Sense and Sensibility (2008)

 

I’ll admit to having a “definitive” adaptation for most Jane Austen novels, and for Sense and Sensibility, as with the majority of her books, I consider that definitive version to be the one made in the ‘90s. Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet, yes, please! But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate other adaptations for what they bring, even if they don’t capture the book as well on the whole for me. This miniseries was part of Masterpiece’s 2007-2008 Jane Austen extravaganza, and personally, there’s a fair amount to like here.

After the death of their father, estate law forces the Dashwood sisters Elinor and Marianne (along with their mother and younger sister) into severely reduced means.  Elinor is steady, practical, and self-denying, while Marianne is passionate and impulsive with a lust for the romantic.  As they adjust to their new circumstances, the sisters approach life and love through the particular views of their wildly different temperaments.

We’ll start with the adaptation itself and then move onto some particulars of the cast. This version borrows certain elements from the 1995 script, such as the scrappier interpretation of Margaret, and some of its own inventions, like the misguided attempt to give Mr. Ferrars a Mr.-Darcy-in-the-lake-style “wet hunk” moment, fall flat. However, it also takes advantage of the added length to include some good book scenes, like Willoughby and Marianne’s visit to Allenham and the dinner with Mrs. Ferrars. Additionally, I feel like this adaptation does a better job laying the groundwork for one of the endgame relationships in the piece, even though I do still greatly enjoy the 1995 performances.

The cast is a mixed bag for me. Hattie Morahan and Charity Wakefield are both very good as Eleanor and Marianne, although both sometimes feel specifically designed to evoke memories of the 1995 cast, Morahan in particular – if you close your eyes, you’d swear you were listening to Emma Thompson. This miniseries was my first introduction to Dan Stevens – who I’d go on to like in Downton Abbey, love in Beauty and the Beast, and adore in Legion – and he makes a nice Mr. Ferrars. His energy in the role is very different to Hugh Grant’s lovable bundle of awkwardness from the movie, but I still get Mr. Ferrars vibes off of him. Other highlights include Linda Bassett (Call the Midwife’s Nurse Crane, which I didn’t realize until I rewatched the miniseries before this review) as Mrs. Jennings and Daisy Haggard (Sophie from the “Craig” episodes of Doctor Who,) who’s an absolute stitch as Anne Steele. Anne is a character who wasn’t included in the movie, but she’s a positive Plymouth delight here.

Dominic Cooper is admittedly effective as the cad side of Mr. Willoughby, but I feel like he’s the sort of actor who I’m programed to recognize as a cad, which makes it harder for me to buy his more sincere side – as soon as he comes along, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Meanwhile, David Morrissey doesn’t quite do it for me as Col. Brandon. He reads younger than Alan Rickman did in the movie (although, I looked it up, and he only would’ve been a few years younger than Rickman was when they respectively played the role,) but I don’t find his love for Marianne as affecting. And I know the Palmers are technically small roles, but Tim McMullan and Tabitha Wady make very little impression in the miniseries, considering how much of a riot Hugh Laurie and Imelda Staunton were in the 1995 version. Maybe the miniseries focused all its broad comedy on Anne Steele?

Those are the main performances worth mentioning, although there are certainly other actors here of note. Like most British period pieces worth its salt, it’s crammed with familiar faces. We have Ron Weasley’s dad (Mark Williams) as Sir John Middleton, Mycroft Holmes (Mark Gatiss) as John Dashwood, Janet McTeer as Mrs. Dashwood, and Claire Skinner (Madge from Who’s “The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe) as Fanny Dashwood. Gotta love the good ole British-acting mainstays.

Warnings

Suggestiveness, brief violence, and some drinking. 

Favorite Characters: Elinor Dashwood (Sense and Sensibility)

I love every Austen heroine – some more than others, true, but each one in her own way – and for my money, you can’t go wrong with Elinor Dashwood.  What a champ, a young woman who has way more than her fair share in the “stuff to deal with” department and powers through it all (Elinor-related spoilers.)

Like its sister “aptly named after two strong, alliterative personality traits” book, Sense and Sensibility puts the contrast between its lead characters right out in the open.  But this time, rather than being our unlikely potential lovers, they’re the two sisters who form the basis the story.  Marianne is all about her romantic sensibilities and fly-away passions, and really, Mrs. Dashwood’s temperament suggests that Marianne comes by it honestly, and Margaret isn’t far behind.  With the rest of the family stacked so thoroughly on one side of the scales, it’s up to Elinor to provide the sense.

Which she does, in spades, despite a wall of protests.  When her father dies with no choice but to settle his whole estate on her stepbrother, Elinor goes about finding accommodations modest enough to serve her mother, her sisters, and herself in their new reduced circumstances.  When Marianne throws herself wholeheartedly (and I mean wholeheartedly, with the whole of her heart) into love, Elinor is the one who urges decorum and at least tries to advise that Marianne might not want to rush into things so blatantly.

Because her mother and sisters enjoy stuff like eyeing houses they can’t afford and shouting their love from the rooftops, this paints Elinor as the total killjoy, the one who rains on everyone’s parades with her wearisome practicality.  Also, because Marianne is so unrestrained in her feelings, she looks at the more reserved Elinor and sees someone without any feelings at all.  Marianne can’t imagine not putting her every emotion on full and immediate display, and so she wheedles Elinor for being cold (in what is probably the only comparison to be made between Jane Austen and Arrested Development, it’s a little like the other Bluths calling Michael a robot.)

When, in actual fact, Elinor is anything but emotionless.  She feels deeply, and even though you wouldn’t know it to look at her, I dare say Elinor’s feelings oppress her more than Marianne’s, because she pushes them down instead of releasing them.  When she learns about Edward and Lucy’s secret engagement, killing whatever reticent hopes she’d been nursing toward him, it absolutely kills her, and she can’t tell anyone.  Throughout the majority of the book, she’s the textbook image of a stiff upper lip, quietly keeping on as her heart breaks inside her.  And all the while, she has to listen as Lucy not-so-subtly marks her territory with feigned sweetness, and she takes Marianne’s petulant digs about how Elinor just doesn’t understand her and Willoughby because Elinor has no idea what it’s like to feel so much for someone.  When the news of the engagement is finally known to all, it’s such an enormous weight to lift off.  Because, at last, as Marianne presses Elinor and needles her about why she didn’t say anything, Elinor reaches her breaking point and finally lets loose in a glorious, page-long tumble of pent-up emotion that is just stunningly cathartic to read.  That’s my girl.

Sense and Sensibility (1995, PG)

It’s hard to find a perfect Jane Austen movie/miniseries; that careful balance of topnotch acting, adapting, directing, and cinematic entertainment doesn’t come along as often as it should.  As such, every adaptation has some quibbles, but that doesn’t stop me from liking virtually all of them and loving most of them.  Although there’s a lot to love about the various Sense and Sensibilities, this one, for me, is the quintessential version.

Assuming I’ll get around to reviewing lots of Austen adaptations eventually, I think I may reuse this paragraph later as standard Sense and Sensibility summary.  After the death of their father, estate law forces the Dashwood sisters Elinor and Marianne (along with their mother and younger sister) into severely reduced means.  Elinor is steady, practical, and self-denying, while Marianne is passionate and impulsive with a lust for the romantic.  As they adjust to their new circumstances, the sisters approach life and love through the particular views of their wildly different temperaments. 

The adaptation is penned by Emma Thompson, doing double duty as Elinor, and even though it takes some dramatic license, it feels Austen throughout, so much so that I’ve seen other adaptations of this story do their own variations of scenes that Thompson invented wholesale.  Indeed, some of her revisions are very welcome, like giving youngest sister Margaret a separate personality distinct from Marianne’s and adding in some nice exchanges that really show why Elinor would fall for Edward.  Ang Lee’s direction maintains that fine Austenian tug between arch satire and earnest romantic drama, and the period backdrop never feels staid or stuffy.

There are some similarly fabulous casting knockouts.  First off, I know that Thompson is too old for Elinor here, and the steep age difference between Kate Winslet and Alan Rickman makes it hard to consider Col. Brandon as a serious contender for Marianne’s heart.  That said, all of them are so wonderful in their roles that I wilfully ignore these logistical issues.  Thompson in particular is just stunning – her big something’s-gotta-give moment in the second half of the film is gorgeous.  Winslet’s Marianne is an immature but ardent firecracker, and Rickman brings such gentle care to Brandon.  Meanwhile, Hugh Grant is reliably awkward-in-a-cute-way as Edward, and Greg Wise might be my favorite onscreen Willoughby ever.  The supporting cast sparkles with humor.  Particularly noteworthy are Harriet Walter as greedy, snobbish stepsister-in-law Fanny and the hilarious one-two punch of Imelda Staunton and Hugh Laurie as the Palmers.

Some especially well-realized scenes include, as already mentioned, Elinor’s confrontation with Marianne, along with Fanny and John’s discussion about “helping” his stepsisters, Col. Brandon’s first sight of Marianne at the piano, and Willoughby’s entrance and introduction to the Dashwoods.  Despite some departures from the source material and some technicality problems in the casting, this movie is just Sense and Sensibility all the way, and every time I watch it, I wonder why that book isn’t higher on my list of favorite Austen novels (the answer is that there’s simply too many good ones, and in this case, even being fourth of six is still incredibly good.)

Warnings

References to sexual content (out-of-wedlock children, that kind of thing.)