There's a tiny but brilliant scene early on in 1995's Sense and Sensibility, that for me, sums up so much of the film's warmth and genius. Willoughby, the handsome and dashing suitor of young and passionate Marianne Dashwood, is visiting at the Dashwood Cottage. While the rest of the family sits at a somewhat discreet distance required of chaperones, Willoughby leans in scandalously close to Marianne, murmuring what we can only guess as mesmerizing endearments. He then tenderly lifts a lock of her hair and cuts it off before bringing it to his lips to kiss and keep...presumably forever.
The film cuts away from the flirtatious and infatuated couple to Marianne's older sister Elinor, just a few feet away. Elinor is trying to feign disinterest in her sister's affair; if nothing else, her good breeding and natural reserve would serve as a hefty motivation to keep her eyes averted. But she simply cannot help but steal one look, and catches the tender moment as it happens. What crosses her face is wistfulness mixed with a touch of scandalized worry. What we're given in this moment tells us as much about Elinor as anything else we see her say and do, though much of her characterization backs up what we learn here: that Elinor too, despite her sometimes almost chilly propriety, has a heart that longs for love, and that she is truly concerned about her sister's very open and public display of affection for a man that they still barely know.
What makes this scene so brilliant, and why I chose to start my review with it, is that it shows the depth and brilliance of this film adaptation of Jane Austen's novel. It also showcases Emma Thompson's prodigious talents as both the actress playing Elinor and the screen-writer who adapted the book. Not only is Thompson a gifted enough actress to show us that tangled web of emotions in one fleeting look, but her inclusion of the scene at all gives us a glimpse into how she read and interpreted the novel in ways that are simultaneously audacious and faithful to Austen's spirit.
For this scene is not in the book. Well, not exactly. Mid-way through the novel, after Willougby has proved himself a cad and has dropped Marianne from his affections for a woman of far greater fortune, he returns her letters and the lock of hair. Marianne, in despair as she tries to understand Willoughby's dishonourable behavior towards her, declares to her sister that: I was once as dear to him as my own soul could wish. This lock of hair, which now he can so readily give up, was begged of me with the most earnest supplication. Had you seen his look, his manner, had you heard his voice at that moment!
And herein lies the genius of Thompson's adaptation. It's as though she read that line and saw it as an invitation to dramatize or externalize something that was only hinted at as a possibility in Austen's narrative. "If you'd only seen what he looked like and heard his voice in that incredible moment" -- well, you can practically hear Thompson ask herself, why not? And who is to say that the Elinor of the book did not do just that, though Austen didn't draw our attention to it? Watching the film, the scene had a certain inevitability about it, as though it was written somewhere on a scrap of a rough draft on Jane Austen's writing table and Emma Thompson happened to pick it up.
Indeed, one can't help but have a sense that there is a enjoyable dialogue going on between Emma Thompson and Jane Austen here, across the centuries. Thompson distills moments from the novel (and it's a beautifully written novel), connects a few unwritten but possible possibilities, fleshes out characters who are only described in a few lines of prose, and manages to give a contemporary audience enough of an "in" into Austen's world that we suddenly understand the romance and get the subtle jokes in new ways.
I can be quite a critic of films adapted from books I love best -- I often feel that filmmakers take huge liberties with the author's story and vision, and sometimes the movies just fall flat because I much prefer the way I've imagined scenes or heard characters' voices as I've read. It's true that I'm a bookworm -- as much as I love movies, if given a choice and a whole day to curl up and relax, I would almost always choose a book first. And yet, the purist in me somehow purrs like a kitten after I see this film. Although it "leaves things out" and "changes" others, there is an undeniable sense that both Emma Thompson and director Ang Lee just "get" what Austen was trying to do. The result is cinematic bliss for this Austen fan.
The casting choices were perhaps most audacious of all. All of the lead actors are, in a word, too OLD. Emma Thompson was 35 when she took on the role of Elinor, who is 19 in the book. Likewise, Hugh Grant, who makes a perfectly wonderful Edward Ferrars (no one can do nervous diffidence quite as well as Grant) is also older than his fictional counterpart. Kate Winslet comes closest to actually representing the right age -- she was 20 when she played 16 year old Marianne -- but her inclusion was perhaps riskier than it sounds given that this film was pre-Titanic and she had only one other feature film to her credit at the time; she actually won the part in an open casting call.
Alan Rickman, her dutiful would-be suitor Colonel Brandon (the diametrically opposed foil to Willoughby) is also probably about a decade too old -- Brandon should be 20 years Marianne's senior, not 30. But it doesn't really matter. Rickman is a brilliant choice for Brandon, not only because he's wonderful actor, but because he's well suited to play the part of a confident, conscientious somewhat melancholy man with a secret past. Rickman, like Thompson, is able to express a full range of conflicting emotions across his features in just a few moments. We believe in his faithfulness and rock-solidness (and the fact that he's older and seems a bit boring lends credence to the plot point that impetuous Marianne would never look at him twice while Willoughby was anywhere in the vicinity). Women a bit more mature than Marianne will have no trouble seeing the attractiveness in Brandon's character, however, and Rickman plays the role so that a virile and passionate sensitivity shimmers just under the surface of his proper public demeanor. (Women reading this review may now sigh, while the men guffaw --- you guys are remembering Rickman in Die Hard, right?)
The story, although definitely an adaptation, follows the plot of the novel fairly closely. Like any Austen story, Sense and Sensibility focuses on sisters. It also focuses on two major character traits, with Elinor representing sense (reserve, propriety, common sense) and Marianne representing sensibility (passion, deep feeling, spontaneity). The choices both women make, especially in their actions and reactions to the men interested in romancing them, force the reader, and in this case the viewer, to think long and thoughtfully about the value and drawbacks of being either too "sensible" or too "sensate."
It may not sound like the ingredients for a great movie, but believe me, it works. Marianne and Elinor, again like most Austen heroines, are somewhat poor gentlewomen who cannot inherit the money or land they should due to the gender-biased inheritance laws of the day. Yet because of their social class, they're not really trained or expected to work for their living either, which puts them at something of a disadvantage. Thus marriage is not only a romantic goal, but an eminently practical and necessary one...and since many young men from prosperous families will not marry girls without sizable money or property (or at least their mamas won't let them), there are often plenty of obstacles that stand in the way of true love. Add to all this the almost always present mistaken first impressions that Austen emphasizes in human relationships, and you're all set for a fascinating, character-driven story.
The Dashwood sisters' case is perhaps more poignant than other Austen heriones', because their father wished for them to be taken care of when he died, and actually thought he had dealt with the issue by requesting their half-brother (who inherited everything) to "do right" by them. Unfortunately, John Dashwood is married to one of the most conniving, grasping women imaginable. Austen (and Thompson's) acerbic wit comes into play here, and Fanny Dashwood is wonderfully and scathingly rendered by the pinch-faced Harriet Walter. The montage of scenes, very early in the film, when she manages to talk her husband down, step by step, from his noble ambitions to give his half-sisters part of the inheritance, is hysterically funny -- and encapsulates several pages of dialogue from the novel into just a few short scenes. It also sets up the dilemma for the Dashwoods, who must soon remove themselves from their comfortable home (now owned by Fanny!) and take a smaller place in the country with their mother and younger sister.
Ironically, it is Fanny's brother Edward, played by Hugh Grant, who makes our stalwart, sensible Elinor lose her heart. Edward is as gentle and sensitive as his sister is boring and mean, but is not in any position to speak to Elinor of his love. With a sense of propriety to rival Elinor's, he goes away without a word and Elinor is not sure he will ever come back. She hides her feelings, much to the dismay of passionate Marianne, who thinks the world would be a much happier place if we'd all walk around wearing our hearts on our sleeves.
Marianne loves poetry, long walks in the rain, and wildflowers. We're not surprised when she falls recklessly and foolishly head over heels for the rich and handsome young man down the road. We worry with Elinor about whether or not she's wise to show how much she cares. Kate Winslet does a nice job of portraying Marianne as somewhat tempestuous, but not overly silly -- just young and untried. She's deserving of our sympathy, even if we find ourselves shaking our heads from time to time, and even though we expect the worst of Willoughby (and get it).
How Marianne comes to value stable, steady mature love in neighbor Brandon and how Elinor and Edward finally overcome a myriad of obstacles, including their own shy reserve, is what most of the film is about. Along the way, we're treated to many scenes of the beautiful English countryside, and to witty and well-written dialogue from minor as well as major characters. My favorite minor players are definitely the gregarious and none too tactful neighbor, Mrs. Jennings, played with enjoyable zest by veteran actress Elizabeth Spriggs, and Mrs. Jenning's long-suffering son-in-law, Mr. Palmer, played by Hugh Laurie. Laurie has only a few scenes, and a very few lines, and yet he steals almost every frame he's in with sardonic comic timing.
The entire endeavor is manned by Tiawanese director Ang Lee, whose interesting career has given us such different movies as this one, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Hulk. Not an easy director to characterize, but always fascinating work.
Obviously I love this movie, but what I love most about it is not the great acting, the beautiful filmography, or the lovely period costumes, though they all contribute to the overall feel. What's best are the tiny moments, like the one I began with, captured in Emma Thompson's gifted adaptation and Ang Lee's sure direction.
One of my absolute favorite scenes comes right toward the end, when Edward finally returns to let Elinor know that he's free at last and that he does love her. Our sane and sensible Elinor breaks down into a torrent of weeping so loud (and so poignantly comical, as played by Thompson) that even passionate Marianne is taken aback and rushes the rest of the family from the room so Edward can finally take his weeping beloved in his arms. Now that's a moment!
And moments are incredibly important to Jane Austen. She once described her novels as miniature paintings on bits of ivory. She knew the impact that a simple look, gesture, or bit of dialogue could have on her story, and on the lives of her characters. I think Jane would have loved this film.
copyright 2005, befus
*******
Emma Thompson won a richly deserved Academy award for best adapted screenplay for this film.
When Mr. Dashwood dies, he must leave the bulk of his estate to the son by his first marriage, which leaves his second wife and three daughters (Elino...More at Buy.com Marketplaces
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