Willow ,'Never Leave Me'
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Just went and read Holden's review of the new P&P, and... OK.
When this 20-year-old star is on the screen, which is much of the time, you can barely take your eyes off her. Her radiance so suffuses the film that it's foolish to imagine Elizabeth would be anyone's second choice.
That's almost in the Roger Ebert-drooling over-Angelina Jolie territory. Favorable and fair review in other ways though, so that's cautiously encouraging.
Terry Gilliam may be able to to get his Don Quixote movie back in production.
Wow, so, after 31 reviews, P&P has an 83 on Metacritic. As a serious metacritic follower, I can tell you that that is ridiculously high. I'm actually very, very surprised, as I expected this movie to fail at being good, but, well, maybe not.
ETA: That makes it the 5th highest score currently on metacritic, behind Wallace and Grommit, Capote, Grizzly Man, and tied with Corpse Bride (but with fewer reviews).
Nobody has yet topped Anthony Lane's hilarious disdain in the New Yorker.
His review seemed remarkably positive, to me. The thing that bothered me was this observation:
The question is not whether the director was justified in that transmutation but whether he had the choice; whether any of us, as moviemakers, viewers, or readers, retain the ability—not so much the scholarly equipment as the imaginative clairvoyance—to see Austen clearly. Maybe we are doomed to view her through the smoked glass of the intervening centuries, during which the spirit of romance, and the role of the body within it, have evolved out of all recognition.
Implying that Austen's book was typical of contemporaneous books; that novels were all comedies of manners until the Brontes came in and blew us all away with the very first overheated romances. Which is ahistorical horseshit that fundamentally misconceives the inherent satire in P&P as an irony that's only developed recently.
Implying that [...] novels were all comedies of manners until the Brontes came in and blew us all away with the very first overheated romances.
I didn't infer the same way you did; but you're right, that is an ahistorical horseshit thesis. I was quite surprised when I read Sir Walter Scott (whom Austen read plenty) and found that he was a total beach read. Like Alexandre Dumas, except several decades previous.
Actually, not to leap wildly over into Literary or anything, but it's long surprised me that romance readers, who tend to go wild for Austen, do not seem to have any interest in the emotional fulminations of Scott or Dumas. Is it the plot they have to wade through, to get to the tearful confessions of worship? I suppose Dumas' own wordiness might be a check to the ordinary romance reader as well.
As a romance reader, I feel I would enjoy the stories of Scott or Dumas, but as you suspect above, I can't quite stand to read them, while Austen (to me) is very readable. Of course, I also think Wuthering Heights is a better story than a book, as I can hardly stand reading it, but I love the atmosphere and the moors and the doomed romance.
P&P has gotten very strong, positive reviews in Salon, Slate, NYTimes & the Chron.
I doubt it will replace the Firth miniseries in the hearts of hardcote Austenians, but it does seem to be a creditable version.
The impression I'm getting is that it's a good movie, but a poor adaptation. Which is fine, even if it probably means I won't like it.
Of course, I also think Wuthering Heights is a better story than a book, as I can hardly stand reading it, but I love the atmosphere and the moors and the doomed romance.
Bingo. One of these days I should try re-reading Wuthering Heights, and see if I still want to shake some sense into the main characters, or if I can ignore their AMAZINGLY stupid behavior and just be gleeful about the over-the-top gothness of the book.
One of these days I should try re-reading Wuthering Heights, and see if I still want to shake some sense into the main characters, or if I can ignore their AMAZINGLY stupid behavior
Substitute Tess of the D'Ubervilles for Wuthering Heights, and this is me. I was supposed to read Tess for my Victorian Lit class, but ending up tossing it across the room in sheer frustration with that whiny bitch of a title character. The only novel that I enjoyed in that class was Alice in Wonderland (got on A on that paper, too!).