I have got to get one of those I heart Darcy bookbags.
Showing posts with label Austen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Austen. Show all posts
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Austenland
Sorry, Sister Hale, the movie might just be better. I missed Jane's running commentary in her head and the chapters interspersed with old boyfriends, but I think no more than two minutes passed during the duration of the film when I didn't laugh right out loud. Well cast. Well played. Well done. Kudos to three Mormon girls for pulling this one off in a way that is hilarious, and at times risque without sinking to the level of raunchy that passes for the new funny. Here's to Jerusha, Shannon and yes, even you Stephenie. . . as well as the three awesome women I had my girl's night with.
I have got to get one of those I heart Darcy bookbags.
I have got to get one of those I heart Darcy bookbags.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
A Trio of Favorite Things
Mother's Day weekend involved three wonderful things--movie night with my boys, Jane Austen and a culinary creation so sublime that I'm daydreaming about leftovers at nine in the morning.
Last summer we started a tradition of Family Movie Night on Friday nights. These boys forget to tie their laces, change their underwear, make their beds, wipe their bottoms . . . but they never forget a Family Movie Night. Sometimes they start asking about it on Monday. Last weekend we went to How to Train Your Dragon. 2D.
I'm not sure if this movie is for everyone. It was surprisingly violent, at least in a cartoon dragon-y sort of way. The Jedi loved it, even laughing uproariously in parts that I worried would scare them. My gripe with Dreamworks movies (a la Shrek) is that they are generally laden with pop culture references and mild innuendo in an effort to interest parents. How to Train Your Dragon, however, avoids this stupid trap and instead just tells a great story. I loved every part of this movie--the action, the father-son angst, the coming of age bit, the puppy love story--but mostly I loved the dragon. "Toothless" is the sweetest/most terrifying creature in recent imagination. This movie is great family fare. If your kids are old enough/willing to wear the glasses, there were a few scenes in this that would have been completely awesome 3D.
And if the wonderful Astrid doesn't inspire a whole line of Gothic-Viking-Chic this fall, I will be very surprised.
I downloaded a reading of Northanger Abbey onto my iPod last weekend and spent my paper route with Jane Austen's snarky voice in my ear.
But is she too snarky in Northanger?
I know that Northanger Abbey is meant to spoof the Gothic novels that were gaining so much popularity the same time that Austen wrote. She does this rather effectively. In my mind, however, Austen is spoofing far more than the Gothic novel. She is also writing a gentle reproof of romance novels in the way that she characterizes her heroine, and she warns the reader before she takes the protagonist down any path--reassuring the reader that she isn't going to break the expected mold. Catherine Morland is as bland as any heroine anywhere in literature. I can't decide if Austen's point is that even a girl totally average in every respect can have her own kind of adventure, or if her point is that what seems adventurous in a moment is really just entirely mediocre and worth mocking.
Poor Catherine. Her chief charm in attracting her hero is that in adoring him, she becomes adorable. He is funny and sarcastic, when he isn't working hard at forming her opinions, but she misses almost all of it. He likes her for her childlike demeanor, un-sophistication and modesty. I think he is hoping that if he gets her young then he can train her up right. Yuck.
This is one of Austen's last-published novels, and my latest listening of it made me think that her writing tone is tired, jaded and deeply cynical. I was surprised to learn that it was her first written novel. The brilliant Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility are not, therefore, earlier on the spectrum of her biting wit, but are instead a pulling back of Austen's natural inclination to tease, mock and parody. Northanger Abbey has all of the bite and very little of the charm of her more famous works.
I can appreciate the bits that parody the Gothic novels, but Austen's mockery seems to stem from the fact that the gruesome only exists in run-away imagination and doesn't in any way reflect any situation that could actually happen. And yet, two generations after her publication, Jack the Ripper terrorized the streets of London. As lovely as Austen's world is, her's is the truly imaginary one.
As narrator, Austen says some interesting things in defense of the novel and its importance, while complaining that boring authors of history, etc. got all the legitimacy and pay. There is something to be said for this: Austen was paid ten pounds for this novel. A pittance even then. Her brother published it posthumously, as the family was in abject poverty; a situation that might have been entirely avoided if a much younger Austen had not once rejected a wealthy suitor. Even the poverty-stricken Jane couldn't help but appreciate that irony as she lay dying.
As for my Mother's Day dinner, I cooked it myself. If this sounds lame, please realize that this is exactly as I wanted it. I whipped up an amazing dinner, created a huge mess, and didn't do a single dish. Bliss.
Here is what we had:
Chicken Florentine Fonduta
Spring Greens (from the garden)
Lemon Rosemary Bread
Rhubarb Crumble with French Vanilla Ice Cream
I will only give the recipe for the first. The second is one of Plantboy's delicious salads including every vegetable available in my fridge or garden; I've posted Lemon Rosemary bread before, and if you haven't made it by now then there is no hope for you; I modified the crisp recipe so heavily that it doesn't really bear writing down. The biggest difference in rhubarb crumble as opposed to an apple or berry one, is that you need to find a recipe that makes some kind of super sweet batter mixed with the rhubarb. I believe the one I used is a modification of one that Desmama posted a year or two ago? I forget.
But here is the piece de resistance:
Serves 4
2 large chicken breasts, pounded to uniform thickness
Olive Oil
3 cloves garlic
2 shallots
2 TBSP butter
3/4 cup apple juice
1 cup chicken stock
1 cup heavy cream
4-6 ounces of some kind of Italian cheese (like fontina or parmesan) or a blend that isn't too heavy on mozarella
Spinach and/or asparagus for four
Short, rough pasta for four (like penne or radiatori or farfalle)
Cook lightly salted chicken in olive oil one medium heat until browned on both sides and cooked through. Pull out of pan and set aside. Add butter to pan with chopped shallots and garlic. Saute over medium heat until they are translucent and soft. At this point, the smell in your house will be so fabulous that you might need to pick yourself up off the ground.
Add stock and juice to the pan and turn the heat up to medium high. Whisk it to deglaze the bottom of the pan. Boil about three minutes until the liquid reduces by half. Reduce heat to medium and whisk in the cup of cream. Allow the mixture to boil until it further reduces and thickens slightly. Stir often. Add cheese and wisk until it is all melted. If the sauce is too thick or stringy, add another 1/4 cup of juice. Keep the sauce covered on low, stirring every few minutes.
While the sauce simmers, put two pots of water on to boil and cut up chicken. Return the chicken to the pan and coat it with sauce. In one pot of boiling water, cook the pasta according to package directions for al dente. Put a steamer on top of the second pot and add loose, frozen spinach into it until warmed through; or steam the tender parts of the asparagus with the woodiest bits cut off. The veggies will only take about five minutes. On Sunday I had both kinds of veggies and it is impossible for me to say which tasted the best. They were both so good. Of course, if you sub the spinach for asparagus, you can't really call this dish chicken "florentine" as that designation is reserved for Italian chicken dishes with spinach in them.
Layer pasta, vegetables, and sauce on each plate or in each pasta bowl. Sprinkle a few pine nuts on top if you are feeling especially Mormet. Wow. So good. I found this picture on line for a very similar recipe. Mine was prettier.
The crumble was a lovely, sweet and tart finish to a wonderful meal. Those chocolate lava cakes wouldn't have been bad either . . . .
I was going to post about getting older as tomorrow is my birthday. This one feels like a milestone in many ways, but this post is already lengthy enough. I will think of you tomorrow as I take a slice of red velvet cake around to my local friends. This might have to do for the rest of you:
Last summer we started a tradition of Family Movie Night on Friday nights. These boys forget to tie their laces, change their underwear, make their beds, wipe their bottoms . . . but they never forget a Family Movie Night. Sometimes they start asking about it on Monday. Last weekend we went to How to Train Your Dragon. 2D.
I'm not sure if this movie is for everyone. It was surprisingly violent, at least in a cartoon dragon-y sort of way. The Jedi loved it, even laughing uproariously in parts that I worried would scare them. My gripe with Dreamworks movies (a la Shrek) is that they are generally laden with pop culture references and mild innuendo in an effort to interest parents. How to Train Your Dragon, however, avoids this stupid trap and instead just tells a great story. I loved every part of this movie--the action, the father-son angst, the coming of age bit, the puppy love story--but mostly I loved the dragon. "Toothless" is the sweetest/most terrifying creature in recent imagination. This movie is great family fare. If your kids are old enough/willing to wear the glasses, there were a few scenes in this that would have been completely awesome 3D.
And if the wonderful Astrid doesn't inspire a whole line of Gothic-Viking-Chic this fall, I will be very surprised.
I downloaded a reading of Northanger Abbey onto my iPod last weekend and spent my paper route with Jane Austen's snarky voice in my ear.
But is she too snarky in Northanger?
I know that Northanger Abbey is meant to spoof the Gothic novels that were gaining so much popularity the same time that Austen wrote. She does this rather effectively. In my mind, however, Austen is spoofing far more than the Gothic novel. She is also writing a gentle reproof of romance novels in the way that she characterizes her heroine, and she warns the reader before she takes the protagonist down any path--reassuring the reader that she isn't going to break the expected mold. Catherine Morland is as bland as any heroine anywhere in literature. I can't decide if Austen's point is that even a girl totally average in every respect can have her own kind of adventure, or if her point is that what seems adventurous in a moment is really just entirely mediocre and worth mocking.
Poor Catherine. Her chief charm in attracting her hero is that in adoring him, she becomes adorable. He is funny and sarcastic, when he isn't working hard at forming her opinions, but she misses almost all of it. He likes her for her childlike demeanor, un-sophistication and modesty. I think he is hoping that if he gets her young then he can train her up right. Yuck.
This is one of Austen's last-published novels, and my latest listening of it made me think that her writing tone is tired, jaded and deeply cynical. I was surprised to learn that it was her first written novel. The brilliant Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility are not, therefore, earlier on the spectrum of her biting wit, but are instead a pulling back of Austen's natural inclination to tease, mock and parody. Northanger Abbey has all of the bite and very little of the charm of her more famous works.
I can appreciate the bits that parody the Gothic novels, but Austen's mockery seems to stem from the fact that the gruesome only exists in run-away imagination and doesn't in any way reflect any situation that could actually happen. And yet, two generations after her publication, Jack the Ripper terrorized the streets of London. As lovely as Austen's world is, her's is the truly imaginary one.
As narrator, Austen says some interesting things in defense of the novel and its importance, while complaining that boring authors of history, etc. got all the legitimacy and pay. There is something to be said for this: Austen was paid ten pounds for this novel. A pittance even then. Her brother published it posthumously, as the family was in abject poverty; a situation that might have been entirely avoided if a much younger Austen had not once rejected a wealthy suitor. Even the poverty-stricken Jane couldn't help but appreciate that irony as she lay dying.
As for my Mother's Day dinner, I cooked it myself. If this sounds lame, please realize that this is exactly as I wanted it. I whipped up an amazing dinner, created a huge mess, and didn't do a single dish. Bliss.
Here is what we had:
Chicken Florentine Fonduta
Spring Greens (from the garden)
Lemon Rosemary Bread
Rhubarb Crumble with French Vanilla Ice Cream
I will only give the recipe for the first. The second is one of Plantboy's delicious salads including every vegetable available in my fridge or garden; I've posted Lemon Rosemary bread before, and if you haven't made it by now then there is no hope for you; I modified the crisp recipe so heavily that it doesn't really bear writing down. The biggest difference in rhubarb crumble as opposed to an apple or berry one, is that you need to find a recipe that makes some kind of super sweet batter mixed with the rhubarb. I believe the one I used is a modification of one that Desmama posted a year or two ago? I forget.
But here is the piece de resistance:
Serves 4
2 large chicken breasts, pounded to uniform thickness
Olive Oil
3 cloves garlic
2 shallots
2 TBSP butter
3/4 cup apple juice
1 cup chicken stock
1 cup heavy cream
4-6 ounces of some kind of Italian cheese (like fontina or parmesan) or a blend that isn't too heavy on mozarella
Spinach and/or asparagus for four
Short, rough pasta for four (like penne or radiatori or farfalle)
Cook lightly salted chicken in olive oil one medium heat until browned on both sides and cooked through. Pull out of pan and set aside. Add butter to pan with chopped shallots and garlic. Saute over medium heat until they are translucent and soft. At this point, the smell in your house will be so fabulous that you might need to pick yourself up off the ground.
Add stock and juice to the pan and turn the heat up to medium high. Whisk it to deglaze the bottom of the pan. Boil about three minutes until the liquid reduces by half. Reduce heat to medium and whisk in the cup of cream. Allow the mixture to boil until it further reduces and thickens slightly. Stir often. Add cheese and wisk until it is all melted. If the sauce is too thick or stringy, add another 1/4 cup of juice. Keep the sauce covered on low, stirring every few minutes.
While the sauce simmers, put two pots of water on to boil and cut up chicken. Return the chicken to the pan and coat it with sauce. In one pot of boiling water, cook the pasta according to package directions for al dente. Put a steamer on top of the second pot and add loose, frozen spinach into it until warmed through; or steam the tender parts of the asparagus with the woodiest bits cut off. The veggies will only take about five minutes. On Sunday I had both kinds of veggies and it is impossible for me to say which tasted the best. They were both so good. Of course, if you sub the spinach for asparagus, you can't really call this dish chicken "florentine" as that designation is reserved for Italian chicken dishes with spinach in them.
Layer pasta, vegetables, and sauce on each plate or in each pasta bowl. Sprinkle a few pine nuts on top if you are feeling especially Mormet. Wow. So good. I found this picture on line for a very similar recipe. Mine was prettier.
The crumble was a lovely, sweet and tart finish to a wonderful meal. Those chocolate lava cakes wouldn't have been bad either . . . .
I was going to post about getting older as tomorrow is my birthday. This one feels like a milestone in many ways, but this post is already lengthy enough. I will think of you tomorrow as I take a slice of red velvet cake around to my local friends. This might have to do for the rest of you:
Friday, October 02, 2009
Mansfield Park Lite, Or Is It Heavy?
I reread Mansfield Park this week. It got me to thinking about movie versions of this story, and how much I disliked Masterpiece Theatre's recent interpretation of it. It isn't fair, really. MT did a very credible job of telling the story, preserving much of Austen's original intention for the story, complete with a Fanny Price so bland as to be entirely forgettable.
Because she is. As much as like Austen's book for its tone, satire, wittiness and plot, I am not crazy about Fanny. I don't know why. She is friendly and kind. She is loyal to a fault. Her principles are impeccable and her judgment sound. Her patience is infinite. In short, she has exactly those attributes I find myself striving for.
Yet, isn't it possible to have all of these lovely traits while, at the same time, standing up for herself? Explaining herself fully? Acting like a woman instead of a mouse? Her fearful shyness is sometimes so annoying I found myself gritting my teeth with her. Austen herself was so Mary Crawford; where does this Fanny Price heroine fit with the Emmas and Elizabeths?
No doubt, someone here is going to write back that they did one of those Austen Facebook quizzes and were declared to be most like Fanny Price. I'm not concerned; if you are most like Fanny Price than nothing I can say will offend you. I can criticize your social standing, your parents, your financial situation and even your looks without so much as a quiet nod as you return to your needlework.
So, imagine my delight when I re-discovered the 1999 version of Mansfield Park on YouTube the other day. While most Austen adaptations that veer too much from the original are extremely distasteful to me, this one left me feeling just the opposite. The screenwriter dissected the original Austen, read between the lines for plot development, enhanced character motivation, and gave Fanny a backbone.
The result is a piece that is both dramatic and funny, romantic and satirical, literary and entertaining. It is a story that, with the benefit of a more modern sensibility, helps put Fanny's entire experience at Mansfield Park in the context of her time. Here follow some brief comparisons.
The actress who plays Fanny is quite wonderful and pretty too. She contains all of Fanny's better attributes without being as sickly and retiring as Austen's heroine. The 1999 Fanny is vivacious, strong and natural. She hears each cruel thing from her Aunt Norris and others of her ilk without ever really believing it. To keep household peace, she will hang her head and acquiesce without complaint, but she never sees herself as second to anyone. Even the sassy and sensual Miss Mary Crawford. She may not know how to compete with her, but she doesn't ever defer to her either.
The characterization all around in the 1999 version is remarkable. The feckless older brother, Tom, is not merely a drunken lout; instead he is deeply depressed over his father's involvement in the West Indian slave trade. Austen's book uses his father's "business in Antigua" as a major part of the story, but she is less than forthcoming about what, specifically, he did there. The movie gives Tom depth of character from the first few minutes he is introduced. His extreme guilt over a lifestyle paid for almost entirely from the buying and selling of slaves leads him to self-medicate with extreme alcoholism. Nor is he the only one. Austen tells us that Lady Bertram is constantly lethargic and uninterested in almost everything to the point of almost being a non-entity. This film helps us to see why this is the case: she is an opium addict. Something not at all uncommon in that day and age. True to Austen's original story which paints Fanny's mother and her Aunt Bertram as so much alike, this version casts the same actress in both parts. A brilliant juxtaposition. The slave trade is also used to help explain Lord Bertram's alternating bouts of indifference, interference, cruelty and interest in Fanny's concerns. This theme of slavery is a major point in the way he basically auctions off his daughters to the highest bidders, regardless of their feelings. Fanny's defiance to his orders matches her revulsion for his money-making schemes.
All is not entirely well with the screenplay: the deletion of Fanny's brother was a mistake, even if Fanny's character picks up a lot of his best attributes. The help and advancement Mr. Crawford lends him is Fanny's primary motivation for even considering his overtures toward her, though the 1999 Mr. Crawford is a good enough actor that I almost began to wonder what Fanny's scruples against him are exactly. Which takes us to the only major flaw, in my eyes, in this particular interpretation. Fanny, desperate in the life she has been punished back into and eager to help her family, tells the charming Henry that yes, indeed, she will marry him. It is true that her acceptance of him only lasts for a day, but Fanny's chief virtue is her unwavering constancy toward her best principles and her beloved Edmund. I think this screenplay could have taken us down the road of Fanny's serious consideration of Mr. Crawford's advances without her actually saying yes.
So now we must talk about the beloved Edmund, played perfectly by Johnny Lee Miller. (Who I loved in Eli Stone--a short-lived dramedy on television for about 18 months.) Imagine my surprise when I found out he was in the MT series as Emma's Mr. Knightly as well. I missed it because I was so disappointed in both Mansfield Park and A Room With a View that I couldn't even attempt another adaptation. Anyway, there is a moment near the end of the film where Fanny has just learned a series of shocking things about her adopted family. She is sitting near Tom's sickbed in her nightgown, her face a mask of shock and horror when Edmund comes to her to ask her if she is okay. He is comforting her and in the intense emotion of the moment he (ALMOST!) kisses her. This almost kiss is more beautiful than any movie kiss I've ever seen. I won't link it here because this same clip has a few pretty shocking moments in it; this version of Mansfield Park is daring thematically and is for grownups only.
I do love Austen. I think if you have only seen film adaptations or read books about Austen's work, then you have seriously missed out on the actual Austen experience. Her gifts are legion and her legacy much deserved. But I will say, in this case, there is actually some improvement on the original.
Because she is. As much as like Austen's book for its tone, satire, wittiness and plot, I am not crazy about Fanny. I don't know why. She is friendly and kind. She is loyal to a fault. Her principles are impeccable and her judgment sound. Her patience is infinite. In short, she has exactly those attributes I find myself striving for.
Yet, isn't it possible to have all of these lovely traits while, at the same time, standing up for herself? Explaining herself fully? Acting like a woman instead of a mouse? Her fearful shyness is sometimes so annoying I found myself gritting my teeth with her. Austen herself was so Mary Crawford; where does this Fanny Price heroine fit with the Emmas and Elizabeths?
No doubt, someone here is going to write back that they did one of those Austen Facebook quizzes and were declared to be most like Fanny Price. I'm not concerned; if you are most like Fanny Price than nothing I can say will offend you. I can criticize your social standing, your parents, your financial situation and even your looks without so much as a quiet nod as you return to your needlework.
So, imagine my delight when I re-discovered the 1999 version of Mansfield Park on YouTube the other day. While most Austen adaptations that veer too much from the original are extremely distasteful to me, this one left me feeling just the opposite. The screenwriter dissected the original Austen, read between the lines for plot development, enhanced character motivation, and gave Fanny a backbone.
The result is a piece that is both dramatic and funny, romantic and satirical, literary and entertaining. It is a story that, with the benefit of a more modern sensibility, helps put Fanny's entire experience at Mansfield Park in the context of her time. Here follow some brief comparisons.
The actress who plays Fanny is quite wonderful and pretty too. She contains all of Fanny's better attributes without being as sickly and retiring as Austen's heroine. The 1999 Fanny is vivacious, strong and natural. She hears each cruel thing from her Aunt Norris and others of her ilk without ever really believing it. To keep household peace, she will hang her head and acquiesce without complaint, but she never sees herself as second to anyone. Even the sassy and sensual Miss Mary Crawford. She may not know how to compete with her, but she doesn't ever defer to her either.
The characterization all around in the 1999 version is remarkable. The feckless older brother, Tom, is not merely a drunken lout; instead he is deeply depressed over his father's involvement in the West Indian slave trade. Austen's book uses his father's "business in Antigua" as a major part of the story, but she is less than forthcoming about what, specifically, he did there. The movie gives Tom depth of character from the first few minutes he is introduced. His extreme guilt over a lifestyle paid for almost entirely from the buying and selling of slaves leads him to self-medicate with extreme alcoholism. Nor is he the only one. Austen tells us that Lady Bertram is constantly lethargic and uninterested in almost everything to the point of almost being a non-entity. This film helps us to see why this is the case: she is an opium addict. Something not at all uncommon in that day and age. True to Austen's original story which paints Fanny's mother and her Aunt Bertram as so much alike, this version casts the same actress in both parts. A brilliant juxtaposition. The slave trade is also used to help explain Lord Bertram's alternating bouts of indifference, interference, cruelty and interest in Fanny's concerns. This theme of slavery is a major point in the way he basically auctions off his daughters to the highest bidders, regardless of their feelings. Fanny's defiance to his orders matches her revulsion for his money-making schemes.
All is not entirely well with the screenplay: the deletion of Fanny's brother was a mistake, even if Fanny's character picks up a lot of his best attributes. The help and advancement Mr. Crawford lends him is Fanny's primary motivation for even considering his overtures toward her, though the 1999 Mr. Crawford is a good enough actor that I almost began to wonder what Fanny's scruples against him are exactly. Which takes us to the only major flaw, in my eyes, in this particular interpretation. Fanny, desperate in the life she has been punished back into and eager to help her family, tells the charming Henry that yes, indeed, she will marry him. It is true that her acceptance of him only lasts for a day, but Fanny's chief virtue is her unwavering constancy toward her best principles and her beloved Edmund. I think this screenplay could have taken us down the road of Fanny's serious consideration of Mr. Crawford's advances without her actually saying yes.
So now we must talk about the beloved Edmund, played perfectly by Johnny Lee Miller. (Who I loved in Eli Stone--a short-lived dramedy on television for about 18 months.) Imagine my surprise when I found out he was in the MT series as Emma's Mr. Knightly as well. I missed it because I was so disappointed in both Mansfield Park and A Room With a View that I couldn't even attempt another adaptation. Anyway, there is a moment near the end of the film where Fanny has just learned a series of shocking things about her adopted family. She is sitting near Tom's sickbed in her nightgown, her face a mask of shock and horror when Edmund comes to her to ask her if she is okay. He is comforting her and in the intense emotion of the moment he (ALMOST!) kisses her. This almost kiss is more beautiful than any movie kiss I've ever seen. I won't link it here because this same clip has a few pretty shocking moments in it; this version of Mansfield Park is daring thematically and is for grownups only.
I do love Austen. I think if you have only seen film adaptations or read books about Austen's work, then you have seriously missed out on the actual Austen experience. Her gifts are legion and her legacy much deserved. But I will say, in this case, there is actually some improvement on the original.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
(Almost) Totally Random Thoughts. And a Contest.
Did you know there is a new book coming out called Pride and Prejudice and Zombies? Really. I'm having a hard time comprehending on just how many levels this is totally wrong. The author is giving full credit for having co-written this book with Jane Austen. Apparently most of the original language is preserved. The additions will be obvious as they will involve blood and mayhem and well, the undead. It really might be true that all of the great books have been written. Any other aspiring author is just wasting her time.
I had my recurring dream last night. It hasn't happened for some time because I haven't been school teaching. Only this time, it started off in an entire different direction. I was the mother of five: a fact I only realized some time in to the dream. The only two kids that I recognized were the youngest two who were the same as my oldest two. I didn't recognize my husband either, though it is probably safe to say that he was off stage the entire time. The oldest of these children was a horrible boy who shared an uncanny resemblance to Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne's gene pool. He shouted at me about how I'd never been there for him. I felt terrible, but wanted to explain that I'd only recently become aware of his existence. Instead I shouted right back at him, using some pretty choice language. (Actually, lately, I've been often dreaming that I am shouting at my children.) The argument occurred right before a major ward activity and I was busy stringing fairy lights along wires on the ceiling and couldn't deal with the demon-child. Then I found out he was sluffing school. Eventually, after the party, I made it to the school (which was my old high school, but not), only to be told that I was actually still enrolled there, had missed most of my classes in the last year and was in danger of not graduating, particularly because my calculus grades were so low. I was also expected to remember my old combination lock so that I could find my books. Then Padawan told me he was hungry. Oh, wait, that last sentence really happened.
The recurring part is only the last bit--about the schooling thing. It is very common for me to have dreams about incomplete credits (always calculus), poor grades and general panic until I wake up. At least this time I wasn't naked.
I believe I made a perfect cup of hot chocolate this morning. I start with a little bit of hot water and add sugar and cocoa--light on the sugar, heavy on the cocoa. I like it slightly bitter. I add skim milk for the last 2/3 of the liquid and get it nice and hot. Today I had a bit of heavy cream left over in the fridge and added a tablespoon or two of that. If not for that horrible dream I'd have wanted to get right back into bed.
To make breakfast for the kiddos today I had to get fresh dishes out of the dishwasher. My dishwasher is not the brightest appliance in the house and cannot seem to understand that it is supposed to wash AND dry the dishes. It does one or the other. Sometimes the soap doesn't come out, but the dishes come out dry with every bit of food within a three foot radius stuck to them in gritty particles. Today was a no-dry morning. I am completely okay with putting them away wet. Plantboy dries them all. Of course, he is highly efficient. He can dry and put them away faster than I can just put them away.
And my last random thought concerns the Easter Bunny. I just can't do it. Santa yes. He is nice and cozy and the stories about him are fun and he is just so human. But I cannot bring myself to create the magic of a huge freaky bunny for my kids. I just feel too foolish. I realize that to refrain while many other children do get this sick and wrong visitor may undermine my kids' Santa-belief but I think I am okay with that. I figure this was my last year with Jedi Knight and the whole Santa thing anyway. He is just too inquisitive. Santa is lost in the details.
Now, all of these random thoughts are going to be held together by a contest.
Why a contest? What is significant about March 24?
Not a thing. It is just that I'm absolutely curious to know who is out there. I found out this week that a few more people are reading this blog. People I know, and some that I don't know. A couple of these people have been reading for some time. I just want to know who is out there. I've noticed that people running contests will often triple their comments during a contest because everybody loves free stuff.
Here are the rules for entering and potentially winning the AWESOME prize: You must comment and answer at least one of the questions listed on the bottom of this post. If you answer more than one question you get more than one entry. I'll even give you an extra entry if it is the first time you've commented here. The second rule is that if you enter then you must send an address where your AWESOME prize can be mailed.
1. What is the weirdest book title you have every seen/read? Or, if you could warp a classic, what title would you mangle? (Like Moby Dick Cheney: A Memoir)
2. What do you think my recurring dream means? Or which dream of your own can you not shake?
3. How do you make the perfect cup of hot chocolate?
4. Do you put the dishes away wet or dry?
5. To Easter Bunny or not to Easter Bunny, that is the question. (No, really, that IS the last question. There is just no question mark?)
I must admit to having mixed motives here. I would love to get a 30-comment post, even if your reasons for commenting and entirely mercenary. Hey, tell yourself, "If its free, its for me."
I had my recurring dream last night. It hasn't happened for some time because I haven't been school teaching. Only this time, it started off in an entire different direction. I was the mother of five: a fact I only realized some time in to the dream. The only two kids that I recognized were the youngest two who were the same as my oldest two. I didn't recognize my husband either, though it is probably safe to say that he was off stage the entire time. The oldest of these children was a horrible boy who shared an uncanny resemblance to Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne's gene pool. He shouted at me about how I'd never been there for him. I felt terrible, but wanted to explain that I'd only recently become aware of his existence. Instead I shouted right back at him, using some pretty choice language. (Actually, lately, I've been often dreaming that I am shouting at my children.) The argument occurred right before a major ward activity and I was busy stringing fairy lights along wires on the ceiling and couldn't deal with the demon-child. Then I found out he was sluffing school. Eventually, after the party, I made it to the school (which was my old high school, but not), only to be told that I was actually still enrolled there, had missed most of my classes in the last year and was in danger of not graduating, particularly because my calculus grades were so low. I was also expected to remember my old combination lock so that I could find my books. Then Padawan told me he was hungry. Oh, wait, that last sentence really happened.
The recurring part is only the last bit--about the schooling thing. It is very common for me to have dreams about incomplete credits (always calculus), poor grades and general panic until I wake up. At least this time I wasn't naked.
I believe I made a perfect cup of hot chocolate this morning. I start with a little bit of hot water and add sugar and cocoa--light on the sugar, heavy on the cocoa. I like it slightly bitter. I add skim milk for the last 2/3 of the liquid and get it nice and hot. Today I had a bit of heavy cream left over in the fridge and added a tablespoon or two of that. If not for that horrible dream I'd have wanted to get right back into bed.
To make breakfast for the kiddos today I had to get fresh dishes out of the dishwasher. My dishwasher is not the brightest appliance in the house and cannot seem to understand that it is supposed to wash AND dry the dishes. It does one or the other. Sometimes the soap doesn't come out, but the dishes come out dry with every bit of food within a three foot radius stuck to them in gritty particles. Today was a no-dry morning. I am completely okay with putting them away wet. Plantboy dries them all. Of course, he is highly efficient. He can dry and put them away faster than I can just put them away.
And my last random thought concerns the Easter Bunny. I just can't do it. Santa yes. He is nice and cozy and the stories about him are fun and he is just so human. But I cannot bring myself to create the magic of a huge freaky bunny for my kids. I just feel too foolish. I realize that to refrain while many other children do get this sick and wrong visitor may undermine my kids' Santa-belief but I think I am okay with that. I figure this was my last year with Jedi Knight and the whole Santa thing anyway. He is just too inquisitive. Santa is lost in the details.
Now, all of these random thoughts are going to be held together by a contest.
Why a contest? What is significant about March 24?
Not a thing. It is just that I'm absolutely curious to know who is out there. I found out this week that a few more people are reading this blog. People I know, and some that I don't know. A couple of these people have been reading for some time. I just want to know who is out there. I've noticed that people running contests will often triple their comments during a contest because everybody loves free stuff.
Here are the rules for entering and potentially winning the AWESOME prize: You must comment and answer at least one of the questions listed on the bottom of this post. If you answer more than one question you get more than one entry. I'll even give you an extra entry if it is the first time you've commented here. The second rule is that if you enter then you must send an address where your AWESOME prize can be mailed.
1. What is the weirdest book title you have every seen/read? Or, if you could warp a classic, what title would you mangle? (Like Moby Dick Cheney: A Memoir)
2. What do you think my recurring dream means? Or which dream of your own can you not shake?
3. How do you make the perfect cup of hot chocolate?
4. Do you put the dishes away wet or dry?
5. To Easter Bunny or not to Easter Bunny, that is the question. (No, really, that IS the last question. There is just no question mark?)
I must admit to having mixed motives here. I would love to get a 30-comment post, even if your reasons for commenting and entirely mercenary. Hey, tell yourself, "If its free, its for me."
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Austenland?
A friend whose book-sense I trust asked me Sunday if I had read Austenland. I said no, but replied that now I'd gotten a taste for Shannon Hale I wanted to get my hands on more of her stuff and that Austenland had been on the to-do list for a while. She shook her head saying that she couldn't get through more than half of it, thought it was intensely boring and could hardly believe it was the same author.
Still, just the title was too appealing for me to give it a pass, so yesterday I read it in one sitting (or as much as a mother of three CAN read anything in one sitting). I did not think it was intensely boring, and Hale's voice, her wit and her charm was just as distinctive as in the last book I read. The common thread in both Austenland and in Goose Girl is this idea of looking in a mirror and wondering who exactly is looking back at you. This is never more apparent than in perhaps my favorite moment in the book. (CAUTION: SPOILERS AHEAD)
Jane Hayes has gone to a place where fantasies play out, but unlike the other women present, she is unable to completely lose herself in the role-playing. Even as she tries to "catch" various suitors, she knows it is all pretend and can't quite figure out which Jane she is the most often, or even which one she likes the best. She finally convinces the most Darcy-esque of the actors to fall for her. (Or does she? Does he? Isn't it all pretend?) During the ball, with various desperate older ladies fawning all over him, he grabs our intrepid heroine's arm (not the first time he has done this) and pulls her into a small room off the ball room. After some pacing, during which he looks all sexy and tortured,
"He wildly combed his hair with his fingers. 'I can't bear to be out there with you right now, all those indifferent people watching, admiring you, but not really caring. Not as I do.'
"Jane: (hopeful) Really?
"Jane: (practical) Oh, stop that.
"Mr. Nobley sat in the chair beside her and gripped its arm.
"Jane: (observant) This man is all about arm gripping."
Re-creating the punctuation in the above passage is awkward, but if you followed, you see that Jane didn't actually SAY any of these things, though she could have said any one of them and been perfectly herself. He then professes his love, she sees the ridiculousness of it all (or does she?) and refuses him. Walks away. Knowing that for once and for all she is over the Darcy-fetish. Yeah right.
So while I really liked much about this book, at the end she gets the man that you knew from the opening scenes that she had to get all along. For a moment, Hale makes the reader believe that it will not work out that way and it will still be okay, but I was feeling a bit cheated until about nine pages from the end until Hale, of course, righted everything. And though the book is supposed to be all about coming to terms with what is real and imaginary(?), in the end, she does get "Mr. Darcy." And what does he sweetly reply to her protestations that it had all been fake? "We are cast as actors that are closest to the parts we play, since we had to stay in character so long." Ah ha! So he is Henry Jenkins and Mr. Nobley and Mr. Darcy all at once! Lucky girl.
In those last nine pages, he says some intensely beautiful things to her, and this time we are to believe that they have moved from scripted to un-scripted, but you just know that Hale poured over this dialogue for a long time to get it just right. People don't just say things off the cuff like this: I'm throwing myself at your feet because I'm hoping for a shot at forever, have you stopped to consider that in fact you are my fantasy, etc. And don't even get me started on the kissing that Hale so perfectly describes.
Anyway, for a book whose jacket claims to be about a woman learning to separate fantasy from reality, our main character only gets about 10 minutes to decide she can do that before fantasy-man walks right into her life. And true to the Darcy Effect, he is giving up everything for her, stepping on the plane with nothing but a vest and cravat. Oh, and we assume he has a passport.
Like Mr. Darcy and Miss Jane, this plain governess once found herself looking into a pair of fine eyes and falling in love against her will. The night before our wedding, my delicious Gardener gave me two things: a beautifully huge hammock and the Complete Works of Jane Austen. (I refrained from tearing right into it shouting, "Jane Austen! Your works complete me!") I've always loved that gift. I think, in his way, that Plantboy was telling me that he knew he wasn't the Perfect Man I had long dreamed of, but that he would never begrudge my escape with my books as long as I came back to him at the end of the day--refreshed and ready for another round of reality.
Still, just the title was too appealing for me to give it a pass, so yesterday I read it in one sitting (or as much as a mother of three CAN read anything in one sitting). I did not think it was intensely boring, and Hale's voice, her wit and her charm was just as distinctive as in the last book I read. The common thread in both Austenland and in Goose Girl is this idea of looking in a mirror and wondering who exactly is looking back at you. This is never more apparent than in perhaps my favorite moment in the book. (CAUTION: SPOILERS AHEAD)
Jane Hayes has gone to a place where fantasies play out, but unlike the other women present, she is unable to completely lose herself in the role-playing. Even as she tries to "catch" various suitors, she knows it is all pretend and can't quite figure out which Jane she is the most often, or even which one she likes the best. She finally convinces the most Darcy-esque of the actors to fall for her. (Or does she? Does he? Isn't it all pretend?) During the ball, with various desperate older ladies fawning all over him, he grabs our intrepid heroine's arm (not the first time he has done this) and pulls her into a small room off the ball room. After some pacing, during which he looks all sexy and tortured,
"He wildly combed his hair with his fingers. 'I can't bear to be out there with you right now, all those indifferent people watching, admiring you, but not really caring. Not as I do.'
"Jane: (hopeful) Really?
"Jane: (practical) Oh, stop that.
"Mr. Nobley sat in the chair beside her and gripped its arm.
"Jane: (observant) This man is all about arm gripping."
Re-creating the punctuation in the above passage is awkward, but if you followed, you see that Jane didn't actually SAY any of these things, though she could have said any one of them and been perfectly herself. He then professes his love, she sees the ridiculousness of it all (or does she?) and refuses him. Walks away. Knowing that for once and for all she is over the Darcy-fetish. Yeah right.
So while I really liked much about this book, at the end she gets the man that you knew from the opening scenes that she had to get all along. For a moment, Hale makes the reader believe that it will not work out that way and it will still be okay, but I was feeling a bit cheated until about nine pages from the end until Hale, of course, righted everything. And though the book is supposed to be all about coming to terms with what is real and imaginary(?), in the end, she does get "Mr. Darcy." And what does he sweetly reply to her protestations that it had all been fake? "We are cast as actors that are closest to the parts we play, since we had to stay in character so long." Ah ha! So he is Henry Jenkins and Mr. Nobley and Mr. Darcy all at once! Lucky girl.
In those last nine pages, he says some intensely beautiful things to her, and this time we are to believe that they have moved from scripted to un-scripted, but you just know that Hale poured over this dialogue for a long time to get it just right. People don't just say things off the cuff like this: I'm throwing myself at your feet because I'm hoping for a shot at forever, have you stopped to consider that in fact you are my fantasy, etc. And don't even get me started on the kissing that Hale so perfectly describes.
Anyway, for a book whose jacket claims to be about a woman learning to separate fantasy from reality, our main character only gets about 10 minutes to decide she can do that before fantasy-man walks right into her life. And true to the Darcy Effect, he is giving up everything for her, stepping on the plane with nothing but a vest and cravat. Oh, and we assume he has a passport.
Like Mr. Darcy and Miss Jane, this plain governess once found herself looking into a pair of fine eyes and falling in love against her will. The night before our wedding, my delicious Gardener gave me two things: a beautifully huge hammock and the Complete Works of Jane Austen. (I refrained from tearing right into it shouting, "Jane Austen! Your works complete me!") I've always loved that gift. I think, in his way, that Plantboy was telling me that he knew he wasn't the Perfect Man I had long dreamed of, but that he would never begrudge my escape with my books as long as I came back to him at the end of the day--refreshed and ready for another round of reality.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
The Other Edward
I just finished watching the BBC's Sense and Sensibility on YouTube. Somebody posted all three segments in seven parts each. And while this might seem a little bit choppy, to a mother of three in a household of boys, six-eight minute segments were just perfect. I have watched bits here and there over the last several days.
There is so much fodder for comparison here! And, well, literary types love this sort of thing so I can't resist doing it. If you would like to read a shorter, funnier review, check out this one from last week, which is the reason I decided to give it a go in the first place. (I had kind of forgotten about the MT series this spring: Mansfield Park was so-so, I heard bad reviews of Miss Austen Regrets, and I've got Pride and Prejudice on DVD and can have my Darcy-fix any time I want.)
I have to preface any critique by saying that I think a Emma Thompson's screenplay for this same story is brilliant and that Ang Lee's directing is just fantastic. That particular version of Sense and Sensibility is, I think, one of the finest films of the 1990's. So naturally, I approached this new version very skeptically. However, I think that the BBC version has merits that Thompson and Lee overlooked, though I still think the old one is superior (better performances) and truer to Austen's original intent.
Andrew Davies, screenplaywright for THE version of Pride and Prejudice, is the writer for this new S & S. He had a tough act to follow, but he was still able to add some new insights to this story. Here are the things that I loved:
1) Mrs. Dashwood is much younger than the widow in Thompson's screenplay. This makes very good sense; after all, Margret is supposed to be, what, 10? I think to put Elinor's mother in her mid-forties is very appropriate. She is also much more tragic. She doesn't easily accept her new lot; I think when she married her much older husband she was probably a lot like her daughters: very genteel, but with a modest fortune. Without having a very upper-class background, she would never have been an appropriate wife for the late Mr. Dashwood, and nobody ever makes suggestion that she was unworthy to be his wife. She has raised daughters with excellent manners and refined tastes. The expression on her face when they come to their windswept cottage on the coast is great acting: like she's just been hit over the head with a ton of bricks by the life they've given up. Elinor is forcefully, practically, optimistic and Marianne is poetic and romantic, but their mother is devastated.
"Elinor, can we really live like this?" Elinor replies, "Once a fire is lit, it should be quite cheerful." And then mother's low voice, "But who is going to light the fire?" (I'll save Elinor's brilliantly characteristic reply. Better yet, watch the clip.) Even at the end of the story, when she willingly pounds bread with her daughter, she insists they be arranged as proper ladies in the parlor when Edward arrives, even though there is no expectation of any chance with him.
I did think her "If I had been mistress of Norland, my girls would never have been treated like this!" is a bit didactic. We get it, Mr. Davies, you didn't have to state it so bold or dramatically. Instead of making us feel sorry for Mrs. Dashwood, as we're probably meant to, it makes us think, "But you aren't! And if Willoughby would leave over such a thing, then do you really want him to marry your daughter?"
2) I'm not sure if it is directing or writing, but the candelight all the time was a nice touch, and it made so much more sense than a movie like Pride and Prejudice that is so delightfully light all the time that one would think England is perpetually sunny even at night! I had truthfully never picked up on this anachronsim before until I saw this version. At first I was annoyed, "Why is it dark all the time?" Well, this was before electric light. It WAS dark much of the time, and if it was a cloudy day . . . . you get the picture.
Someone on Youtube laughed about these ladies feeling like they would barely survive with a mere two servants, but think seriously about what it would be like to attempt to live without power. All of the things I can accomplish in a day are because of electricity. Without it, just putting food on the table and having clean clothing to wear becomes an all-consuming day-to-day task. These women were not used to working like that. The lighting in the movie helps to emphasize just how much more subsistence their lives became when they lost their fortune.
3) Opening with the seduction scene was shocking and, well, brilliant. I will leave you to read Nem's review to hear her opinions on this.
4) Willoughby's character is written totally differently in this screenplay than the other. In Thompson's version, you have this gorgeous actor whom you can almost forgive for being carried away with his passion. He is not a weasel, just larger than life. He wanted to marry Marianne, but he just couldn't, poor guy. You never have, by his own admission, any proof that his attentions to Marianne were less than honorable. Even Colonel Brandon acknowledges this to Elinor. In the Davies version, on the other hand, Mr. Willoughby is set up to be a complete scoundrel before you even seen a single main character. Before our story even begins, his depravity has set a chain of events in motion that cannot be undone.
He is weasly and charming from the beginning. He isn't nearly as handsome as Thompson's Willoughby and this seems to make his manner more false--like he is trying extra hard to be pleasing, that his words and actions are more calculated. I never wanted this Marianne to be with this Willoughby. In Thompson's version, I wanted Willoughby to turn his life around and do the right thing.
Davies also made a brilliant move by including the scene when Willougby, tortured and unhappy (great!) comes to Cleveland to seek and audience with Elinor. The book even left me with the impression that our charming hero is hoping that Marianne knows he came: I think he hasn't given up hope that she might be his mistress. Elinor, for all her gentility, proves that quiet dignity doesn't have to be weakness in her rebuff. I thought it was a great addition, rather than having Colonel Brandon deliver the whole story.
5) The introduction of Anne, the older Steele sister, was one of my favorite parts. This is the classic, stock, comic-relief character always found in the background in Austen novels. She is exactly like the book, and the casting of a girl with such horsey teeth really completes the picture for me. This new Lucy, I think, is well-written. Much more conniving, or at least played that way, than Thompson's Lucy. Unfortunately, the scene where Anne Steele really shines is actually a scene I don't like. But I haven't gotten to my dislikes quite yet.
6) I did not like all of Davies' non-book scenes, but he is very good at this. It is like he has the finger on the pulse of what women want even more than on Austenian intention and culture. (Think, Colin Firth fencing, getting out of the tub, swimming in his pond and meeting Elizabeth soaking wet--that is ALL Davies, not Austen). One of these was of the two sisters under the covers: Marianne saying, "I keep thinking about that girl and her baby. What do men want from us? Do they even see us as people, or just play things?" Good questions. Austen, however, is brilliant enough that she is able to raise her issues without such bald statement. Thompson's screenplay does some of this kind of thing, too. Like when she is horseback riding with Edward and talking about his profession: "Except you will inherit your fortune. We can't even earn ours," or to Margaret's question about why they can't stay at Norland, "Because fortunes pass from father to son, dearest, not father to daughter; it is the law."
7) Brandon tells Elinor that the woman he first fell in love with was given in marriage to his brother. This, I believe, is true to Austen's original, which makes his story really all that much more sad. Again, this is Austen's subtle way of bringing up the unfairnesses in her society: why was Brandon denied his first true love? Only because he was a second son and not the eldest. In Thompson's version, it is Sir Middleton's mother-in-law that first brings this out: we are never certain if she has the story right or if it is just gossip, which fits better with her character. In the book, this well-meaning busy-body even calls the forsaken orphan Brandon's love-child, a claim he later refutes. A further level of intrigue that neither screen play touches.
8) I love the horrible, fat red-headed child of Fanny and John's who never says a word. Enough said.
All in all, this new version is very good. However, there are some things that I didn't like, though I hope my pointing them out doesn't affect your viewing pleasure at all.
1) With the exception of Elinor, who I did think was as good as (and younger than) Emma Thompson, The acting was inferior. But what can be done? Ang Lee's film reads like a Who's Who of British actors. Poor Marianne! I would not want to follow Kate Winslet into any role. Though I'd always thought Alan Rickman (Sheriff of Nottingham, Severus Snape) to be a bit of an odd choice for Colonel Brandon, he is very good from his first minutes on screen ("The air smells of spices.") Rickman is intense, serious, tragic and devoted without being so wooden or lurky like this new guy. The new guy did, however, grow on me when I realized that he reminded me so much of Liam Neeson.
2) Though well in tune with female romantic sensibilities, I don't think Davies has quite as good an ear for natural sounding dialogue between women as Thompson. Elinor's revelation, Marianne's change of heart, the reason she became ill, her recovery after Willoughby's initial departure, etc. all of these scenes play better in Thompson's version. (Think: Elinor calmly sipping her tea while Margret slams doors, and her mother and sister cry in their rooms. Perfect.)
3) Just as I liked some of Davies' liberties with the original, there are others I didn't like. The fencing, though very sexy, was fairly ridiculous and possibly another anachronism. I've read that dueling, even in the early 1800's, was mostly out of fashion simply because it was illegal. Also, if it had been an actual duel (hm . . .hm . . . .usually done with pistols by the 1820's), Willoughby would have been killed. It would have been considered cowardly for Brandon to challenge and then leave him alive. Also, its placement in the story is a bit strange. The duel should have taken place right when Mr. Willoughby arrived in London--immediately after the discovery of his indiscretion. Instead, the screenplay implies it takes several weeks later, as Marianne is reading her letter of rejection from the cad himself. The director inserts the duel there implying that Brandon is fighting for Marianne's dishonor as well as the poor orphaned girl.
5) The revelation that Lucy was engaged to Edward was initially funny, but then the scene played too long with Edward's arrival. The scene became stilted, awkward. In all fairness, this was a tough act to follow. One of Thompson's best scenes is that hideous actress who plays Fanny leaning in to Lucy saying, "I am the soul of discretion." Lucy confides and feathers fly everywhere while Fanny physcially attacks her. Hilarious. I also like finding out that Edward's refusal to disengage himself from Fanny happens off-screen. For all his understated character, he really is the hero of our story, and we don't want to see him openly avow that he wants to be married to Lucy.
4) Davies' characterizations of Sir Middleton and his mother-in-law are way off. Thompson makes them funny and good-natured. Davies makes them annoying and rude. Austen is better played witty than dark.
5) Which leads me to my last complaint. It was dark. At least darker than I expected. Ang Lee's film is beautiful, light, sunny. This Barton cottage might have been a better setting for Wuthering Heights. The rain and the wind was such a defining part of their new home that I had great difficulty ever feeling they settled in. I was cold the whole time I watched. Now, it is likely that this was the intention of the director, but the mood was opressive at times. I really don't like Austen played oppressively: it just doesn't sit right. (I know, I know, this seems like a contradiction to what I said about the lighting before. Live with it. But I'm not talking so much about lighting here as tone.)
Now, to the subject I'm sure everyone wants to talk about, but I've avoided almost entirely to this point: Edward Farris. This new Edward is adorable, charming, passionate and filled with integrity. Hugh Grant only scores 1/4 on this criteria, if this is the criteria we are looking at. This is a big "if."
The Youtube audience gushed, almost embarrassingly so, over our current Edward incarnation, fairly leaving Hugh Grant in the dust. But I have to maintain that Edward, as written by Thompson, directed by Lee and played by Grant is what Austen had in mind. He is shy, awkward, gawky and insecure. He didn't fall for Lucy because he is brave or passionate or even friendly toward the underdog. It was because he was idle and lacked confidence. He tells Elinor as much. Besides, Lucy is a manipulator. She trapped Edward as surely as she wrangled an invitation to Lady Middleton's for the express purpose of trying to bury Elinor. Falling in love with Elinor was more accidental than by design and he is never able to tell her why he can't move forward.
Elinor's Edward would NEVER have been so flirty about the banging of the rugs (another added scene): especially when he hadn't been properly introduced. Elinor's manner to him when he teases her about the rugs shows that she even thinks he is cheeky. In fact, in nearly every scene Edward is just MORE than I've always pictured him.
However, having said this (I have to; I'm a bit of purist when it comes to Austen, if you hadn't yet picked up on that), I think my favorite scene in the whole show is the first minute of this clip. The rain, Elinor's face under that shawl, Edward's frustration. Oh. It. Is. Good. I wanted Edward to 'fess up and crawl under Elinor's lovely yellow wrap and pour out his heart. In the book, as in this adaptation, Edward does come to Barton and is depressed and moody, though nobody can pinpoint the reason. The chopping wood bit where his gaurd is let down is consistent with his character during this portion of Austen's story.
So, while the purist in me is skeptical of this Edward, the romantic in me thinks he is wonderful. Who would look twice at Hugh Grant with this guy around? But maybe my review title refers to Edward Cullen . . . hmm. The world may never know.
Now, it has been said that brevity is the soul of wit. Again, refer to Nem's review (her whole blog for that matter) if you want wit. I will have to settle for thoroughness.
There is so much fodder for comparison here! And, well, literary types love this sort of thing so I can't resist doing it. If you would like to read a shorter, funnier review, check out this one from last week, which is the reason I decided to give it a go in the first place. (I had kind of forgotten about the MT series this spring: Mansfield Park was so-so, I heard bad reviews of Miss Austen Regrets, and I've got Pride and Prejudice on DVD and can have my Darcy-fix any time I want.)
I have to preface any critique by saying that I think a Emma Thompson's screenplay for this same story is brilliant and that Ang Lee's directing is just fantastic. That particular version of Sense and Sensibility is, I think, one of the finest films of the 1990's. So naturally, I approached this new version very skeptically. However, I think that the BBC version has merits that Thompson and Lee overlooked, though I still think the old one is superior (better performances) and truer to Austen's original intent.
Andrew Davies, screenplaywright for THE version of Pride and Prejudice, is the writer for this new S & S. He had a tough act to follow, but he was still able to add some new insights to this story. Here are the things that I loved:
1) Mrs. Dashwood is much younger than the widow in Thompson's screenplay. This makes very good sense; after all, Margret is supposed to be, what, 10? I think to put Elinor's mother in her mid-forties is very appropriate. She is also much more tragic. She doesn't easily accept her new lot; I think when she married her much older husband she was probably a lot like her daughters: very genteel, but with a modest fortune. Without having a very upper-class background, she would never have been an appropriate wife for the late Mr. Dashwood, and nobody ever makes suggestion that she was unworthy to be his wife. She has raised daughters with excellent manners and refined tastes. The expression on her face when they come to their windswept cottage on the coast is great acting: like she's just been hit over the head with a ton of bricks by the life they've given up. Elinor is forcefully, practically, optimistic and Marianne is poetic and romantic, but their mother is devastated.
"Elinor, can we really live like this?" Elinor replies, "Once a fire is lit, it should be quite cheerful." And then mother's low voice, "But who is going to light the fire?" (I'll save Elinor's brilliantly characteristic reply. Better yet, watch the clip.) Even at the end of the story, when she willingly pounds bread with her daughter, she insists they be arranged as proper ladies in the parlor when Edward arrives, even though there is no expectation of any chance with him.
I did think her "If I had been mistress of Norland, my girls would never have been treated like this!" is a bit didactic. We get it, Mr. Davies, you didn't have to state it so bold or dramatically. Instead of making us feel sorry for Mrs. Dashwood, as we're probably meant to, it makes us think, "But you aren't! And if Willoughby would leave over such a thing, then do you really want him to marry your daughter?"
2) I'm not sure if it is directing or writing, but the candelight all the time was a nice touch, and it made so much more sense than a movie like Pride and Prejudice that is so delightfully light all the time that one would think England is perpetually sunny even at night! I had truthfully never picked up on this anachronsim before until I saw this version. At first I was annoyed, "Why is it dark all the time?" Well, this was before electric light. It WAS dark much of the time, and if it was a cloudy day . . . . you get the picture.
Someone on Youtube laughed about these ladies feeling like they would barely survive with a mere two servants, but think seriously about what it would be like to attempt to live without power. All of the things I can accomplish in a day are because of electricity. Without it, just putting food on the table and having clean clothing to wear becomes an all-consuming day-to-day task. These women were not used to working like that. The lighting in the movie helps to emphasize just how much more subsistence their lives became when they lost their fortune.
3) Opening with the seduction scene was shocking and, well, brilliant. I will leave you to read Nem's review to hear her opinions on this.
4) Willoughby's character is written totally differently in this screenplay than the other. In Thompson's version, you have this gorgeous actor whom you can almost forgive for being carried away with his passion. He is not a weasel, just larger than life. He wanted to marry Marianne, but he just couldn't, poor guy. You never have, by his own admission, any proof that his attentions to Marianne were less than honorable. Even Colonel Brandon acknowledges this to Elinor. In the Davies version, on the other hand, Mr. Willoughby is set up to be a complete scoundrel before you even seen a single main character. Before our story even begins, his depravity has set a chain of events in motion that cannot be undone.
He is weasly and charming from the beginning. He isn't nearly as handsome as Thompson's Willoughby and this seems to make his manner more false--like he is trying extra hard to be pleasing, that his words and actions are more calculated. I never wanted this Marianne to be with this Willoughby. In Thompson's version, I wanted Willoughby to turn his life around and do the right thing.
Davies also made a brilliant move by including the scene when Willougby, tortured and unhappy (great!) comes to Cleveland to seek and audience with Elinor. The book even left me with the impression that our charming hero is hoping that Marianne knows he came: I think he hasn't given up hope that she might be his mistress. Elinor, for all her gentility, proves that quiet dignity doesn't have to be weakness in her rebuff. I thought it was a great addition, rather than having Colonel Brandon deliver the whole story.
5) The introduction of Anne, the older Steele sister, was one of my favorite parts. This is the classic, stock, comic-relief character always found in the background in Austen novels. She is exactly like the book, and the casting of a girl with such horsey teeth really completes the picture for me. This new Lucy, I think, is well-written. Much more conniving, or at least played that way, than Thompson's Lucy. Unfortunately, the scene where Anne Steele really shines is actually a scene I don't like. But I haven't gotten to my dislikes quite yet.
6) I did not like all of Davies' non-book scenes, but he is very good at this. It is like he has the finger on the pulse of what women want even more than on Austenian intention and culture. (Think, Colin Firth fencing, getting out of the tub, swimming in his pond and meeting Elizabeth soaking wet--that is ALL Davies, not Austen). One of these was of the two sisters under the covers: Marianne saying, "I keep thinking about that girl and her baby. What do men want from us? Do they even see us as people, or just play things?" Good questions. Austen, however, is brilliant enough that she is able to raise her issues without such bald statement. Thompson's screenplay does some of this kind of thing, too. Like when she is horseback riding with Edward and talking about his profession: "Except you will inherit your fortune. We can't even earn ours," or to Margaret's question about why they can't stay at Norland, "Because fortunes pass from father to son, dearest, not father to daughter; it is the law."
7) Brandon tells Elinor that the woman he first fell in love with was given in marriage to his brother. This, I believe, is true to Austen's original, which makes his story really all that much more sad. Again, this is Austen's subtle way of bringing up the unfairnesses in her society: why was Brandon denied his first true love? Only because he was a second son and not the eldest. In Thompson's version, it is Sir Middleton's mother-in-law that first brings this out: we are never certain if she has the story right or if it is just gossip, which fits better with her character. In the book, this well-meaning busy-body even calls the forsaken orphan Brandon's love-child, a claim he later refutes. A further level of intrigue that neither screen play touches.
8) I love the horrible, fat red-headed child of Fanny and John's who never says a word. Enough said.
All in all, this new version is very good. However, there are some things that I didn't like, though I hope my pointing them out doesn't affect your viewing pleasure at all.
1) With the exception of Elinor, who I did think was as good as (and younger than) Emma Thompson, The acting was inferior. But what can be done? Ang Lee's film reads like a Who's Who of British actors. Poor Marianne! I would not want to follow Kate Winslet into any role. Though I'd always thought Alan Rickman (Sheriff of Nottingham, Severus Snape) to be a bit of an odd choice for Colonel Brandon, he is very good from his first minutes on screen ("The air smells of spices.") Rickman is intense, serious, tragic and devoted without being so wooden or lurky like this new guy. The new guy did, however, grow on me when I realized that he reminded me so much of Liam Neeson.
2) Though well in tune with female romantic sensibilities, I don't think Davies has quite as good an ear for natural sounding dialogue between women as Thompson. Elinor's revelation, Marianne's change of heart, the reason she became ill, her recovery after Willoughby's initial departure, etc. all of these scenes play better in Thompson's version. (Think: Elinor calmly sipping her tea while Margret slams doors, and her mother and sister cry in their rooms. Perfect.)
3) Just as I liked some of Davies' liberties with the original, there are others I didn't like. The fencing, though very sexy, was fairly ridiculous and possibly another anachronism. I've read that dueling, even in the early 1800's, was mostly out of fashion simply because it was illegal. Also, if it had been an actual duel (hm . . .hm . . . .usually done with pistols by the 1820's), Willoughby would have been killed. It would have been considered cowardly for Brandon to challenge and then leave him alive. Also, its placement in the story is a bit strange. The duel should have taken place right when Mr. Willoughby arrived in London--immediately after the discovery of his indiscretion. Instead, the screenplay implies it takes several weeks later, as Marianne is reading her letter of rejection from the cad himself. The director inserts the duel there implying that Brandon is fighting for Marianne's dishonor as well as the poor orphaned girl.
5) The revelation that Lucy was engaged to Edward was initially funny, but then the scene played too long with Edward's arrival. The scene became stilted, awkward. In all fairness, this was a tough act to follow. One of Thompson's best scenes is that hideous actress who plays Fanny leaning in to Lucy saying, "I am the soul of discretion." Lucy confides and feathers fly everywhere while Fanny physcially attacks her. Hilarious. I also like finding out that Edward's refusal to disengage himself from Fanny happens off-screen. For all his understated character, he really is the hero of our story, and we don't want to see him openly avow that he wants to be married to Lucy.
4) Davies' characterizations of Sir Middleton and his mother-in-law are way off. Thompson makes them funny and good-natured. Davies makes them annoying and rude. Austen is better played witty than dark.
5) Which leads me to my last complaint. It was dark. At least darker than I expected. Ang Lee's film is beautiful, light, sunny. This Barton cottage might have been a better setting for Wuthering Heights. The rain and the wind was such a defining part of their new home that I had great difficulty ever feeling they settled in. I was cold the whole time I watched. Now, it is likely that this was the intention of the director, but the mood was opressive at times. I really don't like Austen played oppressively: it just doesn't sit right. (I know, I know, this seems like a contradiction to what I said about the lighting before. Live with it. But I'm not talking so much about lighting here as tone.)
Now, to the subject I'm sure everyone wants to talk about, but I've avoided almost entirely to this point: Edward Farris. This new Edward is adorable, charming, passionate and filled with integrity. Hugh Grant only scores 1/4 on this criteria, if this is the criteria we are looking at. This is a big "if."
The Youtube audience gushed, almost embarrassingly so, over our current Edward incarnation, fairly leaving Hugh Grant in the dust. But I have to maintain that Edward, as written by Thompson, directed by Lee and played by Grant is what Austen had in mind. He is shy, awkward, gawky and insecure. He didn't fall for Lucy because he is brave or passionate or even friendly toward the underdog. It was because he was idle and lacked confidence. He tells Elinor as much. Besides, Lucy is a manipulator. She trapped Edward as surely as she wrangled an invitation to Lady Middleton's for the express purpose of trying to bury Elinor. Falling in love with Elinor was more accidental than by design and he is never able to tell her why he can't move forward.
Elinor's Edward would NEVER have been so flirty about the banging of the rugs (another added scene): especially when he hadn't been properly introduced. Elinor's manner to him when he teases her about the rugs shows that she even thinks he is cheeky. In fact, in nearly every scene Edward is just MORE than I've always pictured him.
However, having said this (I have to; I'm a bit of purist when it comes to Austen, if you hadn't yet picked up on that), I think my favorite scene in the whole show is the first minute of this clip. The rain, Elinor's face under that shawl, Edward's frustration. Oh. It. Is. Good. I wanted Edward to 'fess up and crawl under Elinor's lovely yellow wrap and pour out his heart. In the book, as in this adaptation, Edward does come to Barton and is depressed and moody, though nobody can pinpoint the reason. The chopping wood bit where his gaurd is let down is consistent with his character during this portion of Austen's story.
So, while the purist in me is skeptical of this Edward, the romantic in me thinks he is wonderful. Who would look twice at Hugh Grant with this guy around? But maybe my review title refers to Edward Cullen . . . hmm. The world may never know.
Now, it has been said that brevity is the soul of wit. Again, refer to Nem's review (her whole blog for that matter) if you want wit. I will have to settle for thoroughness.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Sandition
I've figured out which Jane Austen heroine I think I really am.
Charlotte Heywood.
Now, lest some of you Austenphiles out there say, "Who?" I will explain: About six months before her death, Austen began a manuscript titled Sandition. The heroine in a girl from the country who, through a fortunate set of a circumstances, comes to spend the summer in a minor (fictitious) beach resort town called Sandition. She wrote 11 short chapters in three months and then never wrote any more. She died in June of that year. The manuscript survived and was passed to her family. Literary critics have always considered the incomplete novel as a "minor" work. Several people, including a relative of Austen's have attempted to finish it. The one I read was published in 1975, though Amazon lists a reprint in the 1998 that is the same. Anyway, the result is really excellent. The link above is to the copy I read, and apparently is the most popular. Knowing it was written mostly by a second author (whom the cover refers to as "another lady" and even Wikipedia acknowledges that there are at least two different names for this woman) forces me to see that it doesn't have Austen's subtely or sedateness, but it is very witty and the plot is, well, delightful. Sandition falls somewhere in between Austen and Georgette Hyer. (If you haven't read Heyer, I suggest reading The Foundling first. Less comedy of manners than Austen, more heavy on crazy plot twists.)
I've seen on several blogs people linking to a website that lets you figure out which Austen character you are. The problem is, that as I read the questions, they seemed to be written by a person who has merely seen movies made of Austen's books without actually having read them. For this reason, you can only become an Austen heroine who became a part of a screenplay. Also, I have seen these movies often enough to force my answers to turn me into Elizabeth Bennet, which character I've always wanted to be. But after reading Sandition, I think it must be Charlotte Heywood. I'm less polished than Miss Lizzie and certainly have even more provincial background than the Bennets. Miss Heywood is practical, average and fond of observing the foibles of others. She also completely falls apart when she falls in love. She reminds me so much of myself in my early 20's that it is almost uncanny.
Maybe I should do the screenplay for Sandition . . . .
Charlotte Heywood.
Now, lest some of you Austenphiles out there say, "Who?" I will explain: About six months before her death, Austen began a manuscript titled Sandition. The heroine in a girl from the country who, through a fortunate set of a circumstances, comes to spend the summer in a minor (fictitious) beach resort town called Sandition. She wrote 11 short chapters in three months and then never wrote any more. She died in June of that year. The manuscript survived and was passed to her family. Literary critics have always considered the incomplete novel as a "minor" work. Several people, including a relative of Austen's have attempted to finish it. The one I read was published in 1975, though Amazon lists a reprint in the 1998 that is the same. Anyway, the result is really excellent. The link above is to the copy I read, and apparently is the most popular. Knowing it was written mostly by a second author (whom the cover refers to as "another lady" and even Wikipedia acknowledges that there are at least two different names for this woman) forces me to see that it doesn't have Austen's subtely or sedateness, but it is very witty and the plot is, well, delightful. Sandition falls somewhere in between Austen and Georgette Hyer. (If you haven't read Heyer, I suggest reading The Foundling first. Less comedy of manners than Austen, more heavy on crazy plot twists.)
I've seen on several blogs people linking to a website that lets you figure out which Austen character you are. The problem is, that as I read the questions, they seemed to be written by a person who has merely seen movies made of Austen's books without actually having read them. For this reason, you can only become an Austen heroine who became a part of a screenplay. Also, I have seen these movies often enough to force my answers to turn me into Elizabeth Bennet, which character I've always wanted to be. But after reading Sandition, I think it must be Charlotte Heywood. I'm less polished than Miss Lizzie and certainly have even more provincial background than the Bennets. Miss Heywood is practical, average and fond of observing the foibles of others. She also completely falls apart when she falls in love. She reminds me so much of myself in my early 20's that it is almost uncanny.
Maybe I should do the screenplay for Sandition . . . .
Monday, July 09, 2007
Austenphiles, Start YOur Engines
I was visiting with a friend here in the Village the other day and she had a book on the table that was given to her as a birthday gift. It is called Austenland. It was written by an author I've never heard of before, Shannon Hale. She has written a few other books, mostly young adult novels. One of them was even named a Newberry Honor book. Oh, and she is a young Mormon gal from SLC with two little kids. I hate her.
I was watching the movie The Queen while I was rocking my baby at three o'clock in the morning the other day and saw a preview for something else that looks very promising. Becoming Jane is due out in early August. Less novel adaptation and more made up biography about the master herself, but it looks like fun. I'm kind of an Anne Hathaway fan. I don't think I'll talk Plantboy into being at the premier or anything--our summer will be full of Jason Bourne, pirates, Spider Man, and (if I'm lucky) Harry Potter. Jane may have to wait for Netflix to bring her to my mailbox.
And here is a shoutout to Desmama for friendship above and beyond the call of duty. Thanks, girlfriend. May you find a similar good Samaritan on your moving week.
I was watching the movie The Queen while I was rocking my baby at three o'clock in the morning the other day and saw a preview for something else that looks very promising. Becoming Jane is due out in early August. Less novel adaptation and more made up biography about the master herself, but it looks like fun. I'm kind of an Anne Hathaway fan. I don't think I'll talk Plantboy into being at the premier or anything--our summer will be full of Jason Bourne, pirates, Spider Man, and (if I'm lucky) Harry Potter. Jane may have to wait for Netflix to bring her to my mailbox.
And here is a shoutout to Desmama for friendship above and beyond the call of duty. Thanks, girlfriend. May you find a similar good Samaritan on your moving week.
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