Remember long, long ago when I promised a post in which I defended my claim that the Keira Knightley
Pride and Prejudice is for people who wish that Charlotte Bronte, not Jane Austen, had written the novel? Well, I have a few free minutes this afternoon (read: Clara is watching a DVD and I don't have to cook dinner tonight), so I'll finally make good on that promise.
First, let me say this is not a critique or review of the film
per se; I simply want to talk about why the film is not really reflective of Jane Austen and her art. Also, even though I loved Jane Austen as a teenager and found her novels to be something of a revelation, I'm really not what's called a Janeite--I don't idolize Austen or obsess over her. In fact, people who do seem weird to me because I don't think that they really know what Austen was about: women who are obsessed with Colin Firth after his performance in the 1995
Pride and Prejudice are enjoying Austen for strange and self-centered reasons. But I really do think that Austen is one of the best literary artists in English. And
Pride and Prejudice, while maybe not her greatest novel (I personally think
Emma is), is perhaps her best plot. It's so simple! And yet, she combines it with such masterfully subtle characterization . . .
Back to my point. Though there are a few who would argue otherwise, Austen was not a Romantic. She doesn't share the Romantic view of nature, of humans, or of human relationships--love in particular. But the Keira Knightley film ignores all of this and turns
Pride and Prejudice into tale of stormy passion that Charlotte Bronte would have been proud to call her own. By the way, do you know what Bronte said about Austen?
She said, "[Jane Austen] does her business of delineating the surface of the lives of genteel English people curiously well. There is a Chinese fidelity, a miniature delicacy, in the painting. She ruffles her reader by nothing vehement, disturbs him with nothing profound. The passions are perfectly unknown to her: she rejects even a speaking acquaintance with that stormy sisterhood ... What sees keenly, speaks aptly, moves flexibly, it suits her to study: but what throbs fast and full, though hidden, what the blood rushes through, what is the unseen seat of life and the sentient target of death--this Miss Austen ignores."
While I don't think Bronte's assessment of Austen entirely fair, it does serve to highlight the differences between the two authors. Austen was interested in the observing the details of life--details which revealed (as they concealed) that which was passionate and profound. She never deals with passion, as such. She never glories in "what throbs fast and full," though she does recognize the existence of the passions, and the need to control them if one was to enjoy loving communion with others--in man-woman relationships but also in family relationships. While Austen continually exposes the follies of individuals which mar their family, friend, and romantic relationships, she is also hopeful regarding the possibility of human happiness within relationships, particularly marriage. But she certainly doesn't, like Bronte, think that strength of passion is the key to happiness--however fleeting it may be--in relationships. For Austen, happiness in relationships can be expected of those who have learned something from their interaction with the world; specifically, they have learned something about themselves and their selfishness and fallibility.
And here's where the Keira Knightley
Pride and Prejudice film goes wrong. "The passions . . . that stormy sisterhood" are exalted in the film. Just think about the way Elizabeth talks to her parents when her mother attempts to marry her to Collins: "You can't make me!" she shouts at them. Or what Darcy says when he proposes to Elizabeth the second time: "You have captivated me body and soul." You know what he says in the novel? He tells her, "My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever." Now, I'm not one of those who thinks that films must perfectly adhere to the novel, but here is a change which transforms the nature of the love between Darcy and Elizabeth. It becomes a mighty passion which takes control of Darcy, "body and soul" rather than a love which has learned to respect and regard the beloved as it had not done before.
Another way that the film transforms the novel into a Romantic tale is through the settings. In the film, Darcy first proposes to Elizabeth in the midst of the pouring rain during a thunderstorm under the shelter of some neo-Classical edifice overlooking a lake. How very expressive of the passions they both must be feeling! In the novel, he proposes in the Collins' small house. How very expressive of the restraint both are under when relating to one another--restraint which is only momentarily broken, to the later chagrin of both. The second proposal scene takes place on a misty moor (straight from Bronte, lover of the wild moors!) at the break of dawn where both Elizabeth and Darcy are wandering, unable to rest due to their overwhelming passion for one another. In the novel, Darcy proposes for the second time as he and Elizabeth are left alone on their walk by the departure of Kitty and the slow pace of Jane and Bingley. Neither seeks the other out in restless passion. Their romance occurs in the context of Elizabeth's very mundane family life, the presence of which is so important in the formation of their love.
The film and the novel share a basic plot in common, but, honestly, little else. It's fine to enjoy one or the other, or both, but let's not get them confused!
Clara is begging me for snuggles. So that's all!
