For those of you who haven’t already seen it, some LA Mormon girls have made a hilarious and so far fake trailer for Jane Austen’s Fight Club.
Now this is deeply satisfying; I don’t deny it. Everyone wants to see proper young ladies kick ass. Time period is not important, but the more proper, the more ass they obviously have to kick. (See: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, obviously Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Kill Bill – does she count as proper? – and so on and so on.) I’m tempted, naturally, to make a list of other movies Jane Austen could be inserted into, for copyright-ambiguous fun and profit. The Matrix: Jane Austen Reloaded springs to mind.
What about Little Miss Sunshine Bennet? In this quirky romp, the Bennet family drives their falling-apart carriage from Hertfordshire all the way to London just so Mary can compete in a talent competition. Lydia isn’t talking because she wants to join the military [wink wink nudge nudge], and Mr. Collins dies en route, the dirty old man. I think it should do well.
Or, in Eleanor and Marianne’s Excellent Adventure, the two bodacious sisters set out on a time-traveling quest to find sweet rhyme and pure reason, which will save the future universe from annihilation by evil spamlords. Along the way, they pick up a fun set of characters, including Lady Gaga, Stephen Hawking, and Stephen Colbert, all of whom embarrass them immensely. Quite by accident, they do find true love and happiness. Barack Obama advises a gathering at Sir John Middleton’s to be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes!
All of this is very jolly, but I would just like to point something out here. Readers, has or has not Austenacious had a Jane Austen Fight Club column for almost a year now?! Are we owed royalties on this video? Our legal team better get busy!
In the meantime, perhaps our loyal readers could make trailers for our other columns. What Would Jane Do? is clearly a sickeningly sweet romance in which a cynical advice columnist is saved by a long-lost love (probably by falling down a hill). Jane Austen Hates You is probably an indie comedy, possibly about YouTube, MySpace, and all them there Social Networking Sites, hopefully starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel. Ask Mrs. Fitzpatrick sounds like an Agatha Christie to me, and Quote Unquote is clearly the new Bond movie.
Readers, are you game? What other movies mesh well with Austen novels? Or mesh so terribly badly they just have to go?
P.S. Jane Austen’s Army of Darkness! Just saying. . .
Jane Austen died on July 18, 1817, of disputed causes, making this the 193rd anniversary of her death. Is it weird that we haven’t seen a book yet with Jane Austen as a ghost, ala Nearly Headless Nick in Harry Potter? We’ve been through swathes of the Austen undead without coming to this fairly obvious choice. Is it passe, perhaps? Rather than having a vampire Austen chomping on wine and chocolate, how about a ghostly Austen flitting through a Gothic story or setting, making sure all the mysteriously locked chests are only filled with laundry lists? I could go for that.
Or what about a banshee Austen shrieking when people misunderstand her take on marriage, again? Psst! Lydia and Wickham’s marriage was doomed because they got married out of lust and boredom, not because they got married quickly. And actually, it wasn’t all that quickly. Jane would have agreed that you should marry the “right” person (duh), but it’s a considerable leap from that to hustling to the church/registry office/destination wedding with any old man you happen to pick up. Quoth Charlotte Lucas, “It is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life,” and we all know how she fared at the marriage market.
Sorry, got a little sidetracked there. We were discussing sarcastic ghosts who make fun of the Gothic, and ironic banshees. Let’s see, what else has been missed? We could make a case for Jane Austen, Necromancer, raising armies of spin-offs, but I think my favorite glimpse of Jane Austen’s life after death comes from E.M. Forster, in “The Celestial Omnibus.” Jane drives a carriage to heaven. And it’s not a barouche-landau.
Photo: The ghost of Barbara Radziwiłł, by Wojciech Gerson.
We here at Austenacious HQ confess to a new crush: Isaiah Mustafa, also know as the Old Spice Guy. I swear, until I saw this man, I thought quite enough Pride and Prejudice remakes have been done. Now, I want a new one: I want to see Isaiah Mustafa as Mr. Darcy! Who’s with me? And furthermore, who could possibly play opposite him as Elizabeth Bennet? (“Me!” I hear Miss Osborne crying, waving her hand in the air.) Who on Earth has what it takes? I am stumped, but we may as well start looking. You know the studios are.
Here Mr. Mustafa speaks up on behalf of libraries, thus clearly proving he is one of us. Even Jane Austen might be impressed with his precise logic. I say no more.
If you don’t see the video, click here.
So recently, the director of Aisha, the new Bollywood remake of Emma, said that her movie isn’t women-centric.
With all due respect: Yes, it is. If it’s a faithful adaptation of Emma, it’s primarily from the female perspective. It’s about a woman who mostly sticks her nose into other women’s lives. Those women respond, or don’t. Women! Women everywhere! Definitely lady-centric.
….Your point?
Listen. I get it. I know that men don’t generally go to “women’s” movies, though nobody seems to mind taking my lady-dollars when I go see Vin Diesel do his thing. I know that, from a marketing perspective, you and your studio might prefer to step away from the looming Chick Flick label—after all, it’s not like “chicks” have any money, or like to spend time at the theater, or eat concessions, or bring their friends (who, remember, also have no money) along.
But denying the prevalence of women in your film isn’t helping. It’s one thing to emphasize the ways in which Aisha, or Emma, might appeal universally—to say that women aren’t the only ones who find themselves wrong, and that women aren’t the only ones who fall in love, and that the experiences of a fictional woman might still be of interest to those who aren’t women, just as the experiences of a fictional men can certainly be of interest to those who aren’t men. But to say “this movie isn’t about women, so you should come and see it” plays into the exact logical loophole you’re trying to avoid. I think what you want to say is, “This movie is about a woman, and it has characters and a plot, just like man movies!” Or, “This movie is about a woman, but you don’t have to show your Girl Card at the door!” Or maybe just, “This movie is about a woman. Come on in.”
Just when I thought Miss Ball had reached the limits of mash-ups, the brilliant Mr. Luxton put the opening of Pride and Prejudice through an online pirate translator, thus exploring strange new worlds where writers need never go, because they’ve been replaced by Perl scripts. Well, he is a programmer. (And he’s probably about to tell me they aren’t Perl scripts, but never mind.) Behold the future!
IT be a truth universally acknowledged, that a single scallywag in possession o’ a good loot must be in wants o’ a beauty.
However wee known th’ feelin’s or views o’ such a scallywag may be on his first boardin’ a neighbourhood, this truth be so well fixed in th’ minds o’ th’ surroundin’ families, that he be considered as th’ rightful property o’ some one or other o’ thar daughters.
“Me dear Cap’n Bennet,” said his beauty t’ ‘im one day, “’ave ye heard that Netherfield Park be let at last?”
Cap’n Bennet replied that he had nah.
“But ’tis,” returned she; “fer Wench Long has jus’ been here, ‘n she told me all about it.”
Cap’n Bennet made no answer.
“Do nah ye wants t’ know who has taken it?” cried his beauty impatiently.
“Ye wants t’ tell me, ‘n I ‘ave no objection t’ hearin’ it.”
This was invitation enough.
“Why, me dear, ye must know, Wench Long says that Netherfield be taken by a young scallywag o’ large loot from th’ north o’ England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise ‘n four t’ see th’ ship, ‘n was so much delighted wit’ it that he agreed wit’ Cap’n Morris immediately; that he be t’ loot possession afore Michaelmas, ‘n some o’ his servants are t’ be in th’ ship by th’ end o’ next week.”
“Wha’ be his name?”
“Bingley.”
“Be he married or single?”
“Oh! single, me dear, t’ be sure! A single scallywag o’ large booty; four or five thousand a year. Wha’ a fine thin’ fer our poppets!”
With all the different translation software out there, I feel sure we could sell new versions of poor Jane’s work in no time flat! How about a Pig Latin translation?
Itway isway away uthtray universallyway acknowledgedway atthay away inglesay anmay inway ossessionpay ofway away oodgay ortunefay ustmay ebay inway antway ofway away ifeway.
Or Swedish Chef?
It is a troot uneeferselly ecknooledged thet a seengle-a mun in pussesseeun ooff a guud furtoone-a moost be-a in vunt ooff a veeffe.
Or, just for the nice lady in Airplane! who speaks Jive:
It be a trud universally acknowledged dat some sin’le joker in possession uh a baaaad fo’tune gots’ta be in wants’ uh a mama.
There now, children, you can have all the fun you want, and let mama get back to her book. Bring us back a souvenir from the Piratical Jane theme park, and say thank you to the gentleman. He makes your life better in ways you never even dream of. Trust me on this.
Photo credit: Pirate cookie photo ©Sweet! Cupcakes and Treats (Just Cupcakes!). Used under Creative Commons licensing.
So, how can I put this? Let’s see. Okay, so. Sometimes, it seems to me that Austen adaptations are…shall we say, remiss in failing to offer a satisfying ending? Failing to seal the deal, if you know what I mean? Sure, Lizzy and Darcy end up in the Carriage of Loooove at the end of the 1995 adaptation, but what’s with the little peck as they’re driving off (frozen for effect, even—what, BBC, do you think we didn’t see what you did there, you dirty cheaters)? And, really, nothing for Jane and Bingley? They’re going to get a complex, people. Even Emma Thompson’s Elinor promptly explodes with emotion when Edward turns out not to be married—but does she sweep him off his feet and carry him away, complete with soaring music and distracting crane-shot camera work? Spoiler alert: she does not. And oh, sure, maybe it’s not in the book, exactly, but then neither is a thirty-six-year-old Elinor, a Jane Bennet that looks vaguely like a Greek statue, or that awesome cake on a pedestal (with ribbons!) at the end of Sense and Sensibility. I stand by what I say: more kissing, please! Jane won’t mind.
Thankfully, there are some recent Austen adaptations that seek to remedy the situation, and I think this sort of thing requires some, uh, research. Or, more specifically, a poll. Here are seven ending scenes from relatively recent Austen adaptations, all of them containing some sort of kissy-kissy true-love moment. Inquiring minds want to know: Austenacious readers, which is your favorite, and why? If there’s one that isn’t listed here, what is it (and why couldn’t we find it)?
Hit it.
Pride and Prejudice 1995
Mansfield Park 1999
Pride and Prejudice 2005
Persuasion 2007
Northanger Abbey 2007
Mansfield Park 2007
Emma 2010
Oh, readers, we do tire of Austen mashups.
That is, we would tire of Austen mashups if we ever read any of them.
It all just seems so unnecessary, all this revamping of the land of Austen in the name of murder and mayhem. But what if the mashup in question were, by definition, un-horrific? What if there were no zombies, no sea monsters, no vampires, and no modern-day single ladies looking for a man? What if it were, in fact, a mashup with adorableness? In that spirit, the fine folks over at Who’s Your Dachsund have graced us all with their fine video The Complete Jane Austen, featuring the usual Jane canon acted out by—you guessed it—baby lemurs!
Kidding. They’re Dachsunds.
(This is not to say that we would not enjoy baby lemurs in our Austen. “Oh, Mr. Wickham! How charming you are!”)
I’m especially fond of Captain Wentwoof, heartfelt letter-writter that he is. Such a charmer, that one. I bet he and his lady love enjoy long walk(ie)s on the beach at the end. How sweet!
…Somebody, please make this stop. I’m going to be thinking of Austenian wiener-dog jokes all day.
Okay, this really isn’t about cake at all. It’s just, well, we’ve seen lots of reports lately that the ship called Jane’s Popularity has sailed. Apparently, the well has run dry—we’re fresh out of original texts to adapt, reinterpretations and new ideas to build on, and embarrassing Colin Firth memorabilia to buy. So…I guess that’s it! We’re moving on! Who’s up for paintball? Pottery? Roller derby?
But hark! Who are these magical sisters called Bronte, sent to save us from our delusions about snappy dialogue and sexy Regency necklines?
Complete & Unabridged has some good things to say on the subject today, but this isn’t the first we’ve heard of the masses moving on to Bronte territory: with the coming of next year’s adaptations of Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, rumor has it that Haworth and the moors are the new place to be, literarily speaking. Cue midnight Thornfield attic tours, Team Rochester t-shirts, and a sudden interest in that severe center part in five, four, three…
Trust us. We know how these literary fandom things go. If you need some pointers, Bronteites, we’d be happy to help.
Here’s the awesome thing about books, though: You don’t have to choose. This isn’t a competition, and it isn’t a comment on your character. You can love Austen and the Brontes! You’re allowed to love the sparkling wit and domestic wisdom of Austen even as you sweat over Jane Eyre’s impending homelessness in the north country! You can long for a ball while also pondering therapeutic options for the residents of Thrushcross Grange! The only one who cares is probably Charlotte Bronte, and—I do hate to be the bearer of bad news—she’s dead.
Furthermore, readership—even new readership—is not a zero-sum game. A rise in Bronte popularity does not equal an Austenian fall from grace. Even if nobody ever adapts another Austen novel (oh, IMDB rumor snap!), Jane probably has more fans—dedicated, passionate fans—at this point in history than ever before. Nobody here is in danger of losing much of anything, except maybe a bit of the spotlight and a puzzling spot on the chick lit shelf. Whatever happens, the work isn’t diminished; we can afford to be generous. After all, how amazing would it be if everybody read Austen and the Brontes? And Eliot and Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell and all the rest of the greats, right down the line? Surely a revived reading culture, whether it begins with a truth universally acknowledged or with a little girl hiding in the library, is worth a little getting along?
Seriously, people. You should hear my “Kum ba ya.”
Okay, internet. Let’s talk about the next big thing. The trending topic. The thing all the kids are talking about, or would be if they were that cool and/or not frittering away their precious youths on ChatRoulette. We’re talking early 19th-century literature, the birth of the modern novel…sung. Yeah, that’s right. I’m talking Pride and Prejudice and that automatic pop-culture dynamite, the opera.
This Saturday, Mrs. Fitzpatrick and I did what all hot young things would on a sunny California afternoon: put on our enormous sunglasses, leggings, and gladiator sandals and hoofed it over to a Jane and the Arts seminar at San Francisco State University, hosted by the Jane Austen Society of North America, Northern California chapter, and partially featuring composer Kirke Mechem and his new Pride and Prejudice opera. Awww, yeah. Work it.
Mechem was, in fact, fascinating (and very enthusiastic when accosted at tea time to discuss Jane Austen March Madness), and spoke at length about the process of adapting Austen. From the perspective of a seasoned writer and composer, he spoke of the appeal of diverse characterization in Pride and Prejudice (and why he’d be unlikely to adapt, say, Persuasion in the same way), the humor and poignancy that attracted him to her work in the first place (see: Bennet, Jane and Mrs.), and tough decisions in the area of cutting (he left out Lizzy’s trip to Pemberley, but hear him out before you storm off in a huff). He spoke about incorporating—or not—the music of the day into his score, and about a single instance of borrowing from another artist’s work.
And then the singers came out.
And it was awesome.
It turns out that Pride and Prejudice practically begs to be set to music—not slavishly, not without edits and rearrangements, but in a way that explores the text in a new and totally entertaining light. Most striking was the way in which the music coordinated with and then illuminated each character in his or her turn—a spot-on aural representation of the people and universe of the novel. Mrs. Bennet as high (not to say shrill) soprano? Check. Darcy as graceful-yet-manly baritone? Also check. Mr. Collins as hilariously imperious bass baritone? Check check check check check. We heard Lizzy and Darcy’s awkward dance at the ball and Lizzy’s rebuttal of Collins, and capped everything off with an aria for (soprano) Jane Bennet, embellished slightly with the Sara Teasdale poem “Let It Be Forgotten”—which we loved for highlighting both the sweetness of Jane’s character and the sorrow of her situation. In terms of accessibility, there are no Viking helmets here; as opera goes, this is relatively light and totally approachable (and sung in English). If you think Jane Austen is funny, you’ll think her opera’s funny, too.
The Pride and Prejudice opera has yet to premiere professionally, and the internet has not seen fit to grace us with a video sample (we looked!), but consider this the Austenacious stamp of approval: we loved what we saw and heard, and we just can’t wait to hear Lizzy’s takedown of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. In fact, we take it back: Lady Catherine just might wear that Viking helmet.
I love E.M. Forster almost as much as I love Jane Austen, and how pleasant it is to discover that he understood the Austenite condition so well himself. He wouldn’t blame us for playing our Austenacious games, or girls (or boys) from being silly about Mr. Darcy, though who knows what he would say about the current spewing of adaptations. But his article shocked me. Listen to what he says about Chapter 2. Here’s the passage in my edition.
“Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,” said her father. “She times them ill.”
“I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied Kitty fretfully. “When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?”
BUT, Forster says that R.W. Chapman thought that last line didn’t belong to Kitty, since she was going to the ball, and would know when it would be. In the original edition it was on the next line and was said by Mr. Bennet. The printers forgot to indent it, and future editions ran the two paragraphs together. Chapman found other, similar errors.
Everyone in the outside world can say or do what they please to Miss Austen’s books, but inside them, I thought I was safe! I thought I knew what she was trying to tell me. But no, even after R.W. Chapman found these printer’s errors, in 1923, they have not been fixed! I am truly shocked by this. It seems like such a little thing, but who knows what other errors may be lurking? Possibly the scholars who write papers on single phrases used in books, but, like Forster, I believed Austen, and never questioned her.
I first read Pride and Prejudice when I was in seventh grade, and I accepted it as holy gospel. “This is how real people think and act,” I thought. “They are full of irony, they laugh whenever possible, they are thoughtful (except when they’re not).” I didn’t even particularly realize the book was funny until Mr. Fitzpatrick read it a few years ago! He thought it was hilarious, and was disturbed when a guy friend saw the Keira Knightley version and didn’t realize it was supposed to be funny. Talking about Pride and Prejudice with Mr. Fitzpatrick certainly helped me think about it in a new way. And now his mother has read it—I’m really interested to see how her perceptions will have differed from mine. No novel is the same to any two people, is it?
At the same time, it’s always odd when you hear or remember something differently from someone else—Liveblogging Emma highlighted that for me, as Miss Ball and I disagreed on words and actions several times. (Of course, I was always right. 
) Even the 1980 BBC version, which was very faithful, strangely switches around who said what, at times. And it makes one mistake that annoys me all out of proportion. When Lizzy is looking at Mr. Darcy’s portrait at Pemberley, “she thought of his regard . . . ; she remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression.” In the BBC version, she thinks “How stern you look in your portrait! But I remember your warmth, and would soften that look.” Not at all the same thing!
This is a long, rambling kind of post. I guess the point is that I think of Pride and Prejudice (and all Jane Austen’s other books) as real things, not just as somebody’s words. And that, as much as possible, I understand them. Other people may understand them differently, but they are still ours. To suddenly realize, even slightly, that they’re not, and I don’t, is as disturbing as realizing after 20 minutes that my husband and I have been talking about completely different things, and didn’t even know it.
Or am I just being paranoid?
