Pride and Prejudice - MGM, 1940, starring Greer Garson
I understand there are some people who were introduced to Austen through this film, and as a result have loved it ever since. If you are one of those people, my views may not be to your taste!
This film departs so much from the source material, that it is almost quicker to say in what way it retains it: Almost all of the characters are present, they each share at least some aspect of their character with their counterparts in the book, those that exist have the same relationships to each other, and most of the major plot points of the book are there.
Every review of this movie mentions, if it doesn’t start off with, the costuming. I read a rumour that they had to use leftover Gone With the Wind costumes, but apparently this is not correct. I then thought perhaps they were just made up out of someone’s head for effect; then that they reminded me of the dresses in the CBC’s 1980s Anne of Green Gables; but further research says that they are based on the 1830s (Anne is 1890s -- massive puffed sleeves were “in” in both decades). I finally read a review that suggested that it was a deliberate choice to shift to the 1830s, because the simple empire-waisted shift dress style of Georgian times would remind audiences too much of the Depression, so instead they emulated styles that had been successful in films such as Gone With the Wind. That all sounds plausible.
All I know is that everything visual in the film is jarring. The costumes, make-up, and hair are wrong. The characters’ comportment is wrong -- Olivier’s reputation precedes him, but Darcy is far too physically expressive (it seems Olivier agreed that he didn’t get it quite right). The dialogue is consistently “translated” into less formal 20th century English. The women are all positively unladylike: Jane slouches against a pillar when Bingley is first introduced to her, and throws herself on a bed weeping when she gets a letter to say he’s not coming back from London; Lizzie openly weeps in public and calls herself “a fool” at the garden party, then bursts into tears again during Darcy’s first proposal; they all flounce and throw themselves about; and Kitty and Mary are repeatedly seen drinking to excess - to the extent that Kitty is actually drunk at the Netherfield garden party and Lydia shrieks “She’s drunk as a lord!”, with officers hooting loudly with laughter all around them.
Then there’s Bingley in Jane’s bedroom at Netherfield when she’s ill, peeping at and conversing with her from behind a screen; Lizzie throwing off her clothes in front of Charlotte on her arrival for her visit to the Collins’s home; Miss Bingley sitting in a billiards room while Bingley and Darcy play; Wickham calling, alone, unannounced, on Lizzie, alone, to tell her his sad (false) story of mistreatment by Darcy; and Darcy grabbing and kissing Lady Catherine when she tells him that Lizzie has “refused to refuse” to marry him.
The proposals are too affected, with both Mr Collins and Darcy clutching Lizzie’s hand and kissing it in their unsuccessful proposals, and Darcy calling her “my darling” before she’s even answered him. The interiors seem to me also to be quite wrong, though I can’t give words to how; they just look very American. The music is generally wrong, although what I could see of the dances at the Meryton assembly seem more or less right.
I think, in defence of the film, that every change that is made was to advance a style of story-telling that would appeal to Hollywood 1940s audiences. Unfortunately, it’s entirely antithetical to Austen’s style. This ranges from the changed costumes through to crazy innovations such as carriage races, garden parties, archery lessons, and a do-gooding Lady Catherine, to the fact that the resolution of the whole plot takes place in the last fifteen to twenty minutes of the film. I mean that literally. This is what happens within the last twenty minutes: the Bennets get a letter from Mr Gardiner to say Lydia and Wickham will marry; Lydia and Wickham arrive unannounced to Longbourn, married and preceded by trumpeters (just to show that they’re “Rich, Mamma!”, apparently); Lady de Bourgh then arrives; she has her set-to with Lizzie; there’s then a (non-canon) revelation that Lady de Bourgh was faking her disapproval to see how interested Lizzie was in Darcy and whether she was motivated by his wealth; then there’s Bingley’s proposal and acceptance; then Darcy’s second proposal and acceptance; and then the last-minute (non-canon) appearance of two young men for Mary and Kitty. In fact, the two main proposals and the matching off of Kitty and Mary happen in the last five minutes.
The story-telling is didactic, right from the opening credits (with old Hollywood music) and the storyboard reading “It happened in OLD ENGLAND in the village of Meryton” and then the character list, divided into “Those living at Longbourn,” “Those living at Netherfield,” and “Those living at Rosings.” There’s a lot of “show” where the book (and other adaptations) “tell.” Examples I noticed: the Bennet women witness Darcy and Bingley arriving while out in town, then rush home to get Mr Bennet to visit him; Mary’s, Kitty’s and Lydia’s characters are illustrated by their first scenes, with Mary found in a bookshop, while Kitty and Lydia are giggling with officers at a Punch & Judy show; Jane’s good nature is shown by Bingley’s comment during their first dance that she has told him about all her acquaintance without saying anything malicious; Mr Collins, in his first scene, practices compliments as he walks downstairs to meet the family, which he then immediately uses (I enjoyed this); Darcy’s responds verbally to Lizzie’s angry accusations against him during his first proposal, rather than by letter.
There’s also some standard-issue speeded up and cut action for efficiency. Bingley, Darcy, and Wickham are introduced in the first scene, and the animosity between Darcy and Wickham is shown at the Meryton assembly (at which stage in the books Wickham hasn’t even appeared). The Netherfield ball disappears, some of the action (anything to do with dancing) being moved up to the Meryton assembly and the rest retained at the Netherfield “garden party.” The “visit from our cousin Collins” is used a reason Jane has to get home from Netherfield, rather than the Netherfield and Collins visits being entirely separate affairs (ending one episode and beginning another, in the 1995 version). Rosings appears to be an hour or so away by carriage ride from Longbourn, rather than a day’s journey from Hertford to Kent. There’s no Mr and Mrs Hurst, no Maria Lucas, and the Gardiners and Georgiana Darcy are off-screen. There’s no visit to Derbyshire or accidental encounter by Lizzie of Darcy at Pemberley - all the action there is folded into Lizzie’s visit to Mr Collins and Charlotte.
What I think is intended to give an impression of Englishness, and of the general period, but is just wrong:
There is also broad physical comedy - almost slapstick - galore. That ridiculous carriage race between Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas begins it. There’s then an equally ridiculous scene of Mr Collins chasing Lizzie through the garden at Netherfield, only to put off the trail by Darcy; a weird scene of Bingley translating medical gobbledegook for Jane; and then scenes of Mr Collins and Charlotte at different times racing around their garden at “Rosings” to meet Lady Catherine (Mr Collins scattering chickens in his wake).
To cap all there’s a rather effective (if totally out-of-place in Austen) scene of Lady Catherine arriving at Longbourn and trying to find somewhere to sit down before having her confrontation with Lizzie. (The house is all in disorder because of an inexplicable and non-canon plan for the family to relocate to “cheap lodgings by the sea” in Margate because of Lydia’s disgrace - “To think it has come to Margate!”) Lady Catherine steps on a plate and breaks it, a parrot is moved out of her way, and she then sits on a music box, which has to be plucked from under her bottom by Kitty. The massive ahistorical dresses all the women are wearing contribute to the disorder.
Apparently, MGM felt their audiences wouldn’t laugh at dry verbal sparring alone. The closest Austen got to this sort of thing was a scene in Northanger Abbey where Isabella Thorpe leads Catherine around Bath in pursuit of two young men while affecting to want to avoid them.
There are some things I approve of. Jane and Lizzie’s close relationship is established from the start (although a bit too expressively), with Lizzie telling Jane she will look “Adorable, my love, as always”, at the Meryton assembly. I found that the acting and characterisation of Mr Bennet, Mr Collins, and Miss Bingley all to be enjoyably on point (though the change of Mr Collins’ occupation to “librarian” is just wrong. Trivial, but wrong). Miss Bingley was clever, pretty, and poisonous; and Mr Collins enjoyably pompous, but without being as unlikeable as in some other versions, which makes an interesting change (I think the original text allows room for him to be interpreted as either maliciously narrow-minded or simply clueless). I also quite liked the Collins proposal scene, despite it being too demonstrative. I enjoyed seeing Collins played rather more good-natured, just genuinely dense, especially his “oh dear! Oh dear! Lady Catherine will never approve!” reactions to Mrs Bennet saying Lizzie is foolish. Lady Catherine is also very well-acted - until she suddenly turns into not Lady Catherine anymore.
I also think this is the only film to actually bring to life some of gossip by the good people of Meryton that is alluded to at various stages of the book; gossip about the arrival of Bingley and how many people he’s bringing to the assembly; gossip about Bingley and Jane; gossip about Bingley going off and apparently jilting Jane; gossip about Lydia and Wickham: “To be sure, it would have been more for the advantage of conversation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant farm house. But there was much to be talked of, in marrying her; and the good-natured wishes for her well-doing, which had proceeded before, from all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton, lost but little of their spirit in this change of circumstances, because with such an husband, her misery was considered certain.” Gossip is established as a frame for the film in the first scene, with Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas competing over who has the news of Bingley. (Although, unfortunately, through the rest of the film it seems that most things are simply announced to crowds of people instead of imparted in quiet, private conversations.)
Finally, this was the best version (that I’ve seen yet) at showing Lizzie genuinely getting her head turned by Wickham and being quite 20-year-oldish about it. This process goes on a bit in the book, bubbling away in the background, until Lizzie leaves Longbourn for Kent and then Derbyshire; to such an extent that Mr Gardiner actually warns her against it, because Wickham’s a bad match. The 1995 and 2005 versions don’t make that as clear. Despite her actual age being considerably too old for the part, Greer does act Lizzie quite young.
But unfortunately, and probably for reasons far beyond Greer’s pay-grade, Lizzie is characterised very wrongly. And so is Darcy. This emerges right from the very first lines that set the foundation for their (mis)understanding of each other.
In the book, these lines are: “She is tolerable, I suppose. But not handsome enough to tempt me. And I’m in no humour to give consequence to young ladies who have been slighted by other men.” Lizzie’s reaction is to have “no very warm feelings” towards him, but instantly go away and laugh about it.
In this film, the lines are: “She is tolerable I suppose. But I’m in no mood to give consequence to the middle classes at play” (with laughter). Lizzie, overhearing with Charlotte Lucas, reacts with immediate pique that he is an “insufferable snob” (not far off the mark!). There is no laughter from her.
In the book, Darcy gradually falls more and more in love with Lizzie, at first trying to disguise it, then giving way to it; then, his continued love for her and shock at her disapproval of him, expressed during his first proposal, forms the basis of his change in manner towards her and her family from Pemberley onwards, and of his decision to do the right thing and save her sister from disgrace. Lizzie, meanwhile, forms an early and intense dislike of him, which is subjected to a series of shocks (his proposal, his letter, his behaviour at Pemberley, and his intervention with Lydia and Wickham), until she goes through a complete change of heart, only to find he still loves her also.
In this adaptation, however, they both seem to go back and forth like pendulums between loving and rejecting each other, Taming of the Shrew-style.
First, the Meryton assembly: after Lizzie has overheard Darcy snubbing her, he then immediately (and without explanation) changes his mind, seeks an introduction to her, and asks her to dance. (This is completely against canon, as in the book Lizzie “tells on” Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam at Rosings because he didn’t seek to be introduced to anyone outside of his own party at the Meryton assembly, and he more or less admits it was because he is too awkward.) Worse, Lizzie refuses to dance with him, and then immediately accepts an offer from Wickham - again, completely contrary to the contemporary rules of decorum.
Then, at the Netherfield “garden party”, Darcy appears charmed by her, and makes no effort to disguise it. He defends her from Mr Collins, tries to teach her archery (only to find that, in some way left a mystery, she is already proficient), comforts her when he finds her in most unladylike distress over Miss Bingley’s insults, and even goes so far as to tell her that he admires her defence of Wickham, with a warm, open smile - this is completely out-of-character. Then come the on-the-nose and far-too-informal lines: “At this moment, it’s difficult to believe that you’re so proud.” “At this moment, it’s difficult to believe that you’re so prejudiced. Shall we call it quits and start again?” But then, just as they’ve come to this new understanding, Darcy’s turned off again by her family being, well, her family. Apparently, he forgot? In the book he keeps his feeling suppressed this entire time. There is even an aside that he is glad at one point that their conversation is broken up, as he begins to feel “the danger of paying her too much attention.”
Returning to the film, they then meet at Rosings (as in canon). Darcy is charmed by her again (again, as in canon) and again allows himself to show it (non-canonical). He’s extremely obvious about it, but Lizzie seems not to notice - either we are supposed to believe she is pretending, or else her incomprehension is entirely unbelievable.
And finally, he proposes. The dialogue is kept mostly the same, but it’s jarring and makes little sense in light of the way their relationship has developed. In the film, Darcy doesn’t have to announce that he’s fallen in love with her in spite of his reservations - he’s shown it, repeatedly. And when she says “I hadn’t know you a week before I had decided you were the last man I could ever be prevailed upon to marry” you simply don’t believe her, because if he’d have carried on pursuing her from the time of the garden party, they’d probably have been married by this time. The fact she’s already in love with him and well aware of it is underlined by her looking angry with herself and bursting into tears when he leaves.
Darcy’s explanations to Lizzie’s accusations during the proposal scene are then all given off the cuff. First, he replies to her accusations about Jane and Bingley in the scene itself; and then, when Lydia’s elopement happens, he tells her the Wickham story. Again, this is no doubt in the interests of “showing” rather than “telling” the action, but it’s still out-of-character. Darcy in the book needed time to reflect and decide what to say and how to say it, which is why he wrote a letter. He is not unreserved enough to make off-the-cuff explanations on extremely sensitive (almost taboo, for the era) subjects. As Bingley says, he needs to “study for words of four syllables” before he can feel he’s expressing himself well.
Finally, when the Lydia/Wickham elopement comes out, Darcy finds out about it from some other person, seeks Lizzie out to discuss it with her, and asks her permission to go after them. Again, this is completely anti-canonical. Darcy did this secretly out of his own principles - both to do what was right in his own mind (believing himself to blame for not making Wickham’s character public), and to save Lizzie from misery.
There are a million other tiny niggles: Charlotte is far too pretty, and her acceptance of Mr Collins isn't contextualised with her age and chances for marriage; Mrs Bennet actually takes Jane out of the carriage when she goes to Netherfield, rather than it “not being available”; Lizzie saying to Miss Bingley and Darcy that “If you want to be really refined, you have to be dead. There’s no one as dignified as a mummy”; there’s a string quartet for Mary’s song at the garden party; Charlotte Lucas’s marriage is announced generally, instead of in a series of private conversations, and Mrs Bennet responds by loudly making all the accusations of gold-digging to their faces that she only makes to her immediate family in the book; Lizzie speaks far too plainly of Mr Collins to Charlotte, including of his “defects of character” - conflating two conversations from the book (one general, and one specific); Darcy calls Lizzie “Elizabeth” after “offering his services” to get Wickham to marry Lydia; perhaps most jarringly, there is a late a conversation between Lizzie and Jane in which Lizzie says she “loves” Darcy (this word isn’t even used by Marianne Dashwood!), and then Jane gives detailed descriptions of vivid dreams of being with Bingley; and, in case my disapprobation wasn’t obvious, the travesty of Lady Catherine’s character involved in her suddenly approving of Lizzie and fighting her corner, and the silly “all neatly paired up” ending.
Finally, a last blooper, which I have to admit I’m ashamed not to have caught myself: Lady Catherine claiming to be able to disinherit an adult man!
In conclusion, I understand why it is the way it is. It has some redeeming features. But it is not Austen. It falls between the two stools of a faithful adaptation and a modern re-making, and I am afraid, it therefore fails at both. I doubt I’ll watch it again.
This film departs so much from the source material, that it is almost quicker to say in what way it retains it: Almost all of the characters are present, they each share at least some aspect of their character with their counterparts in the book, those that exist have the same relationships to each other, and most of the major plot points of the book are there.
Every review of this movie mentions, if it doesn’t start off with, the costuming. I read a rumour that they had to use leftover Gone With the Wind costumes, but apparently this is not correct. I then thought perhaps they were just made up out of someone’s head for effect; then that they reminded me of the dresses in the CBC’s 1980s Anne of Green Gables; but further research says that they are based on the 1830s (Anne is 1890s -- massive puffed sleeves were “in” in both decades). I finally read a review that suggested that it was a deliberate choice to shift to the 1830s, because the simple empire-waisted shift dress style of Georgian times would remind audiences too much of the Depression, so instead they emulated styles that had been successful in films such as Gone With the Wind. That all sounds plausible.
All I know is that everything visual in the film is jarring. The costumes, make-up, and hair are wrong. The characters’ comportment is wrong -- Olivier’s reputation precedes him, but Darcy is far too physically expressive (it seems Olivier agreed that he didn’t get it quite right). The dialogue is consistently “translated” into less formal 20th century English. The women are all positively unladylike: Jane slouches against a pillar when Bingley is first introduced to her, and throws herself on a bed weeping when she gets a letter to say he’s not coming back from London; Lizzie openly weeps in public and calls herself “a fool” at the garden party, then bursts into tears again during Darcy’s first proposal; they all flounce and throw themselves about; and Kitty and Mary are repeatedly seen drinking to excess - to the extent that Kitty is actually drunk at the Netherfield garden party and Lydia shrieks “She’s drunk as a lord!”, with officers hooting loudly with laughter all around them.
Then there’s Bingley in Jane’s bedroom at Netherfield when she’s ill, peeping at and conversing with her from behind a screen; Lizzie throwing off her clothes in front of Charlotte on her arrival for her visit to the Collins’s home; Miss Bingley sitting in a billiards room while Bingley and Darcy play; Wickham calling, alone, unannounced, on Lizzie, alone, to tell her his sad (false) story of mistreatment by Darcy; and Darcy grabbing and kissing Lady Catherine when she tells him that Lizzie has “refused to refuse” to marry him.
The proposals are too affected, with both Mr Collins and Darcy clutching Lizzie’s hand and kissing it in their unsuccessful proposals, and Darcy calling her “my darling” before she’s even answered him. The interiors seem to me also to be quite wrong, though I can’t give words to how; they just look very American. The music is generally wrong, although what I could see of the dances at the Meryton assembly seem more or less right.
I think, in defence of the film, that every change that is made was to advance a style of story-telling that would appeal to Hollywood 1940s audiences. Unfortunately, it’s entirely antithetical to Austen’s style. This ranges from the changed costumes through to crazy innovations such as carriage races, garden parties, archery lessons, and a do-gooding Lady Catherine, to the fact that the resolution of the whole plot takes place in the last fifteen to twenty minutes of the film. I mean that literally. This is what happens within the last twenty minutes: the Bennets get a letter from Mr Gardiner to say Lydia and Wickham will marry; Lydia and Wickham arrive unannounced to Longbourn, married and preceded by trumpeters (just to show that they’re “Rich, Mamma!”, apparently); Lady de Bourgh then arrives; she has her set-to with Lizzie; there’s then a (non-canon) revelation that Lady de Bourgh was faking her disapproval to see how interested Lizzie was in Darcy and whether she was motivated by his wealth; then there’s Bingley’s proposal and acceptance; then Darcy’s second proposal and acceptance; and then the last-minute (non-canon) appearance of two young men for Mary and Kitty. In fact, the two main proposals and the matching off of Kitty and Mary happen in the last five minutes.
The story-telling is didactic, right from the opening credits (with old Hollywood music) and the storyboard reading “It happened in OLD ENGLAND in the village of Meryton” and then the character list, divided into “Those living at Longbourn,” “Those living at Netherfield,” and “Those living at Rosings.” There’s a lot of “show” where the book (and other adaptations) “tell.” Examples I noticed: the Bennet women witness Darcy and Bingley arriving while out in town, then rush home to get Mr Bennet to visit him; Mary’s, Kitty’s and Lydia’s characters are illustrated by their first scenes, with Mary found in a bookshop, while Kitty and Lydia are giggling with officers at a Punch & Judy show; Jane’s good nature is shown by Bingley’s comment during their first dance that she has told him about all her acquaintance without saying anything malicious; Mr Collins, in his first scene, practices compliments as he walks downstairs to meet the family, which he then immediately uses (I enjoyed this); Darcy’s responds verbally to Lizzie’s angry accusations against him during his first proposal, rather than by letter.
There’s also some standard-issue speeded up and cut action for efficiency. Bingley, Darcy, and Wickham are introduced in the first scene, and the animosity between Darcy and Wickham is shown at the Meryton assembly (at which stage in the books Wickham hasn’t even appeared). The Netherfield ball disappears, some of the action (anything to do with dancing) being moved up to the Meryton assembly and the rest retained at the Netherfield “garden party.” The “visit from our cousin Collins” is used a reason Jane has to get home from Netherfield, rather than the Netherfield and Collins visits being entirely separate affairs (ending one episode and beginning another, in the 1995 version). Rosings appears to be an hour or so away by carriage ride from Longbourn, rather than a day’s journey from Hertford to Kent. There’s no Mr and Mrs Hurst, no Maria Lucas, and the Gardiners and Georgiana Darcy are off-screen. There’s no visit to Derbyshire or accidental encounter by Lizzie of Darcy at Pemberley - all the action there is folded into Lizzie’s visit to Mr Collins and Charlotte.
What I think is intended to give an impression of Englishness, and of the general period, but is just wrong:
- Expressions like “lawks-a-daisy” (Cockney), and “pudding face” (very unrefined!);
- The garden party (the concept was created by Queen Victoria in the 1860s, for royalty and nobility only);
- References to the waltz being “very modern” (either the setting is 1810, in which case that dance won’t be considered decent for four years yet, and that only in high society; or it’s 1830 and it’s not particularly “modern” anymore); and the polka mazurka (composed 1854);
- A bizarre exchange about whether or not Jane will be served turtle soup at Netherfield when she goes to visit (actually seems to be vaguely historically accurate but still really weird);
- The equally bizarre archery lesson at the Netherfield “garden party” (again, it seems archery might have been an acceptable pursuit for young ladies in the period, but I firmly doubt it would be considered appropriate for a young gentleman to give informal tutoring in it at a party!);
- Mary objecting that Mrs Bennet steaming open one of Jane’s letters is “contrary to the principles of Magna Carta!” (I suspect this line was originally “It’s unconstitutional!” until someone decided to British it up. Separately, this has been identified as a blooper because gummed envelopes didn’t exist at the time.)
There is also broad physical comedy - almost slapstick - galore. That ridiculous carriage race between Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas begins it. There’s then an equally ridiculous scene of Mr Collins chasing Lizzie through the garden at Netherfield, only to put off the trail by Darcy; a weird scene of Bingley translating medical gobbledegook for Jane; and then scenes of Mr Collins and Charlotte at different times racing around their garden at “Rosings” to meet Lady Catherine (Mr Collins scattering chickens in his wake).
To cap all there’s a rather effective (if totally out-of-place in Austen) scene of Lady Catherine arriving at Longbourn and trying to find somewhere to sit down before having her confrontation with Lizzie. (The house is all in disorder because of an inexplicable and non-canon plan for the family to relocate to “cheap lodgings by the sea” in Margate because of Lydia’s disgrace - “To think it has come to Margate!”) Lady Catherine steps on a plate and breaks it, a parrot is moved out of her way, and she then sits on a music box, which has to be plucked from under her bottom by Kitty. The massive ahistorical dresses all the women are wearing contribute to the disorder.
Apparently, MGM felt their audiences wouldn’t laugh at dry verbal sparring alone. The closest Austen got to this sort of thing was a scene in Northanger Abbey where Isabella Thorpe leads Catherine around Bath in pursuit of two young men while affecting to want to avoid them.
There are some things I approve of. Jane and Lizzie’s close relationship is established from the start (although a bit too expressively), with Lizzie telling Jane she will look “Adorable, my love, as always”, at the Meryton assembly. I found that the acting and characterisation of Mr Bennet, Mr Collins, and Miss Bingley all to be enjoyably on point (though the change of Mr Collins’ occupation to “librarian” is just wrong. Trivial, but wrong). Miss Bingley was clever, pretty, and poisonous; and Mr Collins enjoyably pompous, but without being as unlikeable as in some other versions, which makes an interesting change (I think the original text allows room for him to be interpreted as either maliciously narrow-minded or simply clueless). I also quite liked the Collins proposal scene, despite it being too demonstrative. I enjoyed seeing Collins played rather more good-natured, just genuinely dense, especially his “oh dear! Oh dear! Lady Catherine will never approve!” reactions to Mrs Bennet saying Lizzie is foolish. Lady Catherine is also very well-acted - until she suddenly turns into not Lady Catherine anymore.
I also think this is the only film to actually bring to life some of gossip by the good people of Meryton that is alluded to at various stages of the book; gossip about the arrival of Bingley and how many people he’s bringing to the assembly; gossip about Bingley and Jane; gossip about Bingley going off and apparently jilting Jane; gossip about Lydia and Wickham: “To be sure, it would have been more for the advantage of conversation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant farm house. But there was much to be talked of, in marrying her; and the good-natured wishes for her well-doing, which had proceeded before, from all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton, lost but little of their spirit in this change of circumstances, because with such an husband, her misery was considered certain.” Gossip is established as a frame for the film in the first scene, with Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas competing over who has the news of Bingley. (Although, unfortunately, through the rest of the film it seems that most things are simply announced to crowds of people instead of imparted in quiet, private conversations.)
Finally, this was the best version (that I’ve seen yet) at showing Lizzie genuinely getting her head turned by Wickham and being quite 20-year-oldish about it. This process goes on a bit in the book, bubbling away in the background, until Lizzie leaves Longbourn for Kent and then Derbyshire; to such an extent that Mr Gardiner actually warns her against it, because Wickham’s a bad match. The 1995 and 2005 versions don’t make that as clear. Despite her actual age being considerably too old for the part, Greer does act Lizzie quite young.
But unfortunately, and probably for reasons far beyond Greer’s pay-grade, Lizzie is characterised very wrongly. And so is Darcy. This emerges right from the very first lines that set the foundation for their (mis)understanding of each other.
In the book, these lines are: “She is tolerable, I suppose. But not handsome enough to tempt me. And I’m in no humour to give consequence to young ladies who have been slighted by other men.” Lizzie’s reaction is to have “no very warm feelings” towards him, but instantly go away and laugh about it.
In this film, the lines are: “She is tolerable I suppose. But I’m in no mood to give consequence to the middle classes at play” (with laughter). Lizzie, overhearing with Charlotte Lucas, reacts with immediate pique that he is an “insufferable snob” (not far off the mark!). There is no laughter from her.
In the book, Darcy gradually falls more and more in love with Lizzie, at first trying to disguise it, then giving way to it; then, his continued love for her and shock at her disapproval of him, expressed during his first proposal, forms the basis of his change in manner towards her and her family from Pemberley onwards, and of his decision to do the right thing and save her sister from disgrace. Lizzie, meanwhile, forms an early and intense dislike of him, which is subjected to a series of shocks (his proposal, his letter, his behaviour at Pemberley, and his intervention with Lydia and Wickham), until she goes through a complete change of heart, only to find he still loves her also.
In this adaptation, however, they both seem to go back and forth like pendulums between loving and rejecting each other, Taming of the Shrew-style.
First, the Meryton assembly: after Lizzie has overheard Darcy snubbing her, he then immediately (and without explanation) changes his mind, seeks an introduction to her, and asks her to dance. (This is completely against canon, as in the book Lizzie “tells on” Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam at Rosings because he didn’t seek to be introduced to anyone outside of his own party at the Meryton assembly, and he more or less admits it was because he is too awkward.) Worse, Lizzie refuses to dance with him, and then immediately accepts an offer from Wickham - again, completely contrary to the contemporary rules of decorum.
Then, at the Netherfield “garden party”, Darcy appears charmed by her, and makes no effort to disguise it. He defends her from Mr Collins, tries to teach her archery (only to find that, in some way left a mystery, she is already proficient), comforts her when he finds her in most unladylike distress over Miss Bingley’s insults, and even goes so far as to tell her that he admires her defence of Wickham, with a warm, open smile - this is completely out-of-character. Then come the on-the-nose and far-too-informal lines: “At this moment, it’s difficult to believe that you’re so proud.” “At this moment, it’s difficult to believe that you’re so prejudiced. Shall we call it quits and start again?” But then, just as they’ve come to this new understanding, Darcy’s turned off again by her family being, well, her family. Apparently, he forgot? In the book he keeps his feeling suppressed this entire time. There is even an aside that he is glad at one point that their conversation is broken up, as he begins to feel “the danger of paying her too much attention.”
Returning to the film, they then meet at Rosings (as in canon). Darcy is charmed by her again (again, as in canon) and again allows himself to show it (non-canonical). He’s extremely obvious about it, but Lizzie seems not to notice - either we are supposed to believe she is pretending, or else her incomprehension is entirely unbelievable.
And finally, he proposes. The dialogue is kept mostly the same, but it’s jarring and makes little sense in light of the way their relationship has developed. In the film, Darcy doesn’t have to announce that he’s fallen in love with her in spite of his reservations - he’s shown it, repeatedly. And when she says “I hadn’t know you a week before I had decided you were the last man I could ever be prevailed upon to marry” you simply don’t believe her, because if he’d have carried on pursuing her from the time of the garden party, they’d probably have been married by this time. The fact she’s already in love with him and well aware of it is underlined by her looking angry with herself and bursting into tears when he leaves.
Darcy’s explanations to Lizzie’s accusations during the proposal scene are then all given off the cuff. First, he replies to her accusations about Jane and Bingley in the scene itself; and then, when Lydia’s elopement happens, he tells her the Wickham story. Again, this is no doubt in the interests of “showing” rather than “telling” the action, but it’s still out-of-character. Darcy in the book needed time to reflect and decide what to say and how to say it, which is why he wrote a letter. He is not unreserved enough to make off-the-cuff explanations on extremely sensitive (almost taboo, for the era) subjects. As Bingley says, he needs to “study for words of four syllables” before he can feel he’s expressing himself well.
Finally, when the Lydia/Wickham elopement comes out, Darcy finds out about it from some other person, seeks Lizzie out to discuss it with her, and asks her permission to go after them. Again, this is completely anti-canonical. Darcy did this secretly out of his own principles - both to do what was right in his own mind (believing himself to blame for not making Wickham’s character public), and to save Lizzie from misery.
There are a million other tiny niggles: Charlotte is far too pretty, and her acceptance of Mr Collins isn't contextualised with her age and chances for marriage; Mrs Bennet actually takes Jane out of the carriage when she goes to Netherfield, rather than it “not being available”; Lizzie saying to Miss Bingley and Darcy that “If you want to be really refined, you have to be dead. There’s no one as dignified as a mummy”; there’s a string quartet for Mary’s song at the garden party; Charlotte Lucas’s marriage is announced generally, instead of in a series of private conversations, and Mrs Bennet responds by loudly making all the accusations of gold-digging to their faces that she only makes to her immediate family in the book; Lizzie speaks far too plainly of Mr Collins to Charlotte, including of his “defects of character” - conflating two conversations from the book (one general, and one specific); Darcy calls Lizzie “Elizabeth” after “offering his services” to get Wickham to marry Lydia; perhaps most jarringly, there is a late a conversation between Lizzie and Jane in which Lizzie says she “loves” Darcy (this word isn’t even used by Marianne Dashwood!), and then Jane gives detailed descriptions of vivid dreams of being with Bingley; and, in case my disapprobation wasn’t obvious, the travesty of Lady Catherine’s character involved in her suddenly approving of Lizzie and fighting her corner, and the silly “all neatly paired up” ending.
Finally, a last blooper, which I have to admit I’m ashamed not to have caught myself: Lady Catherine claiming to be able to disinherit an adult man!
In conclusion, I understand why it is the way it is. It has some redeeming features. But it is not Austen. It falls between the two stools of a faithful adaptation and a modern re-making, and I am afraid, it therefore fails at both. I doubt I’ll watch it again.