Mansfield Park 2014: Coming to a Fake Casting Call Near You

Well, we’ve finished the novel, people, so let’s get down to the real work: Mansfield Park 2014, the mega-budgeted star-magnet “romantic” “comedy,” which draws unprecedented, gender-balanced crowds to the multiplex but also woos critics with its profound insights on the human instinct to escape the ha-ha! The Oscar (whichever one you like) shall be ours, and we can all crowd up on the stage in dresses that make us look way worse than any self-respecting famous person, because we have dressed ourselves and are concerned that we may have lost our $4 Target earrings on the way up the aisle! They will probably have to play us off with music, because we are loud and difficult to corral and probably waving at Colin Firth!

Are you with me, Austen Nation?

By which I mean, it’s been well-documented that the most recent adaptations of Mansfield Park have been…odd. To be fair, it’s not an easy story to adapt: there’s a play, and then there isn’t a play, and then adultery, and then some goody-two-shoes get married (goody four-shoes?). The End! We’re just waiting for the agents’ calls to pour in!

But really. I think we can do better. So let’s talk casting.

Fanny Price: I keep coming back to Zoe Boyle, Downton Abbey‘s Lavinia Swire, for no reason I can quite put my finger on. Who can play virtous yet inert, and make us like it? Readers?

(Fun fact: Just this evening, I learned that the 1997 theatrical-release Fanny is, in fact, Frances O’Connor and not Embeth Davidtz, Mark Darcy’s snooty law partner in Bridget Jones’s Diary [“To Mark and his Natasha!”]. For YEARS I’ve thought this. And I’ve seen the movie!)

Edmund Bertram: I have to support the existing choice of Jonny Lee Miller on this one, though it’s primarily because of his performance as Mr. Knightley in the most recent BBC Emma. Handsome and kind, yet vaguely judgmental? He does that so well. (See also: I am trying VERY hard not to suggest Dan Stevens, especially considering the next entry down. But Dan Stevens, you guys.)

Mary Crawford: Hayley Atwell in the 2007 BBC one sounds like strong work to me, and I hate to typecast the Downton crowd—but my imaginary Mary has, since she first stepped onto the page, been Michelle Dockery. (My brain is a nerrrrrrd.) Tell me I’m wrong.

Henry Crawford: Everybody I can think of for this is either Too Much (Ryan Gosling, self? REALLY?) or an infant (Matthew Lewis!). And here I thought brainstorming hot British actors would be my shining moment of usefulness. Help me, readers! You’re my only hope!

Lady Bertram: This really COULD be Embeth Davidtz. I hope she likes pugs.

Mrs. Norris: Julie Walters. Imelda Staunton. Brenda Blethyn, reprising her role as Mrs. Bennet. Who knew middle-aged lady actors were Britain’s top commodity?

Readers, who would you pick, for these characters or any other? Let’s hear it!

 

Everybody Loves an Austen Girl

We Austenites can be a boy-crazy bunch.

We make much of Mr. Darcy diving into a pond in a puffy shirt (which isn’t even in the book!). We divide into camps over, say, Knightley and Wentworth, and then further into sub-camps over Jonny Lee Miller and Jeremy Northam (or Colin Firth and Matthew McFadyen, or Ciaran Hinds and Rupert Penry-Jones). We admire the mutton chops and the fancy dance moves of Austen heroes from Sense and Sensibility all the way up to Persuasion. We objectify the pants off those fictional characters—see what I did there?—and have a fantastic time doing it.

And we’re missing half the story.

In Friday’s Telegraph, “novelist and ladies’ man” (heh)  Jay McInerney gave us the other side of the coin: the male perspective on the ladies of Austen. Spoiler alert: It seems the menfolk can’t get enough of the fine eyes and dirty hems of Elizabeth Bennet any more than Darcy could; McInerney also reveals things for Emma Woodhouse and, with a charming note of self-consciousness, Fanny Price.

We don’t get a lot of this perspective around these parts; being primarily female and straight, the Austen community in general tends to spend way more time on what’s underneath Darcy’s breeches than what might be going on with those boobalicious Regency gowns.

McInerney goes on to claim some degree of depth in his Austen attachments—he really does love them for their minds, he says, both as characters and as representations of Jane herself. But what if he didn’t? What if this guy fixated—with an unusual sense of publicity and and odd sort of camaraderie—on the rain-drenched Marianne Dashwood, or on Jane Bennet’s mid-storm arrival at Netherfield? What if he sat around writing fan fiction about Lydia and either Wickham or, because it’s fanfic and he can, Mr. Collins or Charlotte Lucas or (crossover alert!) Hermione Granger or Sirius Black? Or all of the above? Would we react to him differently, and to his way of experiencing the Austen universe? How would we approach him as a man and as an admirer and/or objectifier of the women of Austen?

Readers, what do you think? (And while we’re at it, who’s your biggest Austen crush—of either gender?)

Jane Austen’s Kissing Booth: A Poll

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

Where everybody knows your name?

You, too, can meet the man of your dreams. Online. In a Jane Austen Forum. Don't laugh.

We at Austenacious don’t know about you, but we sometimes say to ourselves, “Selves,”—that’s what we go by around Austenacious HQ—”Selves, we do not exist in enough places online.”

(Note: This is a lie. Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Miss Osborne are, I suspect, currently choking on their tea at the enormity of this lie. Apologies, ladies!)

We do, however, occasionally crave some good Janely discussion, right here! and right now!—life can’t be one long Masterpiece liveblogging party (I’m told), no matter how hard we try. I suspect we’re not totally alone with, say, the urge to discuss whether or not Jonny Lee Miller’s Muppet nose improves or detracts from his performance as Mr. Knightley. (Answer: Improves, and I’ll hear no more about it.) Should this be the case, you might check out the forums sponsored by the Jane Austen Centre in Bath, England—they’re an existing community, but the more is apparently the merrier. They’ve specifically welcomed the Austenacious readership, which we thought was kind of them.

In any case, whatever you’re itching to talk about, you’ll find it in the forums: Jane’s works, Jane’s characters, Jane’s characters, adaptations, sequels, relevant actors (for all your sudden-onset OMGFIRTH!!1! needs), and a good old-fashioned “Jane Austen catch-all” thread, for good measure and to make all possible content technically “on topic.”

So if you’d rather be sitting at a table somewhere with a nice sharp pen, a quiet moment, and a beloved sister to address—well, this isn’t exactly that, but surely a nice…key-ey keyboard, a quiet moment, and some good Janeite company is the next best thing?

Liveblogging Emma: The Grand Finale

And cue two young women in front of a TV. (Miss Osborne would have joined them had her health permitted it.) Due to technical difficulties (curse you, Comcast!), Miss Ball and Mrs. Fitzpatrick arrive on the scene ten minutes in. Please supply your own witty dialog for that period.

[Jane Fairfax leaves Donwell secretly.]

Miss Ball: I think Emma’s been running around Salzberg in nothing but some old drapes . . . from 1988. That dress is appalling.

[Mr. Knightley says that Emma might be mistress of Donwell, ha ha ha.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Hint, hint.

[Emma rants about Miss Bates.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: A bit of foreshadowing, is it?

Miss Ball: For the awkwardness that is to come. Sure.

[Mr. Knightley makes a rude comment about Frank Churchill, but it falls flat.]

Miss Ball: I love how Switzerland is the ends of the earth, instead of . . . the middle of Europe. I feel like, instead, he should backpack through Nepal with like six sherpas (because it’s not like he’s going to carry his own stuff) and listen to a lot of Dave Matthews Band.

Miss Ball: I know beer and cold meats do wonders for my constitution. Especially . . . together?

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Michael Gambon as Mr. Woodhouse just isn’t right. He doesn’t strike the sort of kindly silliness of Mr. Woodhouse.

Miss Osborne, there in spirit: The real Mr. Woodhouse wouldn’t have pterodactyl arms.

[A green blob—continued technical difficulties, we hope—appears on Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s TV just as the party arrives at Boxhill.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: It’s THE BLOB!! From original Star Trek! It’s going to EAT THEM!!

[Frank Churchill inadvertently and singlehandedly chases the entire party away (therefore saving them from a green and blobby death, v. difficult to explain to the pre-NASA set).]

Miss Ball: Frank Churchill, Captain of Awkward Conversation.

[Mr. Knightley yells at Emma.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: He just seems like a blustering schoolboy to me. No dignity. No style!

Miss Ball: I think he sounds like he’s yelling at a pet. Like she’s been scratching on the couch again.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: FAIL, Jonny Lee. FAIL.

[Emma converts to thoughtfulness and grace.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Look, she’s stepping into the light! I can’t stand it!

[Emma goes to the Bates’s.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: I swear Mrs. Bates is a zombie.

Miss Ball: I believe you could write a book about that and make some serious money.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: That is SO five minutes ago, Miss Ball!

[Mr. Knightley thinks about kissing Emma’s hand, but doesn’t. Miss Ball thinks he was shaking it.]

Miss Ball: The 2005 P&P did that so much better.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: They didn’t do that very well. Especially since you didn’t even get it!

Both: Clearly, we have moved past the time when a man taking a woman’s hand = HE’S GOING TO KISS HER HAND!!! [spontaneous flaily jazz-hands duet]

[Emma wants to reupholster Mr. Knightley’s chair (or whatever the kids are calling it these days).]

Miss Ball: …with angels and unicorns, perhaps?

[Mrs. Churchill dies; everybody pretends to be sad while actually forming an emotional conga line.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: That was actually pretty well done—that pretty much sums it up.

[Baby Frank Churchill rides away in his carriage in the past. Again.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Flashback attack!

[Frank and Jane Fairfax are reunited.]

Miss Ball: I’m sort of disappointed in Jane now. He’s such a douchebag. You can do better, Jane Fairfax! (Governess-hood notwithstanding.)

Frank Churchill: Now for the first time in our lives we can do anything we want!

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: That isn’t a Regency thought in the least—or at least not a Jane Austen thought.

Miss Ball: That’s a relief. Ugh.

[Emma hides behind a shrub, poorly, when Mr. Knightley arrives in the garden.]

Miss Ball: Don’t worry, Emma. . . we’ve all been there.

[Emma and Mr. Knightley walk and chat.]

Miss Ball: Are her long sleeves attached to anything, or are they just. . . sleeves? Because that’s sort of brilliant.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: I actually don’t know. I do know Mrs. Bennet liked them! Kind of a punk look, you think?

Miss Ball: Just add safety pins. I like it.

[Mr. Knightley tries to propose.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: He’s squinting. Why is he squinting?

Miss Ball: No room in those tight pants for his sunglasses.

[Emma bursts into Donwell crying, says she can’t marry Mr. Knightley because of her father, and then bursts out again.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: What is this, a French farce? She’s not Lucille Ball, for goodness’ sake!

Miss Ball: A little abrupt, sure, but I think it’s okay. We’re running out of time.

[Mr. Knightley volunteers to move to Hartfield.]

Miss Ball: Mr. Knightley, you’ll never make it with the ladies if you keep telling them your heart is at your house.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: No, no, he means his heart is with Emma! He’s pointing at her!

Miss Ball: Ah, his heart—her—is at his house. Currently. But not forever. Riiiiight.

[Frank Churchill apologizes to Emma.]

Miss Ball: I do not forgive you, Frank Churchill.

[Mrs. Bates speaks.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: GASP! The zombie speaks!

Miss Bates: Mother has recovered her voice!

[Emma says goodbye to her father pre-honeymoon.]

Miss Ball: That is one yellow dress. Lucky for her she’s a summer.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Wait—they’re going on a honeymoon? So they must be married? These quick cuts are making me dizzy!

Miss Ball: I had the same question. Harriet and Robert Martin get married, and Emma and Mr. Knightley take a honeymoon? That’s some set-up.

[Emma rests her head on Mr. Knightley’s shoulder.]

Miss Ball: That looks really uncomfortable. Much better after the carriage era.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: They must be going to the seaside.

Emma: Oh! It’s the seaside!

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: I’m freakin’ prescient!

fin

Final thoughts:

The Curmudgeonly Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Well, it had its moments. When they just let the actors speak and feel what Jane Austen wrote, it was fine—though really none of the main parts were convincing to me. But the additions were SO cheesy (Slow-motion flashbacks? Children torn asunder in the rain?) and the transitions were SO film-school (Look, there’s flowers now, it must be spring!), that I couldn’t really believe I was in the story. It’s a hard novel to adapt, but . . . they should have tried harder. Or less hard? It was too forced, and too sloppy for this purist.

The Happy-Go-Lucky Miss Ball: I agree with Mrs. F’s assessment of the hilariously melodramatic editing, but in general, I liked the whole product pretty well—it was certainly modern in feel, but not in a way that generally offended my not-very-strict sensibilities. I especially liked Romola Garai: she makes some fabulous faces, and her ability to both play and acknowledge awkward moments served her well in this particular instance. So, they certainly played fast and loose with the text, but I didn’t mind too much. Also, I sort of like Jonny Lee Miller in hero mode. (Less so in scoldish pet-owner mode.)

Miss Osborne: I ended up watching the rest of Emma this morning, and it almost made up for the earlier installments. With the exception of the sun rising over Emma and the unnecessary flashback of Frank Churchill leaving as a child, this installment was more thoughtful. I finally found myself rooting for Emma—for her emotional growth and the love between her and Mr. Knightley. Knightley, of course, is wonderful (though I think Jonny Lee Miller looks like a muppet when he’s not smiling). Unlike Mrs. F, I didn’t find him blustery in the Box Hill scene. He has every right to scold Emma, and I felt her pain. Hasn’t everyone been scolded at one point or another for doing something they knew was stupid? It hurts when someone you love is rightfully giving you the smack down. Overall, this mini-series was uneven, but the last hour was enjoyable.

Liveblogging Emma: Act II

We open on three girls, a couch, and Laura Linney looking oddly solemn.

Last week…

[Frank Churchill proposes a ball]

Miss Osborne: Oh, I do love a ball! (TM Lydia Bennet)

Miss Osborne: Does she not have a ballroom or a dining room in her house?

[Frank sweeps Emma up for an impromptu dance]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: They would not have been doing that.

Miss Ball: “I would much better be married than right”: words to live by?

[Frank acts like he’s going to propose and then doesn’t]

Miss Osborne: Why can’t people tell the truth? This is annoying.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Like you tell the truth all the time?

Miss Osborne: Well, he’s acting like he loves her.

Miss Osborne: And he has a man-ring.

[Harriet bawls her eyes out]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Harriet’s such a modern teenage girl. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have the internet or TV to distract her with a massive gallery of males.

[Mrs. Elton arrives]

Miss Osborne: Ohhhhh, it’s THAT girl. She plays the bitch in everything!

Miss Ball: Like?

Miss Osborne: Like What a Girl Wants, which I only saw because of Colin Firth. And, um, Amanda Bynes.

Miss Ball: No, I saw that, too! With the leather pants! Amanda Bynes is my hero(ine), and I don’t care who knows it.

[Mr. Knightley brought Emma a library book]

Miss Osborne: It’s Twilight.

[Misses Osborne and Ball and Mrs.Fitzpatrick pause to discuss crooked ears, including but not limited to Stephen Colbert and Victor Garber. Mrs. Fitzpatrick has perfect, delicate ears. She’s the only one.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: I think I’ll start calling Mr. Fitzpatrick “Mr. F”, like Mrs. Elton does.

Miss Ball: Like he’s a substitute teacher with a difficult name?

[Misses Osborne and Ball and Mrs.Fitzpatrick pause to discuss the technical term for Emma’s face-framing curls, which Mrs. Fitzpatrick calls “scare curls” but thinks she made that up. Google tells us this.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Now, this is weird, because in the book, Mrs. Elton suggests the whole Box Hill expedition, and Emma doesn’t seem particularly sad about being stuck in Highbury.

Miss Ball: It’s a modern take on the situation, certainly.

[Mrs. Elton has quite a horror of finery.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Too matchy-matchy?

Miss Ball: Bridesmaid quality, definitely.

Miss Osborne: The voice-over is worse than Superman.

Miss Ball: I do miss the choreographed group dancing.

[Frank disses Mrs. Elton’s hairstyle]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: He is a little…dickish.

Miss Ball: Catty.

Miss Osborne: A douchebag.

[Mr. Knightley asks Harriet to dance]

Miss Ball: Mr. Knightley! You’re the dreamiest man the world right now! Such a mensch!

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Isn’t he?

Miss Osborne: I like the idea of wearing gloves. That way you don’t get sweaty hands.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Plus, it’s more sexy.

[Dancing ensues]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: I think they’re doing the Congress of Vienna waltz.

Miss Osborne: I can do the polka!

Miss Ball: Me, too!

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: I wonder how authentic the dancing in this really is?

Miss Ball: We’re totally ruining the mood of this very romantic dance.

[Harriet gushes about Frank’s rescue of her from the scary scary gypsies]

Miss Osborne: Harriet’s so pale, she could be a vampire.

Miss Ball: Don’t say that out loud.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: There’s already going to be Emma and werewolves.

Miss Osborne: Um, did she just faint?

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: I think Jane had a thing against fainting—it never really works out in her books.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: If this were a murder mystery, Harriet would be shot dead now.

[The camera cuts, inexplicably, behind Mr. Knightley’s coat as he reminisces about Emma’s hotness]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: SIGH.

[Mr. Knightley walks away from Emma and the too-hot fire]

Mrs. F: Well, I definitely liked this chapter better—now that she’s not so incredibly bouncy.

Miss Ball: And now that the story’s picking up, minus Exposition City.

Miss Osborne: Augh, when he yells at her, he’s so right, and it’s so horrible, because we’ve all been yelled at by somebody we care at like that. So terrible.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: And they’re…following the book. Such a concept!

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: It’s weird how little Mr. Woodhouse is in this version. Usually, he’s in the background of everything.

Miss Osborne: Maybe Michael Gambon’s pterodactyl arms wouldn’t fit in the picture.

Aaaaaaand, scene.

Liveblogging Emma: A Play in One Act

The Austenacious sisters are too old-school (so far) to be on Twitter, so we decided to have our own live new-Emma-watching/blogging party. And the opening credits roll . . .

Miss Ball: This is all very Pushing Daisies, isn’t it? There goes Mom.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Frank and Jane’s sending-away is so much more emotional than it is in the book.

[Everyone grows up. Quickly. Thank goodness, all this exposition is getting boring.]

Miss Osborne: Who does Emma look like to you guys?

Miss Osborne: Did they really wear big bows on their backs? (Consensus: Not sure.)

Miss Osborne: No cake for the wedding? Well, that’s just crazy. Turn it off! I’m done.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: The thing about Michael Gambon is, it’s hard to believe he can be as stupid as Mr. Woodhouse after being Dumbledore.

All: Boo hoo! Loneliness and tinkly pianos! SLO-MO CHILDREN! Too cheesy!

Miss Osborne: Romola Garai’s not as stately or graceful as I expected Emma to be.

[Emma visits Mrs. Goddard’s school.]

Miss Ball: Gypsies! Ooh, foreshadowing!

Miss Ball: That hat’s like a bell. How is it staying on her head?

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: What? A scene from the book? And only twenty-five minutes in!

Miss Osborne: I’ve got it! Drew Barrymore meets Starbuck!

Miss Ball: It’s the mouth.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Who? Oh, Romola. But what about Harriet Smith? She reminds me of someone.

Miss Osborne: She was in something called Lesbian Vampire Killers!

Miss Osborne: Mr. Martin’s got mutton chops to rival Mr. Darcy’s!

Miss Osborne: Gotta love a field trip to see the poor.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Well, they’re making much more of deal about it than in the book.

Miss Osborne: I realize that the refusal of Mr. Martin is straight from the book, but it makes me want to barf.

[Painting on the lawn.]

Miss Ball: Oh, Jane. You and your crazy dads.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Oh! Harriet Smith reminds me of the chick from Doctor Horrible.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: I can see Emma’s roots. I can see! Her roots!

Miss Osborne: Check out Elton. Boyfriend’s a close-talker. Three feet, dude.

Mr. Knightley: Robert Martin! Is that you?

Miss Osborne: . . . nobody here by that name . . .

[Emma and Mr. Knightley fight.]

Miss Ball: I like Emma’s yellow wallpaper. Just not in the Charlotte Perkins Gilman sense.

Miss Osborne: Jonny Lee Miller just made a Muppet face.

Miss Osborne: Well, I think Emma’s right. So many men do want pretty and ditzy. So why shouldn’t everyone fall for Harriet Smith.

Miss Ball: I just want to watch him make more faces.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: She makes the same argument in the book.

Miss Ball: I like Romola Garai.

[Emma and Harriet manage two pages of reading.]

Miss Ball: Two pages of Milton? I think she deserves a cookie.

[Emma explains her life plans to Harriet.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Well, Emma’s ideal situation is Jane Austen’s situation: a well-to-do old maid with nieces.

Miss Osborne: I take umbrage at the “old maid” label. She died at forty-one!

Miss Osborne: I don’t even really understand why Emma’s friends with Harriet. She’s dumb!

Miss Ball: Haven’t you seen Clueless? She wants to better Harriet.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: It would be like living your whole life with the people you went to elementary school with. Not much of a choice, right?

[Dinner party at the Westons]

Miss Osborne: Michael Gambon has the biggest basketball-player arms in all of movies, and he’s always flailing them around like a pterodactyl.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Mrs. Weston has a maid now. She should have better hair. And stop looking defeated. Because she isn’t.

[Elton proposes.]

Miss Ball: I sort of love Elton. I totally know that guy.

Miss Osborne: Wow, that CGI snow is terrible. It’s like a bad screen saver.

Miss Ball: Flying toasters.

Miss Osborne: Why is Elton so sweaty? It’s SNOWING.

[The Great Miss Fairfax Live and In Person!]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Hmmm. They changed Jane Fairfax almost getting thrown overboard from a boat to Jane Fairfax almost . . . slipping on a rock? Must have been too expensive.

[Emma and Harriet meet Frank on the road.]

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Apart from that not being the way Emma and Frank meet, it’s just. . . all wrong. She’s so flirty with him!

[Emma and Frank meet officially.]

Miss Osborne: Dude is short!

Miss Ball: And not much of a looker. Which Frank Churchill should be, right? (Consensus.)

[And . . . the episode sort of peters out. Not much dramatic closure of any type.]

Miss Ball: 3 out of 5 start

Miss Osborne: Meh

Mrs. Fitzpatrick: Can we watch figure skating now?

Overall, it’s not great, but not bad. The scene changes are achingly obvious, and they do love to make a point, then drive it home, in case you didn’t get it the first time. Kind of an Emma for Dummies. Romola’s giving Emma a good go: we couldn’t agree on whether she was acting smart enough, but do think she should be more refined. More conclusions pending the next episode(s). Readers, your gut reactions?

PSA: Emma on PBS!

Time for a Very Special Announcement from Austenacious: the newest BBC Austen adaptation, 2009’s Emma, starts its American run this Sunday, January 24, on PBS.

To the ethically minded and/or BBC-less among us—i.e., those who neither got the chance to watch this new adaptation legally nor seized the chance to watch it illegally—let this be a reminder! Sundays, PBS, 9 p.m. Be there.

For those without such geographical or moral barriers—so, those who have already seen it—we have here the San Francisco Chronicle’s review, which seems more positive than most, or at least more positive than many. Critic David Wiegand claims that this Emma is good because it’s subtle: he compares it to the Paltrow version, with Alan Cumming bouncing off the walls and spitting the scenery out afterwards, and compliments this new adaptation on characters acting like…oh, right: actual people. Interestingly, Wiegand mostly addresses the supporting characters, and then skirts around the perpetual dilemma of Emma herself—that is, her inherent, if well-meant, obnoxiousness—by bringing her up and then failing to comment on Romola Garai‘s performance at all. This also begs the question of what makes a successful portrayal of Miss Woodhouse in the first place: how much are we really supposed to like Emma, how much leeway do her portrayers have in the role, and to what degree is Emma’s studied lack of complexity the key to her ultimate appeal?

So, all you torrent heathens (and legitimate Brits), what do you think? Who’s the best Emma of them all, is Jonny Lee Miller have Knightley’s dreamy-yet-stern thing down, and is this adaptation simply finely shaded, or is “subtle” a grand euphemism for “dead boring”?

Just remember, kids: Knowing is half the battle.

Our Miss Woodhouse

Last night was the second episode of BBC 1’s new version of Emma. Reviews have been mixed. As Allison Pearson at the Daily Mail noted, the producers have been patting themselves on the back for taking the stuffiness out of Jane Austen’s characters and relationships to make them more palatable for a modern audience. (Whatever!) Apparently Romola Garai talks like a flapper and Jonny Lee Miller just isn’t man enough for the job of Mr. Knightley. So at least we Americans can rest easy being spared all this. (Ha! As if we wouldn’t love to pass judgment on our own viewing!)

You know, though, Emma is kind of stuffy. She’s an interfering know-it-all who, as Jane Austen famously remarked, “no one will much like but myself.” And a lot of people don’t—Austenacious’s own Miss Osborne, for a start. And people get vicious about her, just vicious, like John Preston at the Telegraph: “You will want to kick her downstairs.”  I identify with Emma. Sure, her life may be easy in a lot of ways, but she gets stuff wrong. All the time. In her, I hear myself giving friends advice on who did and who didn’t love them—and what the hell did I know about it? Some readers just can’t seem to forgive her for trying to improve Harriet Smith’s life, but you never hear a peep out of them about Mr. Darcy doing the same thing to Mr. Bingley and Jane. (Is this because we don’t see Bingley’s grief, or even Jane’s grief, as plainly as Harriet’s?) Why isn’t he branded an interfering know-it-all too?

Emma’s not your typical heroine—that’s Jane Fairfax, the lovely orphan destined for governesshood who miraculously marries a wealthy and devoted man. Emma gets to watch her heroinizing all over the place from the sidelines, and she’s human enough to admit she can’t stand her, for reasons that sound petty when written 200 years ago, but authentic when you think about people you don’t like.

And her little flirtation with Frank Churchill? Oh lord, let’s not even go there! I’m sure we’ve all had that experience in one form or another.

Emma’s a poor little rich girl, who has everything she wants, and never gets anything about anybody right. Maybe that’s why lots of people hate her, but we interfering know-it-alls, the ones who make snide, witty cracks without thinking and are deeply sorry afterward, who sometimes don’t say what we mean or mean what we say, but wish we could do both, and who, most of all, wish we had a clue about what was going on around us, we love our Miss Woodhouse. She is good peoples.

Fine, BBC. BE THAT WAY.

The Brits have all the luck. After all, they’ve got trashier tabloids, superior pubs, health care for all, and Daniel Craig.

And now, they’ve got a brand-new, proprietary Emma.

Starting tonight on BBC One, the lucky Brits get the new, four-part version of Emma, starring Romola Garai (star of the epic Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights and also some ho-hum bit of Oscar-nominated nonsense called, I believe, Atonement) and Jonny Lee Miller (former Angelina Jolie husband; also, lately, star of ABC’s much-missed Eli Stone). The BBC hasn’t adapted Emma since 1972, though Hollywood’s given it some play via the 1996 Gwyneth Paltrow version, as well as the postmodern take-off Clueless.

So, English people, enjoy! Settle in with some good tea, some Cadbury chocolate, and anything else that the rest of us long for in vain, and watch some world-class meddling (followed by the finding of true love, of course). We’ll just be over here, watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey and pouting into our egregiously oversized portions of fast food.