- “Fitzwilliam”
- “Just As She Is”
Today’s contestants: Mr. “Fitzwilliam” Darcy, of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, and and Mark “Just as She Is” Darcy, pugilist extraordinaire from Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’s Diary. It’s not to be missed!
In their corners:
Mr. Darcy does really, really nice things and doesn’t tell anybody. He spoils his little sister. He rides and shoots and reads and writes. He has ten thousand a year and a sweet pad (with trout pond!) to show for it. He’s loyal to his goofy best friend. He’s faithful even when there’s nobody to be faithful to.
Mark Darcy likes Bridget Jones just as she is. He’s handsome; he’s wealthy; he’s helpful in the kitchen. He’s a lawyer AND a do-gooder. He’s awkward, but nice, and he has the good sense to be ashamed at his own social ineptitude. He’s a nice boy, but he kisses like that.
Handicaps:
Mr. Darcy says rude things too loudly at parties. He barges in on his lady love, proposes marriage while also implying that marrying her would be a huge cramp on his swingin’ social style, and then gets pissy when she says no. He also hangs out with his friend’s appalling relatives.
Mark Darcy wears reindeer jumpers and should seriously rethink the length of his sideburns. He allows himself to be bullied by his business partner, Natasha. He always says exactly the wrong thing in every situation, and I believe we find out later that he doesn’t vote Labour. Horrors!
Decision
Mr. Darcy. Mark Darcy’s foibles take place on a smaller scale–he often says the wrong thing, for example, but generally comes through when the stakes are high, like when the soup is blue–and so he seems the kinder, gentler Darcy. And that’s exactly why he loses this battle: Mr. Darcy the Elder goes big or goes home. He declares passionate love…in the most insulting way possible. He stomps off, angry, and then gallops around in the middle of the night, out-nice-ing himself entirely. He is “violently in love,” and shows it, given the chance. Plus, we all know Mark Darcy can’t fight.
Ding ding ding ding ding! Knockout for Mr. (Fitzwilliam) Darcy!
In the introduction to my copy of Northanger Abbey, Terry Castle says the part where Catherine gets all frightened with the delicious Gothic horror of actually staying at an abbey is the weakest part of the book: “not very believable.” Does Terry seriously not ever get so wrapped up in a book or a movie that she can’t help seeing monsters behind every corner or ghosts in whispering trees? Not ever visit ruins and walk on the cobblestones pretending to be medieval when there’s a perfectly good modern path nearby? Personally, I get so affected by what I read or watch that it colors everything. Like Catherine, I do have to consciously remember that I am not the heroine in whatever novel I’m reading.
This is the essence of Romance, I think, dreaming that we are in another place, another time, probably one without dishes to wash and where you curse demons rather than Microsoft Word. It’s what leads us to walk dreamily around ruins like Dryburgh Abbey, above, which is actually a ruined abbey bought wholesale by the 12th Earl of Buchan in 1786 so he could be a Romantic, or at least look like one. Sir Walter Freakin’ Scott is buried there, for heaven’s sake. (Scott’s Minstrelsy records the tale of a woman who lived in the vaults with a sprite called Fatlips. How awesome is that?) Mr. Fitzpatrick and I went all the way to Scotland so we could walk around ruined abbeys, including Dryburgh. We never made it to the Lakes, like Elizabeth Bennet, though our own Miss Ball did.
Jane Austen must have known this fascination. Catherine Morland’s adventures with the black cabinet and Mrs. Tilney’s death are funny, but what about Marianne Dashwood and her obsession with Willoughby? Really, Jane treats Marianne like a Gothic heroine, letting her be so very miserable and almost die like that. I think Jane Austen felt the attraction of Romantic imagination, perhaps was scared by it—and laughed at it in herself and others. She always wanted to see what was really there, whether it was ghosts or dishes. Not be carried away by a phantom of love, like Lydia and Wickham, or Marianne and Willoughby. No, she wanted the real thing.
And is this not at least partly why we read Jane Austen, to pretend we’re Elizabeth Bennet, and imagine her laughing at us?
Ladies and (theoretical) gentlemen, I have an announcement to make. I have fightin’ words to share. I have a statement that will separate the men from the boys, the wheat from the chaff, and the deeply committed purists from those who just don’t care to hold a grudge. This is a big one.
I am here to defend the 2005 big-screen adaptation of Pride and Prejudice.
Is it the most faithful adaptation of Pride and Prejudice the world has ever seen? It is not. But whatever authenticity it loses in the translation, it gains in spirit—in beauty and in motion and in visual style. Have you ever seen a prettier version of the love story of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy?
It seems that a lot of people’s pooh-poohing of the two-hour (one might say Cliff’s Notes) version is right in how it’s called: this movie isn’t “the short Pride and Prejudice.” It isn’t “the Joe Wright Pride and Prejudice.” It’s “the Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice,” and that is generally not a term of endearment. And, you know, they’re not totally wrong. Knightley’s a very giggly Lizzie, and sometimes doesn’t come across as the great brain we know Lizzie to be. But even if she did, I’m not sure it matters much—a lot of people seem to despise her simply for the sake of despising her, and for her having the gall to even attempt the role. Similarly, Matthew McFadyen is no Colin Firth, but he’s still Darcy, and heaven help the man for daring to have his own take on the man. What we get from McFadyen is the depth of Darcy’s social awkwardness; look carefully, and you’ll see that he smolders with the best of them, but it’s in between fits of intense shyness. What he gives us is straight from the text—it’s just different.
Casting aside, the real selling point for me—what makes this adaptation one of my favorites—is its visual style, and director Joe Wright‘s (Atonement, The Soloist) uncanny eye for visual storytelling. Wright tells wonderful stories, with words optional; sometimes, he interprets, but that’s his job. One of my favorite moments in the movie has nothing to do with Elizabeth and Darcy at all—in the scene where Lizzie rejects Mr. Collins once and for all, Mrs. Bennet runs full-tilt down the lane to the river, wearing a fluffy white dress and surrounded by a flock of white geese, honking their heads off. It’s a wonderful, hilarious shot, a gentle visual joke that I believe Jane would have appreciated deeply. Then again, the shot where Darcy helps Lizzie into the carriage home from Netherfield is another favorite; Wright does a goosebump-inducing job of showing us the moment, highlighting the physical chemistry between the two of them hours before either of them will have the guts to bring it up for themselves. It’s lovely, and it’s efficient, and it’s beautiful in a way that simply doesn’t seem important the more staid adaptations. I think Jane would appreciate that.
It’s not that the 2005 Pride and Prejudice is my favorite; it’s not that I think it’s the best. I love Colin Firth’s sexual-tension-plagued first proposal as much as the next girl, and I wouldn’t turn up my nose at Greer Garson and Laurence Olivier, either. But, you know, sometimes a girl doesn’t have six hours to kill (or six hours of attention span, anyway). Sometimes a girl needs her Bennet/Darcy fix. Remember: “beautiful” doesn’t mean “bad.” Sometimes it just means easy on the eyes.
In lieu of great thoughts, we give you the preview of the Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice movie, but with lions instead of English people. An improvement? Too much like The Lion King? It’s eerie, somehow.
The Jane Austen Festival is on in Bath right now, and oh, the Austenacious sisters do so want to go! Mrs. Fitzpatrick may be married, but she still likes the sight of a redcoat. We hear there’s also dancing, talks, workshops, performances, and walking tours! Plus, they tried to get into the Guinness Book of World records with an attempt at the most people dressed in Regency costume at one place in one time. Apparently, strict rules governed the attempt. We’ll let you know how they do. The Festival runs until September 27.
Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/obenson/ / CC BY-NC 2.0
Today we lucky ladies at Austenacious have the golden opportunity to bring you an exclusive interview actor Colin Firth, whose star turn as Mr. Darcy in the 1995 BBC production of Pride and Prejudice garnered international critical acclaim and incited women everywhere to spontaneously throw their underwear at him. We sat down at Austenacious Studios for a brief chat:
Austenacious: Good morning, Mr. Firth.
Colin Firth: Good morning. Please, call me Colin.
A: All right, if you insist…Colin.
[silence]
CF: Miss?
A: Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I was just—has anybody ever told you that you have very luxurious hair, Colin?
CF: Well…thank you. I’m not sure they have, no. Now, er, shall we get down to the interview?
A: Yes. Yes, of course.
[silence]
A: Me again. Sorry about that. I’ll just look at my notes, now. Ahem. Mr. Firth—Colin—tell me: What first drew you to the role of Mr. Darcy?
CF: Well, he’s really one of the great male characters in all of British literature—all literature, really—and so I jumped at the chance to inhabit him as an actor.
A: Yes, I see. Now, would you mind telling us about any personal experiences or traits that you drew upon to prepare for the role?
CF: Well, you see, Mr. Darcy is quite the introvert, and I can under—
A: Was it your sparkly brown eyes, or the sensual curve of your breeches?
CF: I’m sorry?
A: I said, um, was it your darkly sounded sighs, or the eventual verb of your beaches?
CF: The verb of my beaches?
A: An American expression. Doesn’t translate. Let’s move on.
CF: I’ll have to look that one up when I get home. What is it—Urban Dictionary?
A: Mr. Firth, do you live at Pemberley year-round now? I mean, when you aren’t off shooting movies?
CF: Well, you see, I never did stay at Pemberley, not really—the estate we used to stand in for it is very beautiful, of course, but somebody does in fact own it, and I think might object to our hanging “Pemberley” signs permanently.
A: Right. And do you often fish in the trout pond?
CF: Trout pond?
A: I understand it’s quite well stocked.
CF: Er, no. You see, I don’t live in the country; I live in London. With my wife.
A: Ah, yes. And how is Elizabeth? Or, oh—does she prefer “Mrs. Darcy”?
CF: My wife’s name is Livia.
A: Excuse me?
CF: She’s Italian.
A: Ahhhh, I see. You celebrities are all so private! Of course your “wife” is “Italian.” Don’t worry—it’s only the internet. We’re very discreet.
CF: I’m sure you are, but you must realize that Elizabeth Bennet is fictional, and—
A: —and you respect her work, but you’re just friends. I think we’ve all heard that before. But we’ll respect your wishes, Mr. Firth.
CF: Colin.
A: Colin. Now, let me ask you: Will you be summering this year with the Bennet family, or is it just too weird, seeing Lydia and Wickham so soon after the incident? I mean, awk-ward, right?
CF: You know, I really had better go. I think I hear my agent calling me for dinner.
A: Of course. We wouldn’t want you to be late. Cold roast beef and chicken wait for no man, right?
CF: Er….right. Thanks for the, er, interview.
A: Tell your “wife” hello.
Note: This interview is entirely a work of fiction, and is in no way meant to reflect on Mr. Firth. In fact, it would probably be better for everybody if it also did not reflect quite so strongly on the staff of Austenacious.
There’s nothing this Austenacious chick digs more than Stephen Colbert’s snarky goodness (except perhaps Jon Stewart’s snarkier goodness). In celebration of the return of The Colbert Report after a painfully long three-week hiatus, I’d like to share this clip of Jane Austen getting a wag of Stephen Colbert’s finger . . . (though you’ll have to skip ahead to 1:43 into the video).
| The Colbert Report | Mon – Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c | |||
| Tip/Wag – Marvel Comics | ||||
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I’ll admit it. I was sucked in by the cover (the one you see above and not the horrible chick lit version used for the paperback). The dust jacket reads, “Jane Hayes is a seemingly normal young New Yorker, but she has a secret. Her obsession with Mr. Darcy, as played by Colin Firth in the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, is ruining her life. No real man can compare.” Hmm, that sounds familiar (minus the ruined life. Miss Osborne thinks she has a fine life despite her spinsterhood). How could I not buy this book?
Sadly, Austenland did not live up to expectations. The first red flag was in Chapter 1, when the main character hides her Pride and Prejudice DVDs in a plant during a visit from her aunt. Sure, there are many people who don’t understand how someone can be content watching the same movie over and over again. I am not ashamed to admit that certain movies, TV shows, and books beckon me repeatedly. So I’m perplexed that a woman who loves the Colin Firth P&P would be embarrassed by anyone seeing her DVDs. (For the record, my DVDs sit comfortably next to the TV, ready at any moment for viewing.)
Another thing that rubbed me the wrong way was the Fantasy Island quality of Jane’s Regency vacation. I have to admit that my aversion to playing dress-up is probably outweighing my ability to go with the flow of the novel. See, if you go to enough Star Trek conventions (as I have been known to do) and you’re not into dressing up (as I am not), you start to worry that people might think everyone who goes to cons either likes to dress up as a Klingon or hang out at Ren Faires in wench attire. While I love the Regency-era dresses, I don’t want to dress up in them every day and prance around reading sonnets and drinking tea. Even more importantly, my aversion to play-acting is a hundred times stronger than not wanting to dress the part. Granted, Jane didn’t choose a Regency vacation, so my problem is less about the character’s choices than about being a little weirded out at the idea that anyone would spend their vacation that way.
Mostly, though, I’m offended by the idea that failed relationships are caused by a woman’s desire to have her Mr. Darcy. It’s bad enough hearing from my family that I’m single because I’m too picky. (Note: They don’t specifically cite my love of Colin-Firth-as-Darcy, but they may as well.) But to have a humorous book about relationships and Jane Austen support the idea, well, that cheeses me off. Clearly, there’s more to relationships than being able to check off the following attributes:
- Tall, dark, and handsome (and looks doubly good when fencing or drenched in pond water)
- Witty and good at letter-writing
- Desirable income
- Reserved in crowds but charming once he opens up
- Dedicated to family
- Pissy at douchebag former childhood friends with tendencies toward bedding minors
But there’s also nothing wrong with having high expectations about a potential mate’s basic moral fiber.
I can’t wholeheartedly recommend this book, but I vaguely recall the main character redeeming herself, and I had some laughs at the little bits that reminded me of myself and my girlfriends. So read, if you must. Or, better yet, rent Lost in Austen if you want to experience the wacky hijinks of a modern-day gal stuck in a Regency environment.
Austenacious: where the women are accomplished, the men are smoldering yet virtuous, and nobody ever gets mocked for being a great reader (or, for that matter, for taking pleasure in a great many things).
Austenacious: Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday; news, notes, humor, and thoughtfulness on the topic of Jane Austen, her works, and the culture surrounding them and us.
Austenacious: Three friends, reading and watching and thinking and talking and laughing and definitely, definitely eating, and hoping to share the wealth. Believers that Jane Will Keep Us Together.
Austenacious: It’s an adjective. It’s a community. It’s a state of mind.
Welcome.
—Miss Ball, Miss Osborne, and Mrs. Fitzpatrick
