My introduction to Persuasion was freshman year in college. During my enthusiastic throes for Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice, I was determined to complete this Austen novel.
And so I read the first chapter. I was startled, and paused, then, grimaced. Persuasion — to a Ten in her teens — was gloomy, hard to comprehend, and overall unappealing. Anne Elliot seemed old and dispassionate and weak. Sad to say, I abandoned the novel.
Fast forward to a few years of Ten in the real world. A random selection on my Netflix queue brought a different light to first impressions. I cannot remember what pushed me to rent the 1995 adaptation of Persuasion. But I remember sitting on front of the TV screen, unmoving, as I watched the credits roll by. The next day, I head to the bookstore and grabbed the Austen novel. Two nights later, I knew it was true love.
Later still, Persuasion ranks as one of my favorite books. The 1995 adaptation ranks as one of my favorite films. I was thrilled at the news of Masterpiece Theater airing an ITV production. With Anthony Head playing as the vain and foolish Sir Elliot, no less. Expectations were high.
The latest incarnation’s first frames were wobbly images of a nervous Anne, marching around the Kellynch Hall. It was disconcerting, really. Sally Hawkins’ interpretation, fragile and easily discomposed, was not I envisioned. Still, she was a capable Anne Elliot. Rupert Penry-Jones’s Captain Wentworth was dashing, yet he felt lacking.
The supporting cast had acceptable performances. A few times, they showed flashes of luster. Still, the end result was not a pretty sight.
Tony Head’s Sir Elliot differed from the vain, foppish character in the novel. Instead, he came out angry, more autocratic. It was different, but I liked it. Tobias Menzies’ Mr. Elliot was smooth and slick, as was his character. He was a presence on screen, possibly a hair better than Sam West’s. Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay were unremarkable in their roles. Lady Russell seemed too soft to have been able to exert much influence over Anne. Henrietta and Louisa Musgroves were indistinguishable from one another. Louisa could’ve shown more spitfire than her ‘Catch me!’ routine. Mary was a caricature, yet oddly humorous. The rest of the Musgroves were forgettable.
The screenplay was also a hit and miss in many respects. I loved the line that came after Lady Russell said, ‘One day, you’ll find someone to love you as you deserve’. To which Anne replies poignantly, ‘I’m 27′. It was a high point, but it never soared more than that. It reshuffled key lines from the novel, and threw them in random scenes. Anne’s confession of the constancy of a woman’s love was a turning point for Captain Wentworth’s determination. But, it was sadly relegated as a minor scene with the captain out of earshot. The waltz in the end didn’t make any sense, unless you’ve read the book. There was no mention of Anne’s discontinuation of dance.
The tragedy of the poorly executed Persuasion lay on the hands of the director. His fondness of jerky camera work and many close-ups detracted, instead of enhancing the adult fairy tale. The handheld camera effect can give a sense of voyeurism, letting the audience be in the moment with the character. Instead, it felt like a gimmicky device, instead of a storytelling entity.
Despite the harsh words in this quasi-review, for a TV special, two-thirds of the show was decent and watchable. I came to like the jittery Anne and the captain. I was ready to forgive half of its flaws and recommend it to other viewers. That is, until I saw the pivotal scene, the climax that brought the lovers together, the key scene that was just before happily-ever-after.
For the last ten minutes, Anne was chanelling Lola. The breach of etiquette alone was mind-boggling. The sudden barrage of characters unwittingly separating Anne and Frederick resembled a comedy routine. Anne running across the streets went on and on. And on. And on. Then, our heroine found her hero. They looked at each other and kissed. All’s well in the fairy tale. I was relieved, yes. But not in ways I’d like to end my romances. At this point, I was in a state of disbelief, eye-rolling, and snorting. At this point, I was glad it was finished. At this point, the running torture was over.
Perhaps, a repeat viewing could change my mind from this grim impression of this TV movie. I had to watch P&P twice before I became enamoured with Matthew Macfadyen’s Mr. Darcy. It could happen. Maybe.
