Dude, Where's My Corset?
Pride and Prejudice is not exactly fare for those obsessed with period minutiae, or storytelling that holds the cheese, since it overlooks the former and indulges the latter. Nevertheless, the costumes are darling, the scenery divine, and the heroes delectable. I have to admit that despite the smoochy-moochy, it was a fun, frothy flick deserving of the adjective: quaff.
I like my period films to be correct down to the flower-pattern on the curtains. Tastes change, of course, but I would have liked for their to be a better balance instead of the jar between exquisite mise en scene and artsy-fartsy colour fades.
Speaking of fading and digression, the chemistry between Lizzie and Darcy in this version lacks that old-fashioned, formal tedium that made their relationship so excruciatingly pleasurable and ultimately moved the plot. But oh, this stuff! No tension! No questions! And I’m too depressed to talk about the end.
So let’s talk about stuff that was good. The costumes were beautifully 1795 (The year thought for the story to have been originally written)- except the fact that Keira Knightley is never wearing a hat. The casting was really good—Jane seems more like Jane. The fifteen-year olds look like they’re actually fifteen. And although there is no Colin Firth, Darcy is rugged, English, and at times, smouldering. I liked the bustle and dirt in this new one. Although the original text has been adapted, the spirit is still there and many of the most important lines have been luckily preserved.
Bottom line: Would I spend 10 bucks to see it? Probably not. But I’d cough up the money for a matinee—or to enjoy watching my boyfriend squirm from romance-overload.
