Jane Austen Would Be Proud of This Mini-series

For several months now, I have been greatly intrigued by the 1995 BBC / A&E miniseries Pride and Prejudice. The curiosity that I, Erin Elizabeth, experienced thanks to the hearty recommendations of my good friend Elisabeth was finally sated this week, courtesy of another close friend... by the name of Elizabeth. It would seem that fate was aligned in my favor, drawing me to yet another Elizabeth, this one pre-dating us all by a couple of centuries.

It is through the eyes of Elizabeth Bennet (Jennifer Ehle) that we watch Jane Austen's classic novel unfold, and it is much the same in this five-hour mini-series, though we do occasionally catch a glimpse of scenes in which the second-eldest of the Bennett daughters plays no part. A quick-witted, free-spirited girl of about 20, she enjoys the close companionship of her older sister Jane (Susannah Harker) and the special affections of her father (Benjamin Whitrow), with whom she shares a sly sense of humor. While the dearest wish of her well-meaning but overdramatic, busy-bodyish mother (Alison Steadman) is to have all five of her daughters married off to men of fortune as quickly as possible, Elizabeth doesn't seem too anxious to take a walk down the aisle, and if she does, she'd prefer to go tumbling head over heels.

That's not to say she isn't practical. She's simply seen all too closely the pitfalls of a passionless marriage thanks to her parents, and she's horrified by her no-nonsense friend Charlotte's (Lucy Scott) suggestion that Jane turn on the charm to secure the rich Charles Bingley (Crispin Bonham-Carter), who seems to have taken quite a liking to her. Not that Elizabeth dislikes him; indeed, in all her dealings with him, she has found him to be as generous and good-natured as his sister Caroline (Anna Chancellor) is snobby and uncivil. She simply doesn't think marriage is something to be rushed into.

At least she knows for herself exactly what sort of men to avoid in her courtships. Men like Mr. Collins (David Bamber), the awkward, self-righteous clergyman who will inherit her father's estate upon his death. This cousin of hers is prone to making long speeches on tedious subjects, his favorite of which is his overbearing patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh (Barbara Leigh-Hunt), and all the material delights of her estate. In fact, it is his devotion to this woman that drives him to ask Elizabeth's hand in marriage, since she indicated that he ought to find himself a wife and since he thinks the proper thing would be to marry someone in the family so the house will not be lost to the Bennets after all. It's a nice thought, but not at all worth the torment it would bring Elizabeth to have such a man for a husband.

Worse than Mr. Collins, who is too ridiculous for her to take too seriously, is Fitzwilliam Darcy (Colin Firth), the darkly handsome friend of Mr. Bingley who snubs Elizabeth upon their first meeting, who verbally spars with her when they meet again at Bingley's home, who convinces the impressionable Bingley that his affections for Jane are not returned, who evidently is responsible for the ruination of the career aspirations of George Wickham (Adrian Lukis), the charming officer Elizabeth warms to. Yes, the deck is stacked against Darcy despite his vast wealth, so when he approaches her with a wholly unexpected marriage proposal that is as unromantic in its own way as Mr. Collins', Elizabeth balks. It's only after this, the midway point in the mini-series, that Elizabeth begins to suspects she may have misjudged Darcy...

Even those unfamiliar with the story must suspect that there is more to Darcy than a dour countenance and a terse tongue. In his star-making role, Firth boasts icy features the first couple of times we meet him, but there is fire in his subsequent exchanges with Elizabeth. There's a sense that while he may find Elizabeth frustrating, he also is invigorated by her, finding in her spirited demeanor and unapologetic wit a refreshing change from Caroline, who never learns that undercutting Elizabeth is not the way to win Darcy's favor. We watch his behavior toward her change subtly; we see the hurt in his eyes when she rejects his offer to dance, the admiration when he gazes at her as she plays and sings for Lady Catherine, who happens to be Darcy's aunt.

Indeed, while Darcy marvels over the beauty of Elizabeth's eyes, his are even more arresting, communicating the depths of his soul as effectively as any of his meticulously chosen words. Firth reminds me of Christopher Plummer, whose eyes are stern and flinty for the first half of The Sound of Music but gradually soften as Captain Von Trapp falls in love with Maria, until they melt into a misty puddle when he finally blurts out, "You can't marry someone... when you're in love with someone else." The comparable moment in Pride and Prejudice has to be when Darcy stares dreamily at Elizabeth as she turns the pages of sheet music for his sister Georgiana (Emilia Fox), thus distracting the delicate young woman from the mortifying comments of Caroline. A mutual regard for Georgiana, to say nothing of the awkward but blissful opportunity for a new start their accidental meeting has afforded, seems to have deepened Darcy's affections and awakened Elizabeth's.

Beyond the eyes, we get several little moments that show the depths of Darcy's discomfort in finding himself unable to resist Elizabeth's charms, later compounded by her rejection. Twice we see him submerge himself in water - once in a tub, once in a pond, both times evidently to douse the improper passion burning inside him. On other occasions we see him engaging in various elite sporting activities, again seeming to need a physical outlet to distract himself from emotional pain. (I couldn't help but think of Lex Luthor in a couple of scenes; what is it with rich, inscrutable guys and billiards and fencing?) His character is always revealed one tiny bit at a time, and the reserve he demonstrates around Elizabeth is such that his dismissal of Jane as disinterested in Bingley is not only presumptuous, it seems hypocritical. How can such a deep man make such shallow judgments?

If only Bingley were not so easily persuaded - though his reliance on Darcy at least means that his friend can undo the damage his meddling has wrought. For as much as I adore Darcy, I'm equally smitten with his closest friend, who is always diplomatic, courteous and cheerful. He's the sort of fellow who lights up a room when he walks in, and he's perfectly matched to optimistic, altruistic Jane, who can't help but see the best in everyone, even if such kindness is undeserved. Bonham-Carter conveys Bingley's generous nature wonderfully; while these two men may be very different from each other, it's hard to say which sister gets the better end of the deal.

Steadman is a tour de force as Mrs. Bennet, always chattering away in the most animated fashion, wringing her hands, caterwauling comically, conniving whenever a marriage prospect appears within reach, petulantly bemoaning the unfairness of it all when her schemes don't quite work out. Whitrow's humor is drier; he doesn't speak half as much as his wife does, yet nearly every sentence out of his mouth is a zinger, a triumph of sarcasm whose meaning is usually missed by its target but not an astute audience. There is almost always a twinkle in his eyes and dimples in his cheeks; he can't hide them no matter how cross he tries to appear. And for all his laughter at his family's expense, Mr. Bennet does feel genuine, if fleeting, remorse for the disaster his poor planning could wreak upon his daughters if they fail to marry during his lifetime. Whenever he was on screen, I paid especially careful attention, and my diligence never failed to be rewarded with his dialogue, always delivered with impeccable comic timing.

Smaller characters add further flavoring to the mini-series. Chief among them is Lydia (Julia Sawalha), the youngest Bennet whose imprudent entanglement with Wickham (whose later exchanges with Elizabeth are pricklingly uncomfortable) toward the end sets into motion the fruition of Elizabeth's blooming desires. Sawalha is a boisterous bundle of giggles whose impish face reminded me strikingly of Billy Boyd, who portrayed mischievous Pippin in The Lord of the Rings. She runs around the house making breathless, silly exclamations. She finds everything to be a joke - except for anything that comes out of the mouth of her older sister Mary (Lucy Briers). These statements are always met with the most exaggeratedly exasperated of sighs. While the audible reaction is another indication of Lydia's immaturity, Mary's Debbie Downer demeanor is a bit much for anyone to take. She truly seems to relish being miserable, and she tries to spread that wealth around as much as possible with her constant moralizing and her insistence on providing the musical entertainment at every party, despite her mediocre skill and her refusal to play anything that could be remotely considered fun. Poor Kitty (Polly Maberly) is wedged between these two sisters, and as she functions mainly as a shadow for Lydia, we scarcely notice her whenever her little sister is on screen. By the time she gets a bit of time for herself, we're much too engaged in the affairs of the other Bennets to pay much attention.

Then there is the wide assortment of friends and neighbors: jovial Sir William Lucas (Christopher Benjamin), whose delight in observing youthful joys and engaging in a bit of match-making calls to mind Sense and Sensibility's Sir John Middleton; Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner (Tim Wylton and Joanna David), the kindly uncle and aunt who are responsible for Elizabeth's life-changing visit to Pemberley, Darcy's estate; Mr. Hurst (Rupert Vansittart), Bingley's Neanderthal of a brother-in-law, who scarcely opens his mouth if not to snore or grunt out something semi-intelligible; Maria Lucas (Lucy Davis), Charlotte's good-natured sister who adores Elizabeth and is awed but intimidated by Lady Catherine, whom the two often visit during their stay with the now Charlotte Collins; and several others.

Andrew Davies' script relies heavily upon Austen's own dialogue, which is a good thing since that is where her wit shines brightest. We're treated to many heated exchanges as well as lines spoken away from the bustle of a crowded cast of characters, where comparative silence increases the impact of words uttered with quiet conviction. It's easy to tell where each of the six installments ends, which gives a better appreciation for how well-paced it is, with each segment introducing an important element.

The cinematography is wonderful; we understand why Mrs. Gardiner is so in love with the untamed beauty of this particular section of English countryside. I often found myself wistfully wishing I could step into that world for a few hours and "take a turn" through the wind-swept grass with Elizabeth. Carl Davis' pianoforte-driven score, meanwhile, adds a lovely sprightly tone to many scenes, capturing the energy of the diverse group of characters.

Pride and Prejudice is five hours of supreme entertainment, an outstanding adaptation of one of the most beloved novels in English literature. I think Miss Austen would be very impressed. This Erin Elizabeth sure is.