One of the things I really admire in Kate Winslet's portrayal of Marianne is that we see right away, in her, the woman she may become, under her youthful tunnel-vision about romance. We are, in fact, impatient with her sometimes - we want her to move ahead into the lovely fullness of heart and character we see just ahead of her. And she digs in her heels, hanging back in her adolescence and its errors of perception and judgement.
But she is as good-hearted as she is young. Her first serious breach of decorum (outside family) is to distract her hosts from joking about Elinor's "Mr. F." When she drags Margaret out to walk, it is to give Elinor emotional space, and alone time with their mother, after Edward has sent the atlas instead of bringing it.
In the novel, there is no precipitate occurrence, but, dramatically speaking, it would be a shame not to create an illustrative one. Of course, in the 2008, version, the circumstance is - another! - uninvited descent upon the house by Brandon, but this illustrates Marianne's pettiness, not any positive quality, and certainly not Marianne's love for her sister and sensitivity to her need for space to assimilate the disappointment.
So young, Winslet was, but it is the performance of an actress already well-matured in skill and human understanding.
The portrayal of her growth, her blooming quietly into restored health and greater self-understanding, the clarity and economy with which we see her beginning, and continuing, in appreciation for Colonel Brandon, her feeling of peace, contentment, and safety in his company, is as subtle as a sigh, yet as detailed as a Vermeer - the painter I always think of in connection with this film.
Of course, the fine script and Ang Lee's miracle of direction must have helped her enormously in drawing such a portrait, but major kudos to Winslet, say I.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
Very well put locus! I completely agree, there are times I'd like to shake "some sense" into Marianne, but she does do little things that show her love for her family along the way. I too draw such satisfaction in her slow, quiet, blossoming into regained health, and new maturity with the nurturing presence of Brandon at her side.
Of course, the fine script and Ang Lee's miracle of direction must have helped her enormously in drawing such a portrait, but major kudos to Winslet, say I.
I couldn't agree more. All aspects of writing, directing, and acting came together to form a wonderfully entertaining character and viewing experience.
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Thanks, webrowser! Interestingly, I found myself feeling much more indulgent toward Charity Wakefield's Marianne - she seemed such a child that her petulance signified no more than Margaret's might. But also much less engaged by her; she is charming, but she doesn't interest me as to her personal development and ultimate fate. And she remains childlike to the end. Wakefield is adorable, no doubt about it, but, despite being about 7 years older than Winslet when she played the role, there is nothing, not a hint, of the adult woman about her Marianne, ever. I really do, and always did, miss that in the 2008.
I'll say it once more - the 1995 S&S is a great film. It is also a great adaptation, and (heretic that I am), in some ways an improvement on the novel, especially in the Brandon of Alan Rickman, who fleshes out so beautifully a shadowy character in the novel. Heck, I even think the choice of Christian name (Christopher, one of my favorites) a lovely touch.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
Interesting points Locus. I always think of Marianne as being a Romantic opposed to being 'romantic'. Her love and appreciation of nature plays into this. Like the time she is rapturously exclaiming;
, “Oh! with what transporting sensations have I formerly seen them fall! How have I delighted, as I walked, to see them driven in showers about me by the wind! What feelings have they, the season, the air altogether inspired! Now there is no one to regard them. They are seen only as a nuisance, swept hastily off, and driven as much as possible from the sight.” At which the cooler Elinor replies quietly, “It is not everyone who has your passion for dead leaves.”
One gets the feeling that Marianne has been reading too much Wordsworth. But I like that openness in Marianne, I like that she doesn't hide her feelings. Of course she takes it to extremes, just as Elinor takes her 'sense' to extremes. Do you not think that Austen is advocating the middle ground between the sisters. Elinor marries for a world well lost for love, Marianne marries for respect and great esteem. But both sisters love and appreciate their husbands in the end. All of this is in the book and film of course. As you so rightly say, Wakefield's Marianne is never allowed to grow up. She is kept as a child till the very end. Her traumas do not come close to matching what happens to Winslett's Marianne. Winslett's Marianne has sufferings that are all too real, and it's clearly shown that she is paying a high price for whatever follies she committed.
_____________ I am the Queen of Snark, TStopped said so.
I always think of Marianne as being a Romantic opposed to being 'romantic'. Her love and appreciation of nature plays into this. Like the time she is rapturously exclaiming: "Oh! with what transporting sensations have I formerly seen them fall! How have I delighted, as I walked, to see them driven in showers about me by the wind! What feelings have they, the season, the air altogether inspired! Now there is no one to regard them. They are seen only as a nuisance, swept hastily off, and driven as much as possible from the sight." At which the cooler Elinor replies quietly, “It is not everyone who has your passion for dead leaves.”
One gets the feeling that Marianne has been reading too much Wordsworth. But I like that openness in Marianne, I like that she doesn't hide her feelings. Of course she takes it to extremes, just as Elinor takes her 'sense' to extremes. Do you not think that Austen is advocating the middle ground between the sisters.
Marianne and Elinor are possibly the first ever intentional use of the "Red Oni, Blue Oni" trope. Marianne is the typical Red Oni (emotional, impulsive and a hopeless romantic), while Elinor is the typical Blue Oni (reserved, composed, wise and so prudent). But yes, it seems like Jane Austen wanted both of them to find the middle ground between the two extremes. reply share
Fanny then replies, “Love is all very well, but unfortunately we cannot always rely on the heart to lead us in the most suitable directions.”
Interesting Sass, It could be considered a bit of subtle foreshadowing in Marianne's folly with Willoughby.
All my thoughts are in reference to the 95 film only.
Fanny meant her statement only from a cold financial perspective. Her idea of a "good match" for her brother had little to do with a person's character, and everything to do with their income. Fanny was of poor character, so she didn't seem to particularly value good character in others - she seemed drawn to those with the same flaws of character she displayed. She adored Lucy, until she discovered she was engaged to Edward, then she despised her. If Lucy would have had wealth, she'd have been delighted.
Whereas if Elinor were to say the same line, her main point of concern would be in the worthiness of a person's character. She's very aware that a decent income is nice, and makes life easier - but good character is the most important quality consider, and seek in an forming an attachment.
Marianne made the mistake of "following ONLY her heart" when she rushed into an attachment with Willoughby. She did not take the important step of thinking before she acted. Because of her immaturity, she judged on outer appearances alone. She did not take the time to find out his true character, even though Elinor warned her that they "knew so little of him." Marianne pooh-poohed Elinor's caution, and barreled ahead into disaster.
In the 1995 film, Marianne’s marriage to Brandon proves that she has learned to NOT “rely on [her] heart to lead [her] in the most suitable directions.”
I think there is one important item that needs to be added to your statement. IMO the lesson Marianne learned was to NOT "rely ONLY on [her] heart to lead [her] in the most suitable directions." She learned that emotions are wonderful, but they shouldn't be the only thing guiding a person's decisions - one needs to also use one's head. Before her disappointment with Willoughby, her immaturity did not allow her to see the value of Brandon's good character. Once she looked at Brandon with wiser eyes, Marianne became aware of his inherent goodness, and grew to greatly esteem him. On this solid foundation of deep regard, and friendship, she marries him. And in the closing of that last happy scene, I always smile, because I know in my heart that she will grow to love him as deeply as he loves her, and they will both be very happy. reply share
If the line is supposed to be “subtle foreshadowing” (and I agree with you that it does serve this purpose), then why is it spoken by Fanny Dashwood, of all people?
I mentioned how the meaning would be different if Elinor had said it, to illustrate the different context - and therefore showing why Thompson had Fanny say it. I don't know if it was intended to be foreshadowing. I only know that it could be seen as such. The reason it is spoken by Fanny is two-fold, IMO. Firstly, it's an ironic statement considering that we are very well aware that Elinor is very suitable for Edward. And this statement is another example of Fanny's very warped view of what is valuable and important. Elinor is heads and shoulders above Fanny in character, yet she thinks Elinor is below her. And the satisfaction is that the villian with all her haughty airs, still ends up with Elinor as her SIL - which hardly supports Fanny's point of view IMO.
Well, in the 1995 film, it seems that they know about as much of Willoughby as they know of Brandon or Edward (neither of whom are on screen long enough)
I disagree. They have Sir John's high opinion of Brandon, and the long history of his acquaintance with Brandon to help recommend him. They also spent time with Edward before moving to Barton cottage. The respect, and consideration he showed all of them, especially Margaret, showed us and them his kind character.
Marianne became attached to Willoughby during his first visit. She states that she "feels she knows him already" when she barely knew him at all. Their acquaintance was only a few hours old! Sir John only knows basic information about Willoughby, but he doesn't know his character as he knows Brandon's.
I re-watched S&S 1971
I've never watched it, and therefore can't comment on it.
Do you see any “lightbulb moment” of this sort in S&S 1995?
I do. For me, the moment that Marianne thanks Brandon, from her sick bed, is her "lightbulb" moment. It's subtle, but still so clear, and that's what I love about it. With just those two simple words, I KNEW that she is finally, really, "seeing" him, and appreciating him as he deserves. It's the beginning of her regard for him. And I found it very moving.
I do feel that the adaptation provides assurance of her happiness and the continuing growth of her relationship with Brandon. I feel that S&S 1995 does not give this same assurance.
I know you feel this way, and I'm fine with that. We simply see it differently. I don't feel the way you do about it. S&S 95 shows me everything I needed to see, to give me the assurance of a happy marriage of love for Marianne and Brandon. It was wholly satisfying for me. That's my interpretation, and it always will be.
you have always interpreted the wedding at the end of S&S 1995 as a double wedding, even though this is apparently not what Thompson and Lee intended. But if it is a double wedding, then it kind of makes Winslet’s Marianne look like a gold-digger, at least IMO, because she is wearing fancy, expensive-looking, and over-the-top gown and veil, whereas Elinor is wearing a dress that she actually wore in an earlier scene (IOW, an old gown) with a brown spencer over it.
Yes, it's true I've always thought it was a double wedding. However, I've never seen Marianne as a gold-digger. LUCY is a gold-digger, and I do not see Marianne in that light, and I never will. I've since watched the commentary, and Thompson states that a lot of people think it's Elinor's wedding too. But according to her, Edward and Elinor were already married, and in fact, Edward officiated Brandon and Marianne's wedding. So her dress is certainly appropriate for attending the wedding. Elinor is carrying a bouquet of flowers which added to my initial "bride" impression, but upon closer inspection, Charlotte, Mrs. Jennings, and Fanny, are also carrying bouquets - I just didn't notice it before. Even so, when I thought it was a double wedding, Elinor's more understated dress did not stand out at me. Through the entire film, she is the more reserved, demure sister - so her dress went with my impression of her personality. I've also never thought of Marianne's dress as over-the-top. It's lovely, but all of Austen bride's dresses are lovely. I simply do not have any negative perceptions of S&S 95. Even when you point out the specific things you find flawed, I simply don't see it the way you do.
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I disagree. They have Sir John's high opinion of Brandon, and the long history of his acquaintance with Brandon to help recommend him. They also spent time with Edward before moving to Barton cottage. The respect, and consideration he showed all of them, especially Margaret, showed us and them his kind character.
Marianne became attached to Willoughby during his first visit. She states that she "feels she knows him already" when she barely knew him at all. Their acquaintance was only a few hours old! Sir John only knows basic information about Willoughby, but he doesn't know his character as he knows Brandon's.
This is a good point. In the film we see that Brandon is known, and known well. He isn't a visitor who comes to the area once a year and has a nice dog. He is a well-known and respected neighbour. He is the patron of a village and has a history in the vicinity. Plus he is Sir John's friend and has been for a long time. It's interesting that Sir John really doesn't know Willoughby and he does know Brandon.
_____________ I am the Queen of Snark, TStopped said so.
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It's interesting that Sir John really doesn't know Willoughby and he does know Brandon.
Indeed. Brandon's character, his history, are well known at Barton Park, while all Sir John can come up with about Willoughby is his "bold" riding style and the "smartness" of his female pointer. Not much there . . .
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
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It just shows what men consider important I suppose. It contrasts a great deal from the book where Willoughby asks Sir John about Marianne and is rebuffed. Here we see how knowledge has changed Sir John's mind.
_____________ I am the Queen of Snark, TStopped said so.
I really like your assertion, mainly because I feel Kate Winslet portrays Marianne as Austen WANTS her to be, rather than as she actually portrays. In the book, Austen keeps telling us that Marianne is so sweet, impulsive, loving, etc. etc. but in every scene she actually "appears" in, she comes across as a b**ch, IMHO. So the combination of Winslet's portrayal and Emma Thompson script gives Marianne as Austen intended but did not quite achieve, I think.
Marianne's heart and affections, I think, are very much in the right place, both in the book and the film. But, yes, both the book and film stress that her passionate conviction in the primacy of her own emotional state results in a lot of very inconsiderate, and sometimes downright rude, behavior - I do think this is clear int he book, and one reason Austen has to keep stressing the bedrock goodness of Marianne's heart, under the errors of behavior we see everywhere in her.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
I completely agree. This film shows Marianne becoming a more genuinely mature character than she is in the book. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure that Jane Austen even intended to show Marianne as fundamentally changed -- if this was her intention, then she clearly didn’t succeed. She frequently poked fun even at characters that she obviously liked (Fanny Price, for instance), so I can’t say I’m very surprised that she subjects Marianne, a character that she seems to have thought ridiculous, to her trademark merciless mockery. But it does mean that Marianne isn’t given much of a chance for genuine character growth.
The film is different. After her illness, Kate Winslet’s Marianne seems to have learned to moderate her behavior. Although she still feels deeply, her actions and reactions are no longer extremes. For example, in the scene where she and Elinor are walking in the hills near Barton Cottage, she shows remarkable restraint when talking about Willoughby; she is neither overly sentimental about her experiences (one might argue that Elinor is, given that she exclaims, “Poor Willoughby. He will always regret you.”) nor is she petulant or enraged. She makes no absurd speeches. She quite calmly points out to Elinor (in words that, in the book, were spoken by Elinor) that she knows now that Willoughby was mercenary.
In another scene from the film, the Dashwoods are sitting around the table, and Marianne is quietly working. When the family hears the report that Mr. Ferrars is newly married, Marianne remains calm instead of making a scene. Later, when she receives the pianoforte from Brandon, she appears grateful for the gift but doesn’t go overboard in expressing her delight. She also generously asserts that the piano is not just for her enjoyment, but for everyone’s. Finally, in the scene where Edward arrives at the cottage, Marianne is clearly the calm, mature, perceptive leader during the introductions and subsequent conversation. Of course, even though she has matured, she still has strong emotions and intense loyalty toward her sister, which are evident when she leads the family outside to give Edward a chance to propose to Elinor.
If anything, Marianne’s character growth in the film possibly comes at the expense of Elinor’s. It is Emma Thompson’s Elinor who becomes less and less able to deal with her emotions over the course of the film, and I can certainly understand how this could be taken as a betrayal of Austen’s themes. I personally don’t mind, since I enjoy Marianne’s story at least as much as Elinor’s, and I think the movie’s message of achieving an emotional balance between sense and sensibility is a rather healthy one.
In the novel, this isn’t truly the case. I don’t think that Marianne ever really learns to moderate her emotions, or, if she does, then Austen doesn’t show it. I interpret Marianne in the final chapters in the book merely as contrite and a bit melancholy. She obviously still has strong feelings, but she doesn’t seem to have learned to modulate them or express them appropriately. She means well, but her reactions are still extreme, and, frankly, ridiculous.
For example, when she is talking with Elinor in Chapter 46, Marianne mentions her plans for personal improvement, including her goals of reading for six hours every day of the week (and, apparently, filling most of the other hours with practicing music) and of never rising later than six in the morning. And she implies that she wants to do this for at least a year, and possibly the rest of her life. Frankly, I don’t believe that Marianne -- or, for that matter, most other people -- would be able to adhere to such a rigorous schedule for long, and I think Austen expected readers to find this “course of serious study” rather laughable, as well. Elinor certainly seems to find it silly, as Austen says that “Elinor honoured her for a plan which originated so nobly as this; though smiling to see the same eager fancy which had been leading her to the extreme of languid indolence and selfish repining, now at work in introducing excess into a scheme of such rational employment and virtuous self-control.”
This lack of moderation comes up again in Chapter 47, when the Dashwoods hear that a Mr. Ferrars -- Edward, they assume -- is married. Upon learning of this, Marianne “[falls] back in her chair in hysterics.” So, basically, it is implied that she faints. In contrast to Marianne and her “hysterical” reaction, Elinor, the sister who is in love with Edward and therefore has more of a right to react emotionally to the news, manages to keep calm.
In the book, I guess that we are supposed to mentally fill in the blanks that Austen left. I think I actually prefer the film's take on this subplot. At least it shows Marianne’s emotional maturation. 😃
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
From what I've read, Winslet did actually sing in her S&S 95 scenes. I've seen that a professional singer sang her songs for the movie soundtrack that is available for sale. It seems that some people were disappointed that the soundtrack did not include Winslet's versions of her songs. She also sang in Heavenly Creatures, and in Titanic.
Winslet's singing voice is not professionally developed, and she is a little "breathy;" however, her voice is very pretty, and is neither thin nor weak. I speak from the experience of years of singing training, opera to Broadway. How much have you had?
And at least in this version of S&S, Marianne actually does sing.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
I do not know whether Jennifer Ehle did her own singing - from the sound of it, I would imagine she did; I cannot imagine dubbing another voice to achieve that result. She is . . . reasonably passable, which is fine for Elizabeth, although his admiring it makes Mr. Darcy appear truly besotted. Which is also fine. I find the sound of it disconcerting; oddly hollow and muffled at once. No clarity to the tone.
Kate Beckinsale's voice is light, much less developed than Winslet's, but passable - indeed, rather charming - which is perfect for Emma.
Neither of these voices is comparable to Winslet's, whose instrument is much more assured, sweeter and richer in tone, better commanded at higher and lower notes, and much better supported. I suspect she has had some training, though the instrument is by no means fully developed.
And I was considering the knowledge and ear that training provides, to which the resulting voice (mine is good, not great) is irrelevant.
Sorry, you are just wrong here. Winslet's voice is far better than Ehle's or her substitute's, or Beckinsale's. You may dislike it, but it is still better, as an instrument; that's fact, not opinion.
And, again, she DOES sing, as Marianne is written to do.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
I agree with you that Winslett sings more than well enough for Marianne. After all Marianne is not a professional singer. She is a gifted amateur who has had some basic training is all. Yes, she is interested in music and Elinor is interested in painting, but neither of them are contemplating a career in these things. They are hobbies for them, nothing more-nothing less.
_____________ I am the Queen of Snark, TStopped said so.
Yes, Winslet is "in range" for Marianne. She sings very prettily, quite enough for the accolade of "accomplishment." She could have been a bit stronger, and I don't think a weaker performance would have answered, but the songs are lovely, her singing is sweet (she has, as you've noted, sung quite a bit, and had a #1 single in Europe - the acting school she began attending at age 11 offered music, as well; it is not unreasonable to suppose her good natural instrument may have received some improvement here) and has the necessary emotion and delicacy for Marianne.
Music is a passion for Marianne, of course, but, as you say, an avocation; she need not be ready to step into the lead in "La Traviata."
Odd, isn't it - we see one poster castigate this adaptation for omitting Elinor's painting, while lauding another adaptation that omits Marianne's singing entirely, and trashing, again, this version because it is apparently better to have Marianne's voice silenced altogether than to make her less than Jenny Lind in accomplishment.
Whatevs.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
Music is a passion for Marianne, of course, but, as you say, an avocation; she need not be ready to step into the lead in "La Traviata."
I had to laugh when I read this, because of course it's so accurate. Marianne was interested in music, but even in the novel she doesn't spend hours practicing the scales. Young ladies were supposed to be interested in their 'accomplishments' but it's a funny thing about the upper classes in the UK, they are not supposed to be 'too good' at anything. So while Marianne is supposed to be a good singer, she is not supposed to be anywhere near a professional standard.
Queen Elizabeth's sister, the late Princess Margaret was an extremely talented pianist, near to professional standards. This was a deep dark family secret, no one was supposed to know that she could play so well. Prince Charles mentioned it when she died. The upper classes are supposed to know enough to appreciate the professionals, they are never supposed to be professionals. _____________ I am the Queen of Snark, TStopped said so.
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A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall.
At all odds, summer does not treat other posters as hostile witnesses, nor couch her posts so as to resemble nothing so much as a cross-examining attorney grandstanding for a non-existent jury.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
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Thank you, yes sometimes I do change my mind but in this case it was more expounding on a point. But I admit I can be harsh to people I think are acting like bigots and who's main form of posting is to simply trash a movie that they don't like. Everybody is entitled to their own likes and dislikes, but they are not entitled to try and bully other posters into either leaving the board or having their opinions insulted. It doesn't help either to imply that your opinion is the only one that matters and the only one that is entitled to be treated with respect. I have been wrong in the past about a point and I will be wrong in the future, I don't deny this. Usually I apologise and move on. I don't believe in cherishing a grudge because someone pointed out a mistake I made. And when i make a whole load of mistakes I deserve to have my rear end kicked into touch. _____________ I am the Queen of Snark, TStopped said so.
I like Winslet's singing in S&S. I think she has a lovely voice. Some people are born with natural talents, and it seems like her voice is hers. I've always been able to draw/design though I've never taken an art or design class in my life. It was something that I was born with.
Having recently re-read S&S, I still think Winslet's voice met my expectations for Marianne's level of talent. I was in no way disappointed by her level of skill, in either her voice or her abilities at the piano. I took piano lessons myself, so I have some idea of that kind of thing.
I agree with you, I think out of all the characters in the story Marianne underwent the biggest transformation and development...she started out as this very young immature girl who was preoccupied with her own fantasies of love and romance and immaturely latched onto the first man she became attracted to, she rushed into her romance with Willoughby and became so blinded with her infatuation with him and ignored all the warnings that Elinor had given her about him. And because of her immature infatuation with Willoughby she ignored all the goodness of Brandon and dismissed him, and she as a character seemed more self-absorbed with her own feelings and problems. But after she recovered from her illness she became more mature and wiser, she started to see and appreciate people for their qualities as a person and the goodness of their personalities, rather than appearance, she began to take notice of Brandon's goodness as she became wiser and started to appreciate all the good qualities he had a person. She also became more mindful of the people around her and more respectful towards her family's feelings, that's evident when Marianne lead her mother and sister out of the house when Elinor learned that Edward was not married, Marianne saw the awkwardness of the situation and Elinor crying and she took her mother & sister out of the house in respect for Elinor and the situation.
I have a few thoughts to share on the "Marianne meets Willoughby" scene in S&S. In the book, Marianne and Margaret are out walking after having been confined to the house for the previous two rainy days. The pleasant weather turns to rain, and they find themselves caught in it. Essentially, the 17-year-old Marianne is just spending time -- playing, even -- with her 13-year-old sister. Jane Austen doesn’t judge Marianne’s behavior here, except, perhaps, to imply that Marianne may be a bit immature. Marianne falls, injures herself, and meets Willoughby for the first time.
As you stated, in the 2008 miniseries, Marianne is given a different reason to go for a walk with Margaret -- one that is apparently intended to reflect badly on her judgment. She leaves the house to avoid Col. Brandon, who has just arrived for a visit, so, in this adaptation, it is her rejection of Brandon that leads to her becoming injured and meeting Willoughby. The heartbreak Willoughby eventually brings to her could be viewed as punishment for her earlier treatment of Brandon. I find this all somewhat problematic, to be honest. Even though I have to assume that we are meant to find Marianne's behavior appallingly rude, I don't like the implication that she deserves to be mistreated by a cad just because spending time around Brandon makes her uncomfortable.
I agree with you that, in the 1995 film, Marianne’s decision to go for a walk seems to be based on giving her older sister, Elinor, a chance to be alone with Mrs. Dashwood. I would consider this to be a thoughtful, rather noble action. Unfortunately, it leads to her falling and meeting Willoughby, who later breaks her heart. While I’m not fond of the punishment implication of the 2008 adaptation, I’m starting to find the sequence of events in this film to be equally problematic -- just in a very different way. It seems unfair to Marianne that her ill-fated relationship with Willoughby begins as a result of an action based on sisterly concern for Elinor.
If I remember correctly, the BBC miniseries versions from 1971 and 1981 are a little closer to the book, except that neither version includes Margaret. In both of them, Marianne simply goes out for a walk with Elinor, falls, and meets Willoughby -- there isn't much worth analyzing, really. 😀
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
Interesting thoughts, Raincrow! It is years since I saw either the 1971 or 1981 versions, and only once each. I recall finding the 1971 hard to sit through, and I do remember not finding either Marianne either convincing or appealing . . .
Dramatically speaking, I think it a good move to predicate Marianne's and Margaret's walk. And, look at the result from Marianne's own immediate perspective: in both cases, her judgement is vindicated - in the 1995, her good-hearted sensitivity to her sister brings her the man of her dreams. In the 2008, her rejection of Brandon leads directly to a much more suitable, in her mind, suitor.
I think the 1995 film gives us illustrations here and there of Marianne's fundamental goodness of heart and character - and I think they are needed, as Austen more often merely tells us of these qualities, showing us far more of Marianne's excesses and errors.
And this - or these - last are important, too. Winselt's far more mature - far more truly passionate, and far more authoritative Marianne gives us, as Charity Wakefield's in 2008 does not, nor, IIRC, the 1971 or 1981 Mariannes, the sense of a person of great dimension, who is greatly wrong. By comparatively trivializing Marianne, the other three versions also trivialize her errors of judgement - particularly in the 2008, Marianne is a child, not a young woman; her errors can be glossed over as merely youthful illusions.
Austen does not give Marianne this "out," nor do Thompson and Lee. In the 1995, the emphasis is not on Marianne's youth, but her wrongness. That is consistent with Austen's take. And, while not precisely a direct punishment, her suffering is dramatically both necessary and salutary - she must rise from her own ashes, re-create herself in a new, more mature and thoughtful image.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
Well, I have to agree with you that, from Marianne’s perspective at that point in the story, running into Willoughby is hardly a bad thing. 😉
Your comment on Austen’s tendency to tell about Marianne’s good qualities rather than show them strikes a chord with me. I noticed in a fairly recent reread that Marianne, in the final chapters, doesn’t appear to have undergone a fundamental change in outlook. She is subdued, contrite, depressed, and slightly less selfish than before, but she continues to express her emotions in laughably extreme ways, through fainting (or, at least, Austen says that she falls back in her chair in hysterics, which is most likely the same thing) and making pie-in-the-sky plans for personal improvement (which Elinor privately finds amusing).
I definitely detect more moderation from Marianne in the later scenes of the 1995 film version than I do in the closing chapters of the book. Earlier in the film, she has an obviously unsustainable, all-or-nothing approach to expressing herself. By the end, she still has the same intense emotions, but I think that the film, unlike the book, makes it clear that she now knows how to govern them.
Marianne in the 2008 version is a strange case, because even though she often appears inconsistent (extremely so!) and petulant, she does show considerable emotional restraint in some of the early scenes. For example, in the scene where the Dashwoods learn, to their horror, that John and Fanny will be arriving at Norland much earlier than expected, Marianne, instead of staying completely absorbed in her own grief, actually turns to comfort her mother, gently telling her not to cry. She reacts in a similar way after Willoughby abruptly leaves for London, apologizing to her mother and Elinor for her initial outburst and trying to reassure them (and herself, I guess) that Willoughby will be back soon. From the outset, she is a much milder and (as you point out) younger-seeming character than Kate Winslet’s Marianne, which makes her character arc a less compelling one. I'm not even really sure what has changed, other than that she seems to have grown quieter and has decided that she likes Brandon.
The Mariannes in the older television adaptations didn't appeal to me, either. The 1971 version of the character is eccentric and forceful enough that I found her entertaining, but I was never convinced that she had any of the latent "sense" that Marianne is supposed to have -- I thought that she was all sensibility. And I remember thinking that the 1981 Marianne never truly matured.
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
I agree that the 1995 film shows Marianne's growth and maturation much more clearly than the book, which wraps up what must be a period of some months at a minimum, in a few, rather sketched, paragraphs.
Your note about Wakefield's Marianne's inconsistency of self-focus is well-taken. I really found Marianne, and her story-arc, wholly trivialized in the 2008. If she gets the whole package of romantic hero in Brandon, no growth, no maturation, is necessary - nor does any appear - she is very much disappointed by Willoughby, catches an extremely bad cold, bounces back like a rubber ball, and immediately falls head-over-heels with a better romantic hero than her prior infatuation. And the 2008 Colonel Action Figure Brandon - don't get me started (again!).
I think one of the elements distinguishing Winslet's Marianne from the others is her far better-supported speaking voice, which lends authority to her characterization and performance. IIRC, the other three ALL have pinched-off, high-pitched, childish voices, produced without full diaphragmatic support. Certainly Wakefield is positively squeaky at times.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
Thanks for sharing your insights! We seem to be on about the same page regarding Marianne. I have to admit that I was a little surprised when I realized how little effort Jane Austen seemed to have put into the character’s development near the end. I suspect that this sketchiness might be a holdover from the earlier, epistolary version of the novel. It’s unfortunate, though, that Austen apparently didn’t do a more thorough rewrite of S&S, because it contains some interesting characters. Alternatively, she could have gone the route of not altering the epistolary format; Lady Susan’s structure was never changed, and it works just fine. But maybe that particular format works better for comedies.
Regarding Brandon's characterization, I think that most of the story beats and Brandon’s lines of dialogue in the 2008 miniseries are basically the same as those in the novel. Still, there are changes, and even though I think that David Morrissey plays the role with sincerity, lending it more credibility than it might otherwise have, I readily admit that I find some of the additions silly and borderline offensive. Glad that you brought up that subject. 😉
One of my “favorite” problematic additions occurs during the scene of the Barton Park ball. Brandon takes Willoughby aside and demands to know his intentions toward Marianne. Willoughby counters him: “What are my intentions? And what right have you to ask me?” Honestly, I agree with Willoughby here. It is absolutely none of Brandon’s business, and if Brandon wants to make it his business, then I think he should have the decency to inform Marianne and Mrs. Dashwood of his concerns, instead of simply confronting Willoughby.
What really makes this funny is that if this Willoughby and Marianne were real people instead of fictional characters in a TV miniseries, I’m sure that Willoughby would tell Marianne what had happened, and they would have a good laugh together over the ridiculous things the “old man” had been saying. In the book, they have to really stretch to find reasons for mocking Brandon; here, there is a perfect opportunity for mockery, and they don’t even take advantage of it!
There are a few scenes relating to Brandon that I find to be not merely silly, but troubling. These include the scene where Elinor alludes to Marianne being gentled like a wild horse by Brandon (and, since Elinor is the point-of-view character for much of the story, I think we’re meant to agree with her), and the scene with Marianne being compared to the trained falcon returning to Brandon’s hand. Heck, the filmmakers even have her walk over to Brandon after his command, “Come." Another bit I dislike is the moment when Brandon carries her inside, saying, “She must be stripped and chafed all over. I have seen this too many times,” and then starts trying to undress her. Even though he stops before doing anything worse than loosening her neckline, it feels wrong in an Austen movie.
To be fair, I don’t recall that last moment having bothered me very much on my first viewing of the 2008 miniseries S&S. After all, it is certainly not the first time that Andrew Davies included a gratuitous undressing scene in an Austen adaptation. However, I think the key difference between this scene in S&S and scenes like Lydia (in 1995’s P&P miniseries) running around in her petticoat and Darcy diving into a pond is that Lydia and Darcy are perfectly well and conscious, while Marianne is not. Lydia laughs hysterically when she runs into Collins while wearing nothing but her underwear, and, obviously, Darcy chooses to go for a swim, sans coat, waistcoat, and cravat, at his own estate. This series, though, seems to imply that it’s somehow sexy for Brandon to suggest “stripping and chafing” the weak, ill, barely-conscious Marianne. I don’t get it.
On the subject of Marianne's voice, I have to say that I agree with you about Kate Winslet in the 1995 S&S. She sounds considerably deeper and less breathy than Charity Wakefield, who has a very girlish quality. I honestly don’t recall the 1971 Marianne sounding particularly childlike, but even if she does, she is so weird and over the top (but entertaining!) in most of her scenes that I think even the deepest, most authoritative voice couldn’t help her appear mature. The 1971 version, as you may remember, is the one in which Marianne tearfully says goodbye to the curtains. 😁
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
You are most welcome - and thank you, too! I suspect, on the internal writing evidence of Austen's oeuvre, that S&S was rewritten fairly early, and not much touched afterward. The brief, bunched ending is, as you note, perhaps a hangover from the earlier format.
David Morrissey is a marvelous actor, but I think him less than ideal, generally, for Austen, and particularly for Brandon - he lacks the subtlety I think required for this character. Morrissey's work is finely observed, well detailed, but very straightforward. See "Our Mutual Friend" for him at his very best - a titanic performance as Bradley Headstone. Brandon is a character requiring a less in-your-face manner, IMO.
Sure, the bones of the arc, and a good bit of the dialogue, are the same as Austen's, but the character himself is madly divergent.
Yes, challenging a guest in another man's house is not only ridiculous, and pushy (when is Austen's Brandon EVER pushy? - but Davies' rewrite of the character is often very much so), but a grievous breach of etiquette. Ditto the demand of Mr. Palmer to know Marianne's whereabouts. Brandon is not a man, as Austen wrote him, to offer offense to his host, surely.
I could hand-wave the single line about wild horses, but the context of the falcon scene, and Marianne obeying Brandon's summons, renders it rather queasy, for me. I began to wonder what psycho-emotional jesses Marianne will trail . . .
For me, almost the entire 2008 Cleveland episode - and certainly Brandon in it, is appalling. If the 1995 version goes a bit wide, with Brandon searching in the rain, carrying the unconscious Marianne in his arms, at least it is used in a dramatically meaningful way - it contrasts the false Willoughby, who carried Marianne "as if (she) weighed no more than a dried leaf," which is to say, did what came easily to him, with the true Brandon, who exerts himself well beyond his strength in her service. It also sets up the beautiful moment when, out of danger, her mother at her side (and Elinor, assuring her sister she is there - Marianne's asking for her is also beautiful, IMO), Marianne reaches out with her weak voice to whisper her thanks to Brandon - pushing the words from her wasted lungs, she, too, does right by him to the limit of her strength. Showing - not telling - their spiritual kinship. So much more emotional impact than simply having Marianne (quite rapidly recovered) say Brandon is "the real romantic."
In the 2008, Davies found it necessary to push further - Brandon gallops about on horseback, dashes up the stairs with Marianne - he is a much bigger man than Willougby, and Marianne's weight easier for him to bear, quite visibly. Then, as you note, the beginning to undress her.
I agree that the camera catching a volitional state of undress is very different than a man undressing a young, unconscious girl.
But worse yet is the tete-a-tete between Brandon and Marianne - she is in bed, in her nightdress, he is in a state of semi-undress, in his shirtsleeves. He sits on her bed, clasps his hand over her two hands, which are in her lap, and the door is closed upon them. Marianne, here as in the novel, is shown to be perhaps a tiny bit tarnished by her excesses with Willoughby, but Brandon would have completely shredded her reputation here, no respectable man (except himself) would have married her. Is that his purpose? One wonders . . .
Davies is responsible for four Austen adaptations - in the mid-1990s, with P&P and "Emma," Sue Birtwistle produced. Whether her influence toned down his prurience, or whether it grew, by the 2007 "Northanger Abbey" and this production, Davies thrusts sex rather too much to the fore, and in ways I think are inappropriate and actually un-sexy, in the end.
The 2008 Brandon is dashing, impulsive (even pushy and intrusive - witness his descent, uninvited, upon the still-unpacking Dashwoods, to press music on Marianne), and as willing to set propriety at naught as even a pre-Willoughby Marianne could desire. Is that the Brandon Austen wrote? Quite decidedly not.
Winslet had good vocal training - it shows. And the contrast in 2008, between Wakefield's squeak and the rich vibrancy of the well-trained vocal instruments wielded by both Hattie Morahan and Janet McTeer (Elinor and Mrs. Dashwood, respectively) is a little jarring. To me, anyway - I have had musical and vocal training, myself, and have a rather irritable, over-sensitive ear for voices (one of the many reasons I adore Rickman's Brandon).
Oh, I had forgotten the curtain-leave-taking! Goodness - that was odd - although the book does have her sighing over the vistas she has walked, nature and drapery are not equal, surely, in Marianne's sensibility . . .
I did a write-up some time back on LiveJournal comparing three "Emmas;" one of these days I must do the same for S&S.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
Well, yes, I agree that David Morrissey isn’t the subtlest of actors. Still, I think that most of the problems with Brandon’s characterization in that version can be attributed to the writing and direction, since I get the impression that Morrissey was acting his heart out and that he genuinely did the best he could with some of the sillier material. Like Alan Rickman’s wonderful Brandon, his Brandon does seem to have a rich inner life, so he deserves credit for that achievement, at least.
The first time I watched the 2008 S&S, I thought of David Morrissey’s Brandon as overly assertive and confident. I still think he’s pretty demonstrative, but I no longer see him as a confident man. In some of the scenes (such as the confrontation at the Barton Park ball), he seems almost blustering, which I tend to associate with insecurity and anger. I don’t mean to imply that he constantly seethes with anger -- only that he seems deeply unsure of himself and often tries to conceal it with these inappropriate displays. As you say, he can be rude.
He is actually quite awkward around Marianne, as well. For example, he has to be gently pressured into speaking to her about her music, and even then, he only succeeds in confusing her (and, yes, she’s obtuse in that scene, but surely Brandon ought to notice her very obvious frustration -- I thought that he was supposed to be mindful of others’ feelings). In general, I don’t mind this awkwardness too much, since it’s clear that Brandon hasn’t had any practice in courting women and knows that the very young Marianne is likely to look askance at his age. My main problem with it is his apparent inability or unwillingness to relieve her discomfort.
On that subject, I did some digging and found an article quoting Morrissey’s views -- not Andrew Davies’s, with which I was already familiar -- on the character. This particular observation isn’t too different from some of my own about his performance:
When Brandon falls for Marianne Dashwood, played by relative newcomer Charity Wakefield, he finds it hard to know what to do.
Like a child? Doesn’t know how to communicate? 😉 That’s not very much like Austen’s Brandon, but I can see it in Morrissey's portrayal.
I’m guessing that the scene where Brandon shuts himself in with Marianne while she’s on her sickbed was intended to echo his bedside visit with his ward, Eliza, but you’re right that it is utterly inappropriate. At this point, Brandon is barely more than an acquaintance of Marianne’s. What is he thinking?
I, too, like Alan Rickman’s Brandon very much. He is soft-spoken, rather sentimental (I’m thinking particularly of the whole “Your sister seems very happy” episode), and dignified. I’m fond of the little gestures that demonstrate his attentiveness and concern toward Marianne and other people. These generally aren’t grand, showy gestures like Brandon’s catching Marianne before she faints in the London assembly in the 2008 adaptation, but instead are things like lending Marianne a knife, aiding her and Margaret in the bowling game, playfully exchanging a military salute with Margaret, etc.
I agree that Marianne’s comment in the 2008 series about Brandon being a “true romantic” just states what should be (and is) already obvious. Were the filmmakers afraid that we wouldn’t recognize Brandon’s romantic nature and Marianne’s change of heart if they didn’t beat us over the head with them? The 1995 film isn’t exactly right, either, with the “Colonel Brandon… thank you” scene (I love it, but of course it wouldn’t have happened that way -- in the book, arrangements are made for Brandon to visit Marianne later, in the dressing room), the poetry scene (“For there is nothing lost but may be found, if sought” -- gee, what could that possibly be alluding to here?), the music scene, and so on, but at least it doesn’t disrespect its audience.
You also make a very good point about the symbolism in the rain scenes from the film: Brandon’s full devotion to Marianne contrasted with Willoughby’s cavalier attitude. Still, setting the symbolism aside for a moment, I have to say that I’ve never thought that Brandon’s exhaustion makes him look less strong, mainly because Marianne’s fateful walk in the film occurs on the same day that everyone arrives at Cleveland. Rickman’s Brandon has already traveled a considerable distance on horseback, so of course he is worn out. Morrissey’s Brandon, on the other hand, benefits from having almost a full day in between arriving at Cleveland and having to rescue Marianne. I very much doubt that Davies had that in mind when he wrote the scene, however.
I have watched the adaptation of Northanger Abbey that Davies wrote. It’s enjoyable but fluffy, much like the book. And, yes, Davies added too many ridiculous sexual elements. Fortunately, the light, comic tone of the film kept these from grating on me quite as much as some of the additions in the 2008 S&S do.
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
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Oh, no argument from me that the core problems with the 2008 Brandon stem from the writing! And the direction, somewhat, too - I believe John Alexander had little period-drama experience. I have enormous respect for Morrissey as an actor (I do need to watch the filmed stage production of "Macbeth," but reports are that it is so unrelievedly dark, even for that play, I shy away). And his performance in the 2008 S&S is excellent - it just isn't remotely Brandon, for my money.
Thank you for the link - it is enlightening, and, yes, I can see something of what he (and you) note.
As you also note, it isn't what Austen wrote.
I wonder whether the lack of confidence was Morrissey's notion? Certainly the writing has Brandon extremely assertive - I have speculated before that Davies' Brandon inviting descriptives such as "pushing," "thrusting," "inserting," is not an accident.
But the notion that his pushiness is due to a lack of social graces is interesting, and helps make the character less unpalatable (for me). However, it is impossible to believe Austen intended Brandon to be as graceless (and clueless) as this must paint him.
Alan Rickman - I remember reading Emma Thompson's screenplay and filming diary shortly after seeing the film for the first time; I was VERY deeply gratified at her note that it gave her such pleasure to see Rickman in a role which displayed his quality of deep sweetness. And, like you, I am charmed by the small touches of attention to others, by his courting, not of Marianne herself but her good opinion, his camaraderie with Margaret.
I think that the difference between the Marianne-bearing Cleveland scenes is magnified by the far-greater disparity in size between Morrissey (who is 6'3") and Wakefield (5'3" or 4") than between Rickman (6'0") and Winslet (5'6 1/2"). Morrissey might be leaping about with a child in his arms. Winslet is also bigger-boned . . .
You do make a good point, which I had not considered, regarding the timing of Marianne's vanishing . . .
I agree that, as distasteful as I found some of "Northanger Abbey," it is charming. JJ Feild is marvelous, but I also liked Peter Firth in the earlier version (the earlier version keeps Catherine's lovely line, "I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible," which Davies edits out). I also liked Felicity Jones' Catherine in the later version, although she is perhaps too distinguished for the "ordinary" girl Austen wrote.
My most serious issue with Davis' version is Captain Tilney's defloration of Isabella (from a post of mine a couple of years' back):
In this adaptation, when Captain Frederick Tilney speaks to Henry of the mess drinking to Miss Thorpe for a fortnight, there is no mistaking his meaning and intent.
But, in the novel, it is Henry who says to Catherine that "The mess-room will drink Isabella Thorpe for a fortnight, and she will laugh with your brother over poor Tilney's passion for a month."
Changing the speaker and truncating the line as Davies does utterly rewrites the meaning, as it cannot be reasonably imagined that Jane Austen intended us to think that this "nice," precise, proper clergyman, Henry Tilney, would speak to a very innocent young girl of his brother's lascivious intent with regard to her particular friend.
In addition, while John Thorpe is a thorough lout, he is also an impulsive hothead - can we believe he would regard his sister's despoiling (of course, in Bath, this could not have remained secret long - and must materially lessen John's own prospects for an advantageous marriage) without an ensuing challenge by him to Captain Tilney?
Apparently, Davies becomes so inflamed with his own sexualized imagination as to reduce him to narrative myopia.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
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It’s funny -- when I entered into this discussion, I was convinced that even with all of the fairly significant, un-Austenian changes to Brandon in the 2008 series, he was still recognizably Brandon, and not an entirely new creation. Now that you’ve prompted me to look more closely at his scenes, and I’ve had a chance to thoroughly work out my thoughts on them (Morrissey’s Brandon as a socially inept child of a man was actually a new idea for me -- I had previously considered him insecure, but not quite clueless), I’ve changed my mind.
I'm glad that you enjoyed the old article about the miniseries, by the way. 😃
I do agree that Davies’s writing and Morrissey’s acting are sometimes at odds with each other. Davies has said that he wanted a more “butch,” macho Brandon than the one in Austen's novel. "Thrusting" and "inserting," indeed. 😀 Morrissey, on the other hand, seems to have focused a bit more on Brandon’s unease and vulnerability. On a side note, I’ve always thought that Rickman’s Brandon feels unsure of himself, too -- but, unlike Morrissey’s Brandon, he manages to maintain his dignity.
I’ve read (and listened to) some of Rickman’s remarks on his character in the 1995 film, as well as the comment of Emma Thompson’s that you mentioned. In this case, it seems that actor and writer were on roughly the same wavelength. (Naturally, even people collaborating on a project will have at least slightly different interpretations of the work, and a variety of viewpoints isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as long as there are sufficient similarities.)
This is off the subject, but I have the older (2013, I think) Blu-ray edition of the 1995 film, which contains a short (under an hour), promotional, “making of” documentary. Most of my movie collection is packed away right now (floor space issues -- long story), but I remember that the documentary contains very little actual discussion of the story changes. Well, Lindsay Doran did speak of her regret that some of them, such as the omission of Anne Steele, had to be made. Overall, I found that particular segment of the documentary rather disappointing. But then, it's only a television promotional piece, so I probably shouldn't have expected too much.
I read Thompson’s book some years ago, and I was similarly disappointed in its dearth of coverage on the reasons for the changes. I’m hard to please, I guess. I do enjoy the book The Making of Pride and Prejudice, which the BBC first published shortly before the release of the 1995 miniseries. It delves into all aspects of the production in a fair amount of depth.
As for Davies, while I think that his work ethic and writing skills are enviable, it grates on me when he insists that he just knows the authors of these classic books would have been so much more explicit about sexual matters if only society had enabled them to do so. Look no further than his numerous interviews during the promotion period for his adaptation of War and Peace. Maybe he has a point, although it seems to me that there were plenty of authors back then who were more upfront about sex than he is implying. That said, I strongly suspect that he knows exactly what he’s doing when he gives these kinds of interviews. They are excellent publicity.
You make a good point about the S&S actors’ heights contributing to the characterizations. If the heights reported on this website are accurate, then Morrissey must be about 10 inches taller than Charity Wakefield, who is 5’5”. In general, the height disparity doesn’t matter much to me, but yes, when Morrissey shares scenes with Wakefield, he tends to make her very childish Marianne appear even younger and more vulnerable.
I want to add here that, while the changes to Austen's timeline in the 1995 film provide a good reason for that version's Brandon to be exhausted from carrying Marianne, it may not have been in the filmmakers' minds. I think that such a realistic and mundane cause-and-effect is perfectly in line with Austen's style, though; for example, in Emma, Harriet Smith is unable to escape from the gypsy children due to cramp brought on by dancing. Even in the novel S&S, Marianne's illness sets in after she walks about in wet grass and neglects to change her clothing. Austen generally included mundane details like these, but movie-makers prefer a little more drama.
I agree with most of your thoughts on the 2007 Northanger Abbey. Carey Mulligan’s performance is one of my favorite things about the film, but even so, Isabella’s out-of-character decision to get into bed with Captain Tilney is perhaps my least favorite moment (a relatively close second might be Catherine’s Monk-influenced sexy dream with the leering Mr. Tilney figure -- it’s hilarious, but not really in a good way). Austen’s Isabella Thorpe has too much cunning to be tempted into that sort of foolishness. It also makes no sense that the other characters in the film take the incident so lightly.
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
Interesting point about having the writer, director, and actor be, generally speaking, "on the same page," so to speak. It seems to me that one of the charms of the 1995 film is the (apparently) harmonious commitment of so darned MUCH British star-power to a grand undertaking together. The film does seem redolent of deep affection and respect among its cast . . .
(Although, I recall with wicked pleasure the image, from Thompson's diary, of Ang Lee, after a very difficult scene, murmuring, face in hands, "No sheep. Never again sheep.")
Speaking of Thompson's book, while I, too, would love to know more about the various alterations and eliminations, I think you are a little harsh. The book itself was, IIRC, billed as the screenplay and Thompson's filming diary; what little more we get is, as they say in New Orleans, "lagniappe;" extra. I've not seen the film you mention, so cannot speak to it. I would have to say, in this adaptation (as in many, if not most Austen adaptations) so many changes, small and large, were made that if they thoroughly explained every one of them, it would be an 18-hour mini-series.
One scholarly piece I read contained an interesting postulation - that the 1995 film has rather the tenor of a "Sense & Sensibility" written from the more-mature perspective of "Persuasion's" authorship. I think there is some validity to this.
Another effect of the size-difference between Marianne and Brandon (and, again, favorable to 1995 and unfortunate in 2008) is that in the 1995 film, there is no sense of Marianne NOT being "on Brandon's level," so to speak. She is confident and decided; he is diffident, though attentive. It is Brandon who is vulnerable. And Rickman's combination of sweetness and the sense of a deep wound never fully healed - a wound which Marianne actually seems to re-open, irresistibly - is utterly captivating.
In the 2008, by contrast, Marianne is rather in a subordinate position to Brandon - he does, as you note, positively loom over her, attempts to direct her musical development, "thrusts" himself into her relationship with Willoughby, which as we have agreed he has absolutely no business doing. He is very obvious, and immediate, in his pursuit of her - he is always there - one can sympathize with her feeling a bit smothered. In this adaptation, though he cannot compel her affection, Brandon very definitely has the reins in their interactions. All Marianne can do is run away with Margaret.
So, yes, both Brandons are, have reason to be, unsure of themselves. It is how they comport themselves in light of this uncertainty that distinguishes them - and one manner, obviously, is far more in keeping with Austen's character than the other.
ETA: It occurs to me also that, as Marianne recuperates in the 1995 film (clearly a long process), while we see that she and Brandon have become closer, he is there for her as a friend, as Marianne, in her own time, in her own way, grows and heals - once again, it is Marianne who is agent. Compared with the 2008 "training and gentling" at Brandon's hands, following a super-swift recovery.
You are absolutely right that the minutiae are Austen's province. Although I, too, think it likely that neither script writer thought consciously of the physical toll of a day's riding, with or without a day's rest after.
On Davies - I suspect him as you do, and I long have done. He's a mischief-maker; it comes through clearly in filmed interviews. And I find it impatient-making that he should take to task for failure to deal with sexuality the author of "Anna Karenina" and "The Kreutzer Sonata." I think I will not look for those interviews. He is altogether too pleased with himself, accomplished as he is, and too dismissive of those of (IMO) greater accomplishment.
Yes, Carey Mulligan is an absolute delight! Except for allowing herself to be seduced which, as you say, is utterly out of character for Isabella Thorpe. As for the other characters taking the incident lightly - do they, in fact, "take it" at all? While it is extremely unlikely that anyone would speak of it to Miss Moreland, there would be talk. There is none, so the seduction exists almost in a vacuum. Who knows about it? Everyone would, in reality, but apparently they do not in the film. Sloppy as well as gratuitous.
Oh, Catherine's lurid dreams and fantasies! Way too much time, in both adaptations, spent on these.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
My disappointment in Thompson’s book probably comes down to personal taste. Instead of a day-by-day account of the filming, from only one person’s perspective (and, yes, I know that Lindsay Doran wrote an introduction), I would have liked a book with input from the crew as well as more of the cast members, and more information about the research involved, the adaptation process, the sets, the costumes, the music, etc. For what it’s worth, I also experienced letdown when I first saw the 2008 S&S; I have loved Davies’s P&P since I was about eleven, and I was expecting his S&S to be fairly similar in quality. That was a worse kind of disappointment than merely finding the promotional book of an actor/writer (whose film work I almost invariably enjoy) not much to my taste.
I’ll admit, though, that while it would be interesting to learn exactly why the filmmakers of the two recent S&S adaptations made certain changes to the story, I’m not excessively bothered by not knowing. 😉
The scholarly piece that you mention sounds very interesting. Does the author discuss Elinor’s age (in the film, it’s closer to that of Anne Elliot) and the film’s romanticization of Austen’s story? Those two elements certainly evoke Persuasion, but I’m not so sure about anything else from the film.
On that subject, I think that this current trend of romanticizing Austen can be attributed largely to several of the more popular adaptations from the 1990s: the 1995 P&P, S&S, and Persuasion, and the 1996 Emma (the Gwyneth Paltrow version, which I haven’t yet seen). The 1995 S&S, relatively low-key though it is, essentially set the stage for some of the over-the-top, romance-novel elements of the later version. You mentioned in an earlier post that the 1995 Brandon courts Marianne’s good opinion without actively courting her, and while I agree that his behavior, in general, is very cautious and reticent (unlike the more demonstrative 2008 Brandon), it’s worth noting that he brings her a bouquet of flowers just before Willoughby arrives with his own. In the book, Brandon never does anything of the sort. The film character’s introduction is also different; whereas Austen tells us that Brandon merely gives Marianne “the compliment of attention” and listens “without being in raptures,” the film shows Brandon completely enraptured by Marianne and her music -- so much so that he seems to struggle to compose himself and speak to her.
However, probably the most significant change is Brandon falling in love with Marianne rather early in their acquaintance (although this is far more evident in the 1995 and 2008 versions, it also shows up in the earlier BBC versions). It’s still a little surprising to me that, in the book, Brandon doesn’t develop romantic feelings for Marianne until after she has fallen for Willoughby. I suppose filmmakers think that staying faithful to the book on this point would make audiences less inclined to root for Brandon.
I agree with everything you say regarding Brandon and Marianne in the two recent film versions. I think that the “rescue” scenes also aptly illustrate the contrast between the reticent, vulnerable 1995 Brandon and the rather dominating 2008 version. In the 1995 adaptation, Brandon, clearly tired from traversing the Palmers’ grounds without the use of a horse (another perfectly logical reason for him to be tired, maybe?) and carrying Marianne on the way back, staggers inside the house and briefly explains Marianne’s condition (“She is not hurt, but we must get her warm”). Although his and every other character’s attention is focused almost entirely on Marianne (which is understandable and reasonable, given how ill she appears), the scene is really more about him and the physical and emotional cost of his action. The camera pulls back to show him looking vulnerable and alone.
The 2008 version of this scene also focuses heavily on Brandon, but in this case, his physical strength and assertiveness are emphasized, not his vulnerability (unless his pushy behavior could perhaps be viewed as social ineptitude and emotional immaturity). He completely dominates the scene. He is the one to lay Marianne on the bed and issue all of the orders. He leaves her to Elinor’s care only after it occurs to him that it would be inappropriate for him to undress her. Elinor looks a bit stunned or anxious (it’s hard for me to gauge her expression here), but quickly starts unlacing Marianne’s dress. Brandon looks at Marianne and her sister before finally leaving the room.
I feel compelled to point out that Marianne’s illness and recovery are presented rather differently in the book, where the apothecary seems fairly optimistic about Marianne’s chance of recovery. Marianne’s illness in the 1995 film is, therefore, a bit overwrought. Her recovery apparently takes more time than it does in the 2008 version, where, as you mention, she bounces back almost immediately. She seems perfectly strong and well only a day after her illness! Like the book and the 1995 film, the 1981 and 1971 versions show Marianne recovering at a relatively slow pace (faster in the 1971 version than in the 1981, if I remember correctly), while the illness scenes are slightly less extreme than those in the 1995 film.
I’ll try to respond to your second post at some other time.
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
Here is a question that is running the squirrel-wheel in my mind (probably belongs on the 2008 board, but . . .):
If, in the 2008 film, Marianne is very childish, Morrissey has also, in his choices and explicitly (thanks again for that, it's food for thought!), made Brandon so, as well. This is a very different way of rendering the characters' essential kinship than other adaptations, or Austen's novel, have offered us.
You and I are unconvinced, in the 2008 adaptation, of Marianne's changing, growing or maturing in any meaningful way. If she does not, does Brandon? Or is theirs to be seen as the union of two psycho-emotionally stunted, immature individuals, attempting to capture the romantic chimeras which have so grievously disappointed them in the past?
ETA for board-appropriateness: By contrast, the 1995 film, as we agree, shows Marianne maturing as she heals both physically and psycho-emotionally, growing in greater awareness, of her own feelings and those of others. Brandon, IMO, also grows - and heals - but he grows almost younger - freer, less oppressed by old sorrow (or newer anguish, of course) - I would say this Brandon-Marianne pairing leaves the past behind, including, perhaps, past self-reproach, no? (For Marianne, this must come after we hear self-reproach from her own lips, of course.)
I'd love to know your thoughts on this.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
Yes, I would say that the 2008 version of Marianne does not undergo any substantial change in outlook over the course of the miniseries. She is, in general, sweeter and milder from the outset than the 1995 Marianne, with fewer strongly-held opinions. The main alteration I notice is that her tendency toward childish capriciousness seems to lessen over time. Interestingly, that quality is generally more noticeable in her early interactions with and conversations about Brandon, and considerably less so in most other scenes.
Brandon in the 2008 version also changes very little, if at all. If, as you suggest, he and Marianne have a relationship based on emotional immaturity, then it clearly has no adverse effects on either of them. The filmmakers seem to see nothing wrong with it. As far as Brandon's characterization is concerned, I strongly suspect that, even though Morrissey evidently saw the character as somewhat emotionally stunted and vulnerable, Davies did not want the audience to think of Brandon as lacking in any significant way. Despite his occasionally inappropriate behavior, this Brandon is so talked up by the other characters and his “butch” qualities are showcased so frequently that I have to assume we’re meant to hold him in awe. I think that we’re also supposed to be appalled that Marianne fails to immediately recognize and appreciate his “worthiness.”
On that subject, I’m amused by some of Davies’s comments describing how he made the heroes “worthy” of the heroines. Apparently, the way to achieve that was to add lots of action sequences:
He told the packed audience, "We worked very hard on those guys, some people will think to a ludicrous effect. So our Brandon does a lot of fast-riding and rescuing people and I have given Edward a wood-chopping scene. It fits because he is frustrated and tense about his secret engagement so he sees these logs, starts chopping, and would you believe it, the rain starts." http://www.thefreelibrary.com/Davies+does+a+another+novel+sexing+up+and+it's+Jane+Austen+tweaked...-a0166517151
It’s worth mentioning that the 1995 version does this sort of thing to its heroes, too, albeit less obnoxiously. For instance, Brandon rides a horse in more scenes than Willoughby does, and two of those occasions are quite dramatic. The first one, when he rides to London, is justified by the book, but the other one, in which he leaves Cleveland for Barton, is not (in the novel, he actually takes a carriage). And, of course, he has the “rescue” scene at Cleveland and the scene where he reads poetry to a recuperating Marianne. However, as you point out, he is noticeably depressed throughout most of the film, instead of being an assertive action hero. He becomes livelier later in the film, by which point Marianne has become wiser, steadier, and more considerate.
I’ve been ruminating on how the 2008 version very heavily emphasizes Marianne’s being in the wrong about Brandon. The film continually presents her as attitude as irrational. In an early scene, after Marianne complains about Brandon’s reaction to her music, Elinor tries to reason with her by saying, “I think Colonel Brandon has a little more discernment than your usual audience.” But Marianne's feelings are not soothed; she claims that Brandon is simply a disagreeable person. (Is this story Sense and Sensibility or Pride and Prejudice?)
Later, when she learns of Mrs. Jennings’s vulgar comments about her and Brandon, she is mortified. Elinor points out that Marianne likes him, which Marianne acknowledges, although she still thinks that he is too old. Mrs. Dashwood chimes in to say that Marianne is free to make her own decision, but that 35 isn’t old. As she puts it, “Men of 35 have married girls of 17 before, I believe.” It was wise of the filmmakers to acknowledge Marianne’s freedom of choice here, because that scene heavily promotes this Marianne-Brandon pairing.
This happens one more time in the second episode, when Elinor gently chides Marianne for having been rude to Brandon earlier in the day:
(Elinor) "Colonel Brandon was disappointed not to see you."
(Marianne) "He did see me."
(Elinor) "For about five seconds. He has a great regard for you, Marianne."
(Marianne) "Yes, and I for him, but he has one great defect: he is not Willoughby."
Granted, some of this emphasis on Brandon’s worthiness and the Dashwoods’ desire to see Marianne attached to him is in line with the novel. I can’t deny that Austen’s description of the “confederacy against [Marianne]” (Ch. 50) makes this point even more strongly (and, in my opinion, distastefully -- whether or not this passage is meant to be tongue-in-cheek, I find it deeply unsettling).
Honestly, I’m not entirely convinced by all of Marianne’s early claims of great regard for Brandon in the 2008 adaptation. Yes, she is deeply embarrassed at the thought of being romantically paired with him, and while that explains most of her rudeness, it doesn’t make much sense for her to behave this way if she genuinely likes him; either she is excessively childish, or the adaptation is committing the lazy error of telling the audience about her feelings rather than showing them. In any case, the main element the filmmakers seem to have stressed here is Marianne's willful wrongness.
To be fair, there are shades of this in the 1995 version, with Marianne getting along quite well with Brandon before Mrs. Jennings interferes, and Brandon obviously sharing Marianne’s love of music (by contrast, in the novel, Willoughby, not Brandon, is musically gifted). Mrs. Jennings even brings this up in front of Marianne. Marianne, of course, is embarrassed at the idea of being romantically paired with an older man, but the implication seems to be that she is short-sighted to completely dismiss their shared interest in music.
However, unlike in the 2008 version, Marianne in the 1995 film does not claim to feel a “great regard” for Brandon while treating him rudely. Also, no characters in the film, except for the rather pushy and vulgar Mrs. Jennings and Sir John, pressure Marianne to view Brandon as a potential suitor. In fact, when Marianne complains about Mrs. Jennings’s teasing, Elinor doesn’t mention Brandon at all -- she simply points out that Mrs. Jennings has nothing to do with her time other than play matchmaker. When Marianne then grumbles about Brandon’s age and health (“When is a man to be safe from such wit, if age and infirmity do not protect him?”), Elinor and Mrs. Dashwood defend him from her unfair assessment, but, significantly, they never suggest that she start viewing him as a marriage prospect.
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
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It was, I acknowledge, a rather soaring flight of fancy . . . of course, we are not meant to see the Brandon-Marianne pairing as detrimental to either.
We seem to agree, though, that there is little change in either Marianne or Brandon - and I wholly agree with you, upon deeper reflection, that the introduction of mitigation, interest, complication to the 2008 Brandon's overweening, all-conquering magnificence must have been all Morrissey's own - I am persuaded to a moral near-certainty that Andrew Davies did not intend anything of the kind.
Yes, I found I objected to being pounded over the head at every turn with characters telling me how wonderful Colonel Brandon was. I have compared it with Arlo Guthrie's "8 x 10 color glossy photos, with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one, explaining what each one was," in "Alice's Restaurant."
And Mrs. Dashwood, promoting the reasonableness of the match - the only mention, in Austen's novel, at that stage, of the age difference in connection with Marianne and Brandon comes as Marianne says that
thirty-five has nothing to do with matrimony
To which Elinor responds
Perhaps, thirty-five and seventeen had better not have any thing to do with matrimony together.
Which, particularly as it is said by Elinor, lends some legitimacy to Marianne's objection to Brandon as a suitor, rather than wholly de-legitimizing her feelings, as the 2008 certainly does.
I rather think Edward is a bit unworthy of Elinor - in the novel, and in all adaptations I have seen. He is her reward because he is the reward she wants. It is very interesting to me that Austen gives Elinor what Marianne assumed was her own particular birthright - a life-long happy marriage with her first and only love.
ETA: It occurs to me that Elinor tends to like and sympathize with, generally if not romantically, by rather sad men, crossed either in, or by, love - Edward, of course, was "crossed" early in his love for Lucy, and becomes crossed by her. Brandon, obviously, Willoughby at his confession, even Mr. Palmer to an extent. Am I wrong, or is this a subtle pattern?
Yes, I have read that Davies comment, and come down squarely in the "ludicrous effect" camp.
I agree, and it's been much discussed, that the 1995 film does, somewhat, romanticize both Edward and Brandon - they didn't need to do much beyond casting Hugh Grant for Edward. And, really, Rickman, either - he is, and was objected to in some quarters at the time, as being far too sexy (indeed, I thought him so radiantly attractive, I looked him up to be sure he was old enough for Brandon!). But, as you note, they stray far, far less from Austen's descriptions in their demeanor - particularly Rickman. And the scenes invented for them are far more consonant with Austen's tenor.
I love the film showing (again, not telling!) Marianne's maturation, her more sober thoughtfulness, contrasted with Brandon's enlivening, his developing a touch, even, of insouciance. They grow closer, the roles change - Brandon has spent the narrative desiring Marianne's happiness - which was not in his gift. The novel tells us that Marianne's initial marital happiness is predicated upon the happiness she gives Brandon.
Marianne's illness - the 1995 film certainly puts it more drastically before us than the novel - but, although Marianne, at first, and Elinor and the apothecary for a greater time, are sanguine, Marianne does, indeed, become delirious, her fever is unabated for a protracted interval, which could result of itself in bran-damage, and Elinor does fear that either Marianne's life or her sanity will be ended before Mrs. Dashwood can reach them.
In the 2008 mini-series, yes, I agree that creating a growing relationship between Marianne and Brandon, which is to be ended by Marianne's (in this adaptation) wholly irrational objections to his suit (which has not been pressed at this point in any other adaptation - and Brandon's gift of flowers to Marianne while she is invalided has always looked more like "flowers to a sickroom" than courtship to me), creates problems of narrative coherence. Again we agree - Marianne looks like a ninny! Of course no rational human, not even Austen's Marianne, would act so toward someone for whom she had a "great regard." In the 1995 film, Marianne is rude to Brandon, but only after Willoughby's advent, and only due to her mind's complete occupation with the latter. Not that that is any excuse - but it stems from a coherent character-take.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
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Yes, Davies is extremely unsubtle about his love of Brandon. It would be entertaining to make a list of all the times that he has the other characters praising Brandon or invents scenes to highlight Brandon’s numerous virtues. Granted, I still think that a few of these scenes are true to the spirit of the novel, if not precisely the letter. For example, I have no particular problem with the emphasis on Brandon’s greenhouse peaches and strawberries. My only objections are that it seems silly to have a giant bowl of fruit in the library, and that Marianne should not be at Brandon’s house by herself. If she was wrong to tour Allenham without a chaperone, then why is it suddenly acceptable for her to spend time at Delaford with no one present but Brandon? It’s a major inconsistency.
You’re also correct that, in the book, Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor don’t begin promoting the Marianne-Brandon match until much later. And, yes, Marianne’s feelings in the 2008 version are delegitimized because the other characters (and Davies) can’t comprehend how anyone could fail to fully appreciate Brandon. Even Marianne seems to know that she is wrong (why else would Davies have her repeatedly claim that she actually likes Brandon?), but why she willfully continues being wrong, I have no idea.
As a side note, it’s interesting to me that Davies wrote Brandon this way when he has commented that he finds the character of Mr. Knightley in Emma to be rather odd, if not a little creepy, and wrote his adaptation of that novel as almost a deconstruction of the Emma-Knightley relationship (I don’t think he was successful in this, but it appears to have been his intent, regardless). I’m not sure what to make of this discrepancy.
My one major objection to Edward Ferrars is his failure to tell Elinor of his engagement to Lucy. In the 1995 film, at least, this is the only behavior of his that I feel Elinor has a right to be upset about, given that she herself points out several times that he hasn’t made her any promises. In the book, I also blame him for spending so much additional time with the Dashwoods (I’m referring to his Barton visit) and for lying about the ring Lucy gave him (I think he should either tell the truth about it or simply not wear it in front of the Dashwoods). I actually have a great deal of respect for him for his decision -- a terribly stupid and bizarre decision, by modern standards -- to stay engaged to Lucy. I think it makes him genuinely heroic, since he is well aware that he is sacrificing his own happiness for the sake of someone he doesn’t even like.
That said, if Lucy didn’t end up breaking her engagement to go after Robert Ferrars, I would almost certainly feel a lot of sympathy for her, as well. I tend to view most of her behavior toward Elinor as rather annoying but understandable. She is poor and (in the book, at least) undereducated, so she has to be extremely vigilant about protecting her own interests. Unfortunately, she also happens to be unscrupulous. 😉
You make a good point about Elinor’s sympathy for sad men. Being much less forgiving than Elinor, I personally have no sympathy for Willoughby and very little for Mr. Palmer. I assume that no explanation is needed for my dislike of the former, but in my opinion, Mr. Palmer isn’t really a good guy, either. In many ways, he’s basically a much less witty version of Mr. Bennet in P&P. Now, I like Mr. Bennet as a character and adore his sense of humor, but I’m well aware that his behavior toward his wife counts as a form of emotional abuse. Mr. Palmer’s nastiness isn’t much better, though; the biggest difference is simply that his wife takes it all in stride, laughing instead of getting upset. Yes, he sends for a doctor for Marianne when she falls ill at Cleveland and offers to stay with Elinor afterward, but since the Dashwood sisters are his guests at this time, these actions are merely common decency.
I’m not entirely sure what you mean by your remark that Marianne’s happiness in the film “was not in [Brandon’s] gift,” unless you’re suggesting that Marianne becomes something of a martyr and finds her happiness in submitting to Brandon’s desires (and I very much doubt that you are). In the book, yes, Austen tells us that Marianne’s happiness in marriage (at first) is based solely on her forming Brandon’s happiness. Frankly, though, I don’t see this at all in the film, which I think presents a far more equal relationship between the two.
In fact, the film’s presentation strikes me as somewhat “modern,” in the sense that the filmmakers seem to have been influenced by certain current societal expectations which I’m pretty sure did not exist during Austen’s lifetime (the 2008 version is also guilty of this). It’s more or less expected these days that a man in a relationship will spend a lot of what I will just call “quality time” with his significant other (which explains the poetry-reading scene in the film) and that meaningful presents will be given (which explains the rather unAustenian pianoforte scene -- as is made clear in Emma, these kinds of surprise gifts weren’t exactly appropriate). In Austen’s day, men’s and women’s social spheres overlapped considerably less than they do now, and rules regarding courtship were much stricter. It’s very common, however, for adaptations of Austen’s works to use artistic license.
I think that Marianne in the film doesn’t merely accept attentions from Brandon, but genuinely enjoys them and works to protect her own happiness and emotional health. She is certainly no martyr. Even during her “Colonel Brandon... thank you” scene at Cleveland, she is relieving her own heart about as much as Brandon’s. She has a commendable but also very impulsive emotional need to thank him right at that moment (rather than waiting until proper arrangements can be made for him to visit her, as in the book and the 1971 version).
The poetry scene illustrates this, as well. Marianne enjoys Brandon’s company and goes from feeling a bit dismayed that he will be away from Barton for a while (“Away? Where?”) to seeking reassurance that he will be back soon (“You will not stay away long?”). She has matured, so she doesn’t make a fuss the way she might have done in the early scenes of the film, but she wants Brandon to spend time with her and is visibly disappointed when he can’t.
You’ll hear no disagreement from me, however, that Rickman and Grant were too appealing for the characters they played. 😀 I have never thought that Rickman looks too young in the film, though. To me, he looks like a fairly typical 40-something-year-old. Still, he gives such an excellent performance that I don’t have any problem with his age. I’ve noticed that some fans of period drama seem a bit preoccupied with the precise ages of the actors involved, but my view is that the performances matter more.
As for the reason Brandon brings flowers for Marianne in the 1995 film -- I’ve pretty much always seen it as a combination of “flowers to a sickroom” and fairly clear-cut, if tentative, courtship. Marianne’s injury provides a good excuse for the filmmakers to have Brandon give a small present, of course, but I would argue that Rickman does a very good job of looking crestfallen and embarrassed when Winslet as Marianne immediately hands the flowers off to Elinor, and I think this reaction would make considerably less sense if Brandon merely intended the flowers as a “get well” gift. After all, Marianne does verbally thank him (twice, actually -- once of her own volition, and once after Elinor reminds her to do so). He also seems rather upset to hear that Willoughby is in the country (although he has enough presence of mind to maintain his poise, for the most part), which makes a lot of sense to me if he’s thinking romantically about Marianne, but not so much if he is merely being neighborly. Your mileage may vary.
In the book, of course, Brandon doesn’t fall for Marianne at all until well after Willoughby begins to court her (in Chapter 10), so both this film and the 2008 version are inaccurate in that respect. The 2008 version just makes Brandon far too aggressive in expressing his feelings.
By the way, do any male characters in Austen’s novels ever give flowers to women? I can’t think of any, although I don’t find it too difficult to imagine Mr. Knightley bringing some to the Bateses and Jane Fairfax (he doesn’t, I’m pretty sure, but it still seems like something that would be in character for him). The closest things to it that I can think of right now are Mr. Knightley’s various small gifts (not to Emma, though) and Robert Martin (who possibly doesn’t count, since he isn’t a “gentleman”) fetching walnuts for Harriet Smith. Well, at least walnuts, like flowers, are plant parts. 😉
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
That would indeed be entertaining - I might just take that up this long winter. One could even make a drinking game out of it 😄
I believe that the principal issue taken by Elinor with the Allenham visit (despite the 2008 adaptation indicating otherwise) was the impropriety of the visit while Mrs. Smith was in residence, as Marianne had no acquaintance with her, rather than the lack of chaperone. That particular breach of propriety would not be repeated at Delaford, although, I agree that the lack of chaperone is questionable. Particularly with so very virile a Brandon, surely?
Davies' take on Mr. Knightley was odd - but his take on Frank Churchill - as a genuine villain, who has seduced Jane Fairfax before his advent in and her return to Highbury - even odder. I agree with you that his intent was not successfully achieved, and am grateful - I think that, though flawed, his, Sue Birtwistle's, and Diarmuid Lawrence's "Emma" is an excellent adaptation overall. But I wouldn't take what he says without a shaker or two of salt - I think he is a mischief-maker, as I've said.
Edward Ferrars is more appealing in the 1995 film than the novel as a character - and partly due to omission of some of the novel's circumstances you note. As much, of course, because Hugh Grant is very appealing himself, and dryly funny.
I have little sympathy for Lucy - her unscrupulousness is distasteful, to say the least, and she deliberately torments Elinor; she need not have been gratuitously cruel.
I'm with you on Willoughby; no sympathy from me, either. He loses me with the line, as he leaves the Dashwoods - "I will not torment myself further," as he leaves the Dashwood ladies all in torment. And Mr. Palmer, alike, has made his bed, which could be a LOT less comfortable than it is - he has a kind, cheerful and pretty wife - he is no Mr. Bennet.
I will answer more on Marianne and Brandon at another time, but what I meant was that he has been on the sidelines of Marianne's life - and has wanted her happiness, but has no ability to much affect it. No, I do not mean that Marianne is a martyr, nor that she does not, indeed, draw both comfort and pleasure from his company and attention - much later, nearing the end of the story. Most of the narrative, Brandon is not a factor in her interests. And I do note, and like, that the 1995 film does show us a bit more of Marianne's power, as well as her agency. We do see, clearly, that she has made Brandon radiantly happy, and that her own quite real happiness is a little soberer than his. The 2008 Marianne, with respect to Brandon, is more acted-upon than acting - she is more subordinated to him, as we have discussed.
But I am delighted to have been misunderstood, as it gives me your lovely disquisition, upon which more to come.
Oh, right. So, she secretly trained a flock of sandflies.
That’s a good point about the Allenham tour. You’re right that, in the book, the main problem was that it was inappropriate for Marianne to visit while Mrs. Smith was there. Hmm... I went back to check the miniseries, and during that particular scene, Willoughby says of Mrs. Smith, “She is away on a short visit,” and then mentions chaperones to Marianne, so those lines must have been in the back of my mind when I wrote my earlier post.
Oh, yes, I remember Davies’s strange interpretation of Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax’s relationship! I can see where he got the idea that Jane was seduced, but I’m glad that it does not really come across in the Emma television film.
What I mean about Lucy is not that I do sympathize with her, but that she is in a bad situation that most likely would make me feel some sympathy for her if she were a better person and not so mercenary. Throwing off Edward and marrying Robert is simply despicable. I also agree that she is needlessly unpleasant to Elinor, who tolerates her for far longer than I think I would be able to.
As for the misunderstanding -- I am so embarrassed to have missed your point to such an extent. Sorry about that! Somehow, I was under the impression that you were referring to Marianne and Brandon at the end of the film only, not to their interactions with each other in earlier scenes. I absolutely agree that Brandon fails to contribute much to Marianne’s happiness for most of the 1995 film.
Although I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m biased, I know I got carried away, in that last post, expressing my enjoyment of the film’s version of Marianne and Brandon’s relationship. I definitely agree, though, about the stronger focus on Marianne’s agency than is seen in some versions; that’s one of my main reasons for liking it. And while I wouldn’t say that Austen completely denies Marianne any agency at the end of the novel, I do think that she treats it flippantly. Tongue-in-cheek or not, that passage feels a little depressing. The 2008 version allows Marianne more agency than that, I think, but Brandon’s dominance and power tend to overshadow it. Again, it’s as if the 2008 filmmakers (especially Davies) couldn’t fathom any reasonable person not immediately falling for this character. And on that note, proceed with caution on that drinking game. 😁
"Courage is found in unlikely places." ~ The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien