delecto in Dorian Gray (2009)
I'd show you others, but they're simply NSFW. This was the tamest of the lot.

I do wonder what Wilde would have thought if he’d been able to watch this adaptation. Would he have thought it was a bit over the top? Or, would he have applauded the freedom the filmmakers used to interpret his work? We’ll never know, of course; though, I do tend to side mostly on the latter. A final word on the subject: It is terribly sad to think that “The Picture of Dorian Gray” was used against Wilde's personal character in a court of law. Having faced multiple convictions and imprisonment, he ultimately fled England and died penniless and alone in Paris. In 2017, owing to the Alan Turing Law, Wilde along with approximately 50,000 men, was pardoned posthumously for homosexual acts once considered criminal offenses. 

Barnes as Dorian Gray confronts his demons.

Now, back to the film and how it differs from the book. Naturally, any literary work is going to require changes for cinematic adaptation. The problems with “Dorian Gray” are not so much to do with those plot device changes, but with the very awkward editing, pacing, and artistic choices. At times, it feels as if the filmmakers were too focused on making the movie visually stimulating (which it is) while ignoring their responsibility to the plot. They were also hyper-focused on what was then called “Gothic”, better known today as “horror”, aspects of the story. These rather cheesy, gruesome special effects, in my honest opinion, cheapened the look of the film, as well as the overall message. Make no mistake, “The Picture of Dorian Gray” is a fantasy with supernatural and early-horror overtones, but it is first and foremost a literary commentary on the superficial nature of society; how an obsessive interest in youth and beauty will lead to corruption; an allusion to the myth of Narcissus; and an indictment on the hypocrisy of repressed Victorian views. While the film did a great job of visualizing those themes, it fell short in giving them the weight of Wilde’s intent. 

(Scroll for more style comparisons.)

With respect to art direction, this film is a veritable feast for the eyes. From set dressing to costuming, everything feels authentically–and sumptuously–Victorian. The wardrobe team was definitely doing their due diligence when it came to dressing Dorian. I’ve no doubt they modeled the look on the author himself, using portraits taken of Wilde, namely those by photographer and lithographer Napoleon Sarony, for inspiration. (In addition to the image shown to the left, I’ve put together a small collection of examples to prove my hunch. Scroll to the end of the posting for a look.)

And, finally, some observations about the acting performances. For those of you who prefer to imagine Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy, look away. You won’t find him here. Firth is pure evil as Lord Henry, and you will surely hate him–-proving only that Firth is, no surprise, a great actor. Ben Barnes, who bears little resemblance to the book description of Dorian, is the quintessential picture of youth and beauty. He’s breathtakingly handsome, so it’s easy to understand why he has all of Victorian London captivated. His portrayal, given the confines of the script and what was done in post in terms of editing, is laudable. He transitions from a naive young man to an evil monster with dexterity and believability; and somehow manages to make you feel sympathy for what becomes a truly loathsome and grotesque character. But this seems to be Barnes’ forte, judging from his other roles; he has a knack for finding the humanity in any character, no matter how morally gray. Aside from Firth and Barnes, the other character portrayals are incidental and nothing to write home about. 

Overall, "Dorian Gray" is an entertaining, if unreliable adaptation of Wilde’s work. Watch it for entertainment value, but not for the basis of writing your book report. ;)

***

Comparing Oscar Wilde's Personal Style 
with the Costuming Choices for the 2009 Film "Dorian Gray"

(Sometimes, a picture really is worth a thousand words.)

Production stills and screen captures property of Momentum Pictures/Ealing Studios. 

Text and Edits by Nicola Delacoeur. 

Far from the Madding Crowd (2015)

Far from the Madding Crowd 

2015 PG-13 1 hours and 59 minutes Based on the novel by Thomas Hardy Directed by Thomas Vinterberg Starring Carey Mulligan, Matthias Schoenaerts, Michael Sheen, Tom Sturridge, Juno Temple

In Victorian England, the independent and headstrong Bathsheba Everdene attracts three very different suitors: Gabriel Oak, a sheep farmer; Frank Troy, a reckless Sergeant; and William Boldwood, a prosperous and mature bachelor. [IMDb]

Imagine this if you will…you’re a young, single, educated woman in late 19th-century England (Dorset, to be precise). Your parents have passed, you’ve no prospects and you’re living on a small piece of land belonging to your aunt. Sure, there’s a lovely, uncomplicated shepherd living nearby, who tries to sweep in and make you his bride, but you tell him you’re too independent to marry and it’s unlikely he’d be able to tame you. In just the first 10 minutes of the 2015 adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd, we learn that our heroine Bathsheba Everdene is a bit of a unicorn. She is way ahead of her time–partially because of who she is as a person and partially because of the fate that awaits her.

In short order, Bathsheba inherits her uncle’s estate–a large farmstead–which means this independent-minded woman becomes truly a woman of independent means overnight. This twist of fate makes her a rarity among Victorian women, most of whom weren’t permitted to do very much at all without a man’s permission. So, Bathsheba's circumstances are quite unique, especially in sleepy Dorset. She takes to farm management with gumption and innate skill, turning the failing venture into a booming success. Some of that success is owed to her former sweetheart, the shepherd Gabriel Oak, who still holds a torch for Bathsheba but keeps his feelings close to his vest. 

While Gabriel toils away, ever the loyal friend and worker, two other men pursue his unrequited love interest. Yet, he handles these suitors with grace and restraint; this is played subtly and beautifully by Matthias Schoenaerts. You get the sense he’s watching life play out in front of him but is unable to participate. There is a solemn, yet palpable sadness in his demeanor and no utterances of his enduring heartbreak. 

Just as sympathetic is the wildly wealthy William Boldwood, played by Michael Sheen. William was jilted early in his life and never entertained the idea of joining his heart to another…until Bathsheba. When he falls, he falls hard. And, it’s really hard to watch because it’s played so heartbreakingly well by Sheen. His longing for Bathsheba turns from a hopeful second chance at love to act of desperation. Having glimpsed a future he never thought he’d never see come to fruition only to watch it flit away was a bridge too far for this broken-hearted suitor. He descends into a quiet mania and meets an unfortunate fate. But, I wouldn’t expect anything less from Hardy as he’s known for eviscerating the hearts and minds of his readers.

Just when we’re certain Bathsheba won’t marry because, after all, she doesn’t need to–she falls headlong into the biggest mistake of her life. Enter Sergeant Frank Troy, a soldier in the Queen’s army who’s nursing a bitter and broken heart after his sweetheart leaves him at the altar (or so he thinks). Frank finds his way to Bathsheba’s farm and in literally no time at all elopes with her, much to the chagrin of her two former suitors. Frank is bad news, plain and simple. He has an angry streak, he’s reckless, he’s a drunk, and he's a gambler. Bathsheba really hit the jackpot with her choice of husband, a mistake that we assume will cost her everything she owns, as well as her self-respect. 

But, as chance would have it, Frank disappears after learning that his former sweetheart, who hadn’t jilted him after all and was carrying his child, died just after giving birth. With Frank presumed dead, it seems Bathsheba can reclaim her life, but is now strapped with the many debts her husband left behind. Boldwood attempts to remedy those debts by proposing marriage a second time, but again -- and in true Hardy style -- fate re-emerges in a most unexpected way.  I could tell you how it ends, but I’ve revealed enough to whet your appetite. This film is required viewing for any literary bookworm and period piece enthusiast. Carey Mulligan is a triumph as Bathsheba. She’s entirely believable as the strong-willed, independent, intelligent, capable Victorian heroine we want to see succeed. She’s supported by a cast of suitors who you will root for, ache for, and despise. As for production value, Far from the Madding Crowd is a feast for the eyes. The cinematography is a thing of beauty to behold. To be honest, I had shied away from this film for many years–mainly because I’d been burned by Hardy decades earlier in college having been assigned to read Jude the Obscure. I will never forget that depressing, miserable experience for the rest of my life and wasn’t keen to tread those waters again. I’m glad I reconsidered and finally sat down to watch this adaptation. I won’t lie to you, I did have a good cry for a long while after the credits rolled, but in this case, it was well worth the tears. 

A Tale of Two Darcys

...in which two memorable portrayals of Jane Austen's quintessential hero, Pride & Prejudice’s Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, are weighed against each other.

Pride & Prejudice

1995

PG

5 hours and 27 minutes

BBC

Directed by Simon Langton

Screenplay by Andrew Davies

Starring Colin Firth, Jennifer Ehle, Susannah Harker, Julia Sawalha, Alison Steadman, Benjamin Whitrow

vs. 

Pride & Prejudice 

2005

PG

2 hours and 9 minutes

Focus Features

Directed by Joe Wright

Screenplay by Deborah Moggach and Emma Thompson

Starring Matthew Macfadyen, Keira Knightley, Brenda Blethyn, Donald Sutherland, Judi Dench, Rosamund Pike, Tom Hollander

Sparks fly when spirited Elizabeth Bennet meets single, rich, and proud Mr. Darcy. But Mr. Darcy reluctantly finds himself falling in love with a woman beneath his class. Can each overcome their own pride and prejudice? [IMDB]

On this issue, I am not torn -- though I'm certain I am in the minority of opinion. OK, here goes: Jumping without a net. *deep breath* The Darcy I love best of all Darcys is Matthew Macfadyen's Darcy...not Colin Firth's. (Don't get your petticoats in a twist just yet, I have some compelling reasons to plead my case.)

While 1995's Pride & Prejudice miniseries comes complete with six lengthy episodes to tell the beloved tale, the 2005 full-length feature film adaptation has just over two hours. Naturally, it goes without saying, this affords the miniseries a much greater opportunity to tell the story in detail. This doesn’t automatically make the miniseries better than the film; it does, however, make for an unbalanced comparison. So, for the purposes of this post, I’ll be sticking to each of the Darcy performances without running off on too many tangents, which--if you knew me--is no small feat. 

When the 1995 miniseries premiered, it had many a Janeite reaching for her smelling salts. Literary ladies far and wide were positively swooning over Colin Firth’s portrayal of Fitzwilliam Darcy. The series launched his career into the stratosphere, inspired a bombardment of fanfic (obscure and noteworthy alike), a resurgence of the Jane Austen fandom, and saw Firth resume his role of sorts in the inspired-by-P&P book-to-film Bridget Jones’ Diary (and its subsequent sequels). No matter what Firth does for the rest of his life, his name will always be mentioned in conjunction with that now iconic dip he took in Pemberley’s pond. 

Mr. Darcy post dip in Permberley's pond. Photo: BBC. 

Humor me, while I veer a little off course to discuss that famous scene. Austen devotees, of course, know Darcy’s venture into skinny dipping wasn’t in the original work. For those of you who are fans of the miniseries, but haven’t yet read the book, that scene was completely invented by screenwriter Andrew Davies who has gone on to inject many unnecessary and overt sexed-up scenes into his adaptations of Jane Austen’s works. For reference, I point you to his imagining of the sexual encounter between Willoughby and Col. Brandon’s ward in the 2008 miniseries adaptation of Sense & Sensibility; and the rather scandalous depictions of sexual activity in the multi-series Sanditon, which is loosely based on Austen’s unfinished novel. I say loosely because only 12 chapters of Sanditon were written before her untimely death in 1817. I still have not been able to get through Davies' series out of respect for Dear Jane. (I shudder to think what will happen if he gets his hands on The Watsons.)

Davies seems rather determined to sex up most of his costume dramas wherein only passing allusions were made in the source material from which he bases his screenplays. Like Jane, I’m not opposed to depictions of sexual activity. On the contrary, the 2023 adaptation of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, for instance, was extremely explicit; it was also a beautiful work of art. As for Austen, well, she was no prude to be sure; she enjoyed Clarissa and Tom Jones as much as the next gal. I do, however, take umbrage when sex is thrown in where it doesn’t belong to suit the tastes of modern audiences. I believe loyalty should favor the author’s original vision and not present-day preferences.

Now whose petticoat is in a twist? Getting back on track… It wouldn’t be out of left field to describe Firth’s Darcy as a stiff, staid, and stoic portrayal almost entirely throughout. He plays this role with a rather firm hand over the six episodes. It’s not until the scene in which Elizabeth receives news about her youngest sister Lydia’s impending elopement that we see Firth relax his vice-like grip on stoicism and display overt regard for the object of his affection. At times, he seems entirely devoid of human emotion, almost robotic. I suspect that was a purposeful interpretation, a means to justly convey what would today be termed as social anxiety. It’s not to say there isn’t fodder for this interpretation in the source material–Darcy is all of those things, but there’s more to him if we look a bit deeper.

Darcy is oft-accused of being stuffy, snobby, and aloof; I give the sentiments he expresses in his first proposal of marriage as evidence to please the court. However, there’s more evidence to prove the opposite. Darcy is actually a painfully shy, caring, and principled man. These qualities are revealed in the passing details we get from reliable witnesses who observe Darcy’s behavior firsthand in settings where he's more comfortable to let down his guard. Take for example the protective care and concern for his sister, the generous and attentive regard he has for his tenants, his brotherly devotion to Bingley (however misguided and poorly managed his attempts to save him from a mismatch were), and, not least of all, the role he played in making sure Lydia’s reputation wouldn't be irreparably damaged by hers and Wickham's rash cohabitation. 

Throughout the book, Austen drops numerous hints that Darcy is in love with Elizabeth long before she becomes aware of her own feelings. This is true of the film adaptations as well. However, I do think that these hints were emphasized with a bit more finesse in the 2005 screenplay, which is what may have induced Macfadyen to play Darcy a bit softer, somewhat forlorn, and certainly more sympathetic. Macfadyen’s portrayal gives us a suffering Darcy–not simply due to his unrequited love, but because he feels trapped by his inability to emote the way others do. This comes through on an emotional and physical level in the post-dinner scene at Rosings when he confesses to Elizabeth that “I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before.”

Darcy confesses his insecurities to Elizabeth. Photo: Focus Features

Now, as for invented scenes, the 2005 film is guilty as well. One of the earliest moments we see Darcy’s growing affection for Elizabeth is just after the Netherfield ball as he takes her hand to help her into the carriage. This is subtle, and respectfully done, albeit entirely absent from the source material. We must remember that this was a time period of strict social etiquette; men and women weren’t permitted to touch one another except on the dancefloor. (Why do you think Dear Jane was so keen to attend every ball she could?) As far as what Austen would have thought of this scene…well, I like to think she would have approved. 

(Fun Fact: Macfadyen’s now famous and beloved “hand-flex” scene wasn’t actually in the script. It was improvised during production. Isn’t it lovely when movie magic happens?) 

Small as it is, what this scene does is illustrate visually what Austen was implying about the internal conflict Darcy has regarding his shortcomings and the pressures on him to make a desirable match. He’s at odds with himself to fulfill his societal and familial duty while wanting to break free from his constraints (his own and those imposed upon him). 

Before I sum up, let’s take a moment to compare the second proposal scenes in each adaptation. The 1995 version is a very literal representation of the book; ordinarily, I am in favor of remaining as true to the author's vision as possible. But, when changes are made for cinematic purposes and done so with great respect for the original work, diversions can be forgiven. In the miniseries, Darcy proposes to Elizabeth a second time with absolutely no fuss. Austen likely penned the second proposal as a quiet affair because the first one was so painfully dramatic and awkward. Furthermore, by this time in the narrative, Darcy and Elizabeth know way more about one another and their love is mutual. Not to mention, they’re the only two in possession of their happy secret. (That is except for Lady Catherine, who was very clearly on to something.) Firth and Ehle happen into engagement on their walk toward Mereton easily and effortlessly, as if nothing especially important happened that day.

Darcy and Elizabeth give love a second chance. Photo: BBC

The 2005 version had other plans for moviegoers. Without the creative license taken by director Joe Wright and his team, we’d have been robbed of the crescendo that is Macfadyen’s Darcy striding through the field near Longbourn at dawn set to that absolutely glorious score by Dario Marianelli.  When he reaches his destination and stands in front of Elizabeth in the chill morning air with the sun rising behind them, he delivers the lines with such gentle, besotted regard you can feel the love flowing like a wave within him. The scene is an absolute treasure; pause it and any frame is suitable for hanging in a gallery. It makes the ideal setting for a Darcy that is romance personified. For all these reasons, and more, this Darcy holds a special place in my nerdy bookish heart. 

Darcy determinedly makes his way to declare his love to Elizabeth. Photo: Focus Features

So, do you agree? Or, do you disagree vehemently and think I’ve lost the plot? Maybe you could go either way? Let me know in the comments section which Darcy you favor and why.