Sense and Sensibility
Cast: Daisy Edgar-Jones, Esmé Creed-Miles, George MacKay, Caitríona Balfe, Frank Dillane, Herbert Nordrum, Fiona Shaw
Director: Georgia Oakley
Star rating: ★★★.5
Jane Austen was only 21 when she started writing the first draft of Sense and Sensibility, but it was only at 35 when she would finally publish it in 1811. Those years shaped her life entirely. It was her first book, one brimming with the rich complexities of early adulthood, of slowly revealing what it means to occupy the world as a woman. Austen’s unfailing wit at poking the little hypocrisies of plain society are so acute and masterful that even today it stands out, one generation after another. So, with every new adaptation of her work, a new generation comes to see her anew, as a writer writing about what she knew best, to be a woman in a man’s world.
The premise
The new adaptation, written by Diana Reid and directed by Georgia Oakley, is devotedly more naturalistic and moody in its interpretation of the novel. It shines the light on the loss that Dashwood family suffers at the onset of the drama. After their father dies, Mrs Dashwood and her three daughters (Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret) are left with about £500 a year total among the four of them. Elinor (played by Daisy Edgar-Jones with quiet sincerity) is the quiet and perceptive one, while Marianne is all heart and passion- building the man in her dreams to fall in love with. Unfortunately, they have all fallen rather drastically from wealth into reduced circumstances.
Before they move to Barton Cottage in Devonshire, Elinor falls for young Edward Ferrars (George MacKay has never looked better, thanks to Grace Snell’s superbly tailored designs), but before her girls are branded too hasty and immodest, Mrs Dashwood (Caitríona Balfe) insists that they relocate. Edward is as modest as Elinor and their feelings do not find enough room to grow- exquisitely captured in one short scene by cinematographer Arnaud Potier when he looks at her with wordless yearning.
What works
Oakley’s framing in several scenes are quite interesting, as she watches these young women putting on a smile, letting go of a rather sad disposition. Her frames are decidedly dark and there’s always a sense of melancholic focus on how these women must feel to see so little. Yet, the sisters must maintain a facade as they are expected to perform their familial duties. The colours embody a naturalistic tone, letting go of the bright, sunlit look of traditional Austen adaptations- an interpretation that ultimately fits the disposition of the characters greatly.
The only girl who is still hopeful is Marianne (an incredible turn from Esmé Creed-Miles, daughter of Samantha Morton). It is with great hope she will then meet a gallant Mr Willoughby, who is played sharply by Frank Dillane. Closely watching these lovebirds is Colonel Brandon (Norwegian actor Herbert Nordrum, a role made unforgettable by the late Alan Rickman in the 1995 version), who is a man of few words, and as Marianne puts it, rather dull.
Marianne’s headstrong energy infuses tremendous energy into the scenes as she readily occupies every space she walks into. As the film progresses with steady attention to detail, Creed-Miles is able to draw out Marianne’s arc from an infallible girl waking up to see a world with maturity- with extraordinary control. The intense turmoil alongside her profound sense of self-respect are her own, but she must learn too. She must learn that love is not everything, that it will not suffice. Her scenes with Nordrum are the film’s most finely judged exchanges, one filled with romantic resilience and hope. And Fiona Shaw is very much a scene-stealer as Mrs Jennings, laughing like an owl at the dinning table and effectively making a case for a survivor amongst them all.
Final thoughts
It is only fair that the 1995 adaptation of Sense and Sensibility remains the benchmark, with Ang Lee’s razor-sharp focus and Emma Thompson’s magnificently judged interpretation of the dialogues. It remains, in many ways, the gold standard for any adaptation, for that matter. Still, that does not mean there won’t be any more adaptations to follow for a text so enduring in its tension between passion and prudence, head and heart. Oakley’s version is wonderfully balanced and reconstructed, but just a little dry. Austen was always brimming with her severely harnessed wit nestled within the romance, and this adaptation seems to focus less on the former.
We are Marianne and Elinor all at once: we reveal and we conceal, we love and fail, but still we face ourselves to a new day. It is a tale as old as time, and as fresh as the first rays of sunlight. Sense and Sensibility suggests that love must co-exist with reason, or else what else can we live for?