Pride and Prejudice has been compulsively told and retold on the silver screen -- in the last decade alone we have seen about a half-dozen adaptations. There is a simple reason for this: It's a great story. Still, with each retelling, the threat of overload looms ever larger. Surprisingly, though, the latest Pride, starring Kiera Knightley, manages to distinguish itself from its competitors, entertain audiences of both sexes --- which is notable considering Pride's many chick-flick adaptations --- and still remain reasonably faithful to the original novel.
Lizzy Bennett is a clever and outspoken woman in Georgian England, a society in which simplicity and docility were considered to be chief among the feminine virtues. Mr. Darcy is a proud and laconic wealthy gentleman who moves in the same circles as Elizabeth. Pride tells of the turbulent and seemingly unlikely romance between these two young people, so unlike in personality and economic circumstances, and who, upon first meeting, are indifferent and even hostile toward one another.
"She is tolerable," Darcy remarks to a companion, ignorant that Lizzy is eavesdropping, "but not handsome enough to tempt me."
No summary, however, can do this story justice, because its true substance lies not in the twists and turns of its sublimely executed plot, but rather in the psychological depth of its characters, and especially in their subtle and complex relations with one another. Jane Austen, who, back in 1811, penned the beloved novel on which Pride is based, had an unmatched eye for character. Austen understood human personalities so keenly that even today we recognize some part of her characters, created two centuries ago, in almost everyone we meet.
Director Joe Wright deftly translates Austen's penetrating eye for character onto the screen. In an early scene, when relations between Lizzy and Darcy are seemingly chilly, Darcy lends Lizzy his hand as she climbs into a carriage. As he walks away, we see Darcy's hand, isolated in close-up, flex abruptly. In this small gesture, we learn almost as much about Darcy and his pent-up emotions as we do from the sum total of his dialogue.
Subtle touches such as this will delight lovers of Austen's novel. But such subtlety would be impossible without skillful acting, provided here by Matthew MacFayden --- a wonderfully awkward and tortured Darcy --- and, yes, Knightley, whose casting as the beloved Lizzy drew gasps from Austen diehards. But Knightley --- perhaps because the actor is only freshly 20 herself --- captures the youthful energy, and the youthful petulance, of Lizzy far better than her most imposing predecessor, Jennifer Ehle, of the six-hour, love-it-or-hate-it 1995 BBC version.
This new, two-hour version will undoubtedly be preferable to many because it actually attempts to make the novel into a movie, rather than slavishly depicting every detail that appears on the page. Books are books and movies are movies, and Wright's film, unlike the BBC's, knows this.
Still, the film is not without its cringe-inducing moments, especially near the end, when the tone becomes suddenly sticky and sentimental. The merit of Austen's novel, and the first three quarters of Wright's film, is that without being at all cold they both manage a sober portrayal of love --- one that respects its complexities and nuances, and even its less noble wellsprings (i.e. money).
In its final minutes, Wright's film abandons its Austenian sobriety, and instead indulges in the kissing and cooing of a daytime soap. However, because Wright's film is otherwise so restrained, so dryly funny, and, perhaps best of all, so expertly condensed, the film is not doomed by its schmaltzy ending. After all, a little cringing is a small price to pay for such a worthy adaptation -- and four fewer hours of running time.
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