Ahoy, squirts! Quint here with a review from a test screening of yet another version of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. The review is well written... perhaps influenced by Jane Austen herself?... however not too enthusiastic. I know that Keira and Jena Malone are hottie bo-botties, Brenda Blythn is one of my favorite charactor actors and Donald Sutherland still rocks. Count me curious... Please keep in mind that the movie doesn't come out until September, so there may be some time to find the timing. Enjoy the review!
Screened the new Pride and Prejudice yesterday. The test audience was sizable, skewing toward the younger demographic… shouldn’t be a problem for this film, though. This version is specifically tailored to the tastes of the faux-intellectual, pseudo-erudite college crowd… you know, the sort of folks who’ve read the book—and forgotten about it.
That’s the problem. The most socially accomplished individuals don’t straddle the schisms between cliques—they walk all over them, back and forth. See, the “can’t beat ‘em… join ‘em” philosophy is time tested. There’s no point in attempting to attain a catholic mastery of the social order; do one thing or the other, then excel. This Pride and Prejudice can’t make up its mind.
There’s something about the movie that feels so… sophomoric. It isn’t, however, your run-of-the-mill Hollywood tripe; on the contrary, it is self-consciously urbane, projecting the mannerisms of Jane Austen’s novel with the frenzied eagerness of a terrier on speed. The script is remarkably faithful to the original story, but it feels discombobulated. The pacing borders on attention-deficit, substituting aren’t-I-clever humor and bathos-drenched grandiosity for dramatic space and—here’s the kicker—narrative dynamics. In other words, it tries a bit too hard.
To be fair, it hits a lot of the marks. Props go to the art department and cinematographer Roman Osin… it’s pretty. Director Joe Wright is either a fascinating mainstream director or a confused art house hack… I choose the former. Wright’s directorial style may be somewhat derivative, but it’s interesting to see a Leone influence juxtaposed with something a little more… genteel.
The cast, too, acquits itself well. Judi Dench chews the scenery. Donald Sutherland is as close to badass as anything in the film. Keira Knightley contributes a surprisingly effective performance as the protagonist, Elizabeth Bennet; I sort of can’t believe I’m saying this, but nubile, svelte, whatever… the girl’s not half bad. The acting, in fact, is the film’s principal virtue; all of the performers manage to capture the nuance of Austen’s writing, even if the film itself is convoluted.
But the pacing. Goddamn it, the pacing. Although the script retains the finest moments from the book—even managing to de-emphasize the hypothetical gelding of the proto-feminist heroine—it just moves so damn fast. This will leave the viewer with one of two impressions: (a) an unhappy sort of inebriation OR (b) the notion that something really long, really boring just went by. You should have heard the kids complaining at the urinals.
It’s no secret that cinematic adaptations seldom work. The screen is seductive, imperious—a deceptively intimate experience that, given the smelly, sweaty milieu of the modern movie theater, sometimes amounts to legalized voyeurism. The written word, however, requires a more proactive involvement, a level of intellectual commitment that rewards patience and devotion. They’re fundamentally dissimilar entities; what works in one medium seldom works in the other. That’s why those Star Wars adaptations are so mind-numbingly anemic. That’s also why no one—no one—will ever get Pride and Prejudice completely right.
I reserve the right to hope that the film will benefit from some re-editing… but it seems impossible to wholly rework—not without extensively deconstructing the present cut. It’s all so sad… especially because there’s so much stuff to like. Maybe the actors will get some recognition—and rightfully so—but no one will aver that this “new” Pride and Prejudice is the second coming. Faux-intellectual? Bullshit. This film—this cut—proves it: it’s hard to be proud of your college years.
Rhythm-a-ning
