in which I eat crow

I have a confession to make: last Sunday afternoon I went to the movies and I enjoyed myself. No, I’m not guilt-ridden because I went to the cinema, or even because I went on a Sunday (though I have no doubt my grandfather would not have been impressed). The problem is that I enjoyed the particular movie I saw: Pride and Prejudice. That’s right. I, an avowed Jane Austen hater, enjoyed the latest film version of one of her novels. Someone check the sky for flying swine.

Before we get too carried away, let me explain. I grew up with older sisters who read and loved all the typical older sister books: the Anne of Green Gables series, the Brontes, the random trashy romance, and, of course, Jane Austen (Zane Gray being the notable exception). Being a typical younger brother, I ridiculed them for reading such “girly” books at every opportunity. The summer before I entered eighth grade I was going after one of them (I think Jen) for reading Austen when she very reasonably asked me if I had ever read any. I was crestfallen because she was right. That day I dug up a copy of Pride and Prejudice and started. I was determined to finish it, and though it took me three years, I did. My general pattern was to read steadily for about two weeks, get so angry I would throw the book across my bedroom, go back to reading Horatio Hornblower for a few months, then return to Austen in my dogged determination to get the moral high ground on my sisters. I finally finished the stupid thing, and guess what showed up on the syllabus for my 12^th grade world lit class – that’s right. I’ve since raised my repertoire of Austen novels to two because I had to read Persuasion in college.

I don’t want to alienate the entire female gender, so let me elaborate on my frustration. I respect Austen, I just don’t like reading her novels. The whole cultural satire thing – brilliant. She investigates societal gender roles and their implications generations before those sorts of discussions became commonplace. Furthermore, she’s a good writer. Her dialogue is snappy and witty (or at least as snappy as Victorian English people can get), and she finds the right balance between exhaustive over-description and stark narrative. But here’s the problem: her characters drive me up the wall. I wanted to get all of them together in one room and make them talk to each other like normal, functional human beings. Why doesn’t Jane Bennet simply tell Mr. Bingly that she wants to marry him and have lots and lots of babies, and why doesn’t Mr. Bingly bother to simply ask Jane if she’s interested before running away to London? Is this too much to ask? (And I understand that in Victorian England it probably was too much.) For me, reading Austen is an exercise in controlling frustration and about as relaxing and enjoyable as a long distance run – after a short while I just don’t see the point.

And so back to Sunday, when SJ and I were going to meet to see The Constant Gardener. It wasn’t showing until late, so (God only knows why) I thought it might be ok to see Pride and Prejudice. I had heard good things and was interested in seeing if Keira Knightly is really an actress or just another pretty face, but ultimately my motivation was probably the same I had in reading the book years ago. However, the movie was great. However, the movie was great. Many of the same old frustrations surfaced, but in the relatively short time frame of a movie they’re more bearable. The supporting characters were extremely well acted, especially Donald Sutherland’s Mr. Bennet, Claudie Blakley’s Charlotte, Judi Dench’s Lady Catherine, Talulah Riley’s Mary, and Jena Malone’s deliciously horrible Lydia. If my memory serves, a great deal of the dialogue was taken directly from the book, and if not it was a good approximation.

Despite that, the film would have never worked for me if not for the way the two key figures, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, were portrayed. I’ve spent hours of my life arguing that they are two of the most overrated characters in all of literature, but for the first time, while watching this film, I sympathized with them. It all seemed somehow more believable. Knightly can indeed act, and her Elizabeth was introspective and thoughtful where the Elizabeth I remember was haughty and downright foolish (it helped that in the movie she didn’t fall nearly as hard for the pathetically transparent Mr. Wickham). Lest you think I’ve had a complete turn around I can assure you I’m not going to pick up the novel any time soon. However, I’ll conclude by saying the film was an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon, which is more than I ever thought I would be able to say about an Austen story.