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

“There is nothing ironic about Jane Austen!”

With the return of Glee to the weekly TV schedule—finally—I think we’ve all been reminded of a new truth universally acknowledged: everything would be better, Austen novels included, if everybody had at least the option of bursting into a well-chosen pop song from time to time. You know, revealing their places in the collective consciousness, choreography optional (but encouraged). Lizzy belts out a girl-power ballad—ill practiced, of course—at the height of her emotional turmoil? Knightley takes the edge off with a few bars of air guitar and a phantom drum solo? I’m telling you: Jane Austen might roll in her grave, but Jane Lynch would make a fine Lady Catherine.

Am I right?

Here are a few Austen characters and their likely anthems:

Captain Wentworth: “I’m on a Boat” – The Lonely Island

Anne Elliot: “I Will Always Love You“* – Dolly Parton

*The original version with the sad monologue in the middle, because that speech is exactly the gracious and heartbroken speech Anne would make to Wentworth—complete with poignant pauses every few words—and nobody can convince me otherwise.

Mr. Bingley: “Mr. Brightside” – The Killers

Mr. Collins: “Hell No” – Sondre Lerche & Regina Spektor

Charlotte Lucas: “The Sound of Settling” – Death Cab for Cutie

Mary Bennet: “If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out” – Cat Stevens

Catherine Morland: “Miss Teen Wordpower” – The New Pornographers

Isabella Thorpe: “We Used to Be Friends” – The Dandy Warhols

Marianne Dashwood: “I Feel It All” – Feist

John Willoughby: “It’s Raining Men” – The Weather Girls

Readers, who are we missing?

Jane Austen Fight Club: Capt. Wentworth vs. Mr. Knightley

Come one, come all, to the Jane Austen Fight Club, where the very best from Jane’s world and the very best from the non-Austen world (sometimes) match wits and fists for all to see! The prizes: pride, honor, and the adoration of Jane fans everywhere, or a “The first rule of fight club is, we don’t talk about Mr. Darcy” t-shirt and some quality Regency-era medical care for all your combat-induced wound-care needs!

Today’s contestants:

Captain Frederick “I’m on a boat” Wentworth, naval hero and longtime piner after one Anne Elliot, and Mr. George “Yes, I am awesome, why do you ask?” Knightley! Both do right by their respective lady loves; both live somewhat in the shadow of Fitzwilliam Darcy; only one will walk away from this match with his face and his reputation intact!

In their corners:

Captain Wentworth is, well, on a boat. Actually, he’s in charge of the boat. He probably has a sword, possibly a gun, and for all we know, he’s thick as thieves with some tentacled beast/kraken/JAWS that he calls up from the deep in moments of stress. He’s also fiercely loyal, extraordinarily patient, and—we have it on good authority—the kind of guy who turns heads but doesn’t really own a mirror, if you know what we mean. Basically, he’s a kindly, romantic pirate. Best of all possible worlds!

Mr. Knightley likes moonlit strolls on warm evenings, doesn’t mind going out of his way to see his lady love, and has a fine air and—ahem—way of walking. He’s honest, affectionate, and filled with integrity, and he handles his slightly overbearing future father-in-law without breaking a sweat. He’s the kind of guy you’d want on your arm at all those neighborhood balls, for sure.

Handicaps:

Wentworth is, well, actually sort of a pirate. A legalized pirate, but a pirate. And if the Jack Sparrow lifestyle doesn’t read as a deterrent, exactly, try this: he was too proud to come back to Anne well beyond the Charlotte York “half as long as the relationship” rule, and then he “admitted the attentions of two young ladies at once”! Just imagine!

Knightley is rather disposed to being right. Constantly, obnoxiously right. Sigh.

Decision:

Captain Wentworth in a close but ultimately not-that-close competition. Knightley’s a contender, but seriously? VIRTUOUS PIRATE! Adventurer/keeper of flame wins every time! Nice try, George. Why don’t you, like, go take a walk or something?

Jane Austen Snowboard Cross

Welcome to the seventh night of the Jane Austen Winter Olympics. These Games have already seen some tremendous moments. Who could forget the Short Track Speed Ice Contradancing, with Mr. Elton cutting off Miss Smith in the semifinals, and Mr. Knightley dramatic rescue bringing them both into the finals, before his triumphant gold-medal skate with Miss Woodhouse? Or Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s death-defying tricks and precise execution bringing home the gold in Women’s Conversational Half-Pipe? But I think it’s fair to say that NO event at these Games has received as much as attention as the Mothers’ Snowboard Cross. Four strong contenders on a course that’s already claimed a lot of matchmakers. Here’s Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Dick Button with the call. Mrs. Fitzpatick?

Thanks, Bob. Yes, we do have a very strong field in these finals. In the red jersey you see Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park. She’s a strong competitor, known for letting her temper get the better of her. Look for her to take the early lead in this race. Next to her in the blue jersey is Mrs. Bennet of Longbourne. I think it’s fair to say she wants this race as much as anyone here, and has trained so hard for it ever since her daughter Jane turned 15. She may want it too much, though. She just needs to lay down a nice smooth run, and keep her mouth shut. Bit of a tall order for her, eh Dick?

Indeed, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Now a bit of a dark horse here is Lady Lucas of Lucas Lodge in the black jersey. We don’t know much about this competitor, except that she’s bold and may make a sudden move on the turns, so keep an eye out for her. And rounding out the field in the yellow jersey is Mrs. Gardiner of Longbourne. Now correct me if I’m wrong here, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, but isn’t Mrs. Gardiner originally from Gracechurch Street? Yet she’s competing here for Longbourne?

Yes, that’s right, Dick. Mrs. Gardiner’s own daughters are too young for her to compete for them, so she took Longbourne citizenship recently. A bit of luck for the Bennet girls: Mrs. Gardiner is a strong and wily competitor. She runs a very strategic race. And look for her to capitalize on the others’ mistakes. Bob?

Well, there you have it. Four mothers, all racing for the ultimate prize, an Olympic gold medal of a husband. We’ll be back after this.

[COMMERCIAL BREAK: Ralph Lauren, proud maker of all Olympic wear, both practical long sleeves, and wedding clothes. Visa, go anywhere in the world, Frank Churchill!]

And now we’re back with the Mothers’ Snowboard Cross . . . and they’re on-course! This is for the gold!

Mrs. Bennet faltering in the rhythm section right of the bat, Dick, yet she manages to hold on. Will nothing shut that woman up? And . . . yes, Lady Catherine settles into an early lead with a nice line around the first turn. Her daughter’s weak and unattractive, so she needs to stay out front to avoid any sudden passes by the others. So it’s Lady Catherine in front, followed by Lady Lucas, then Mrs. Gardiner, and Mrs. Bennet bringing up the rear. I think she may have taken herself out of it, Dick!

Longbourne will have to rely on Mrs. Gardiner for now . . . Oh! Sudden burst of speed out of Lady Lucas on that jump—she almost collides with Lady Catherine, but they both stay on the course. And, yes, Mrs. Bennet’s having real trouble in the back—she caught an edge on that turn and went over. It’s all down to Mrs. Gardiner now . . . And, yes, she passes Lady Lucas easily on that turn, nice inside pass there, looks like Lady Lucas lost the pace a bit in her near collision . . . And now the racers can see the bottom of the course! Just a few big jumps and they’re through . . . Lady Catherine still holding her lead. . . OH, and a stunning upset! Lady Catherine flips off Miss Elizabeth in mid-air and misses her landing! Mrs. Gardiner sails in for a smooth gold medal! Here comes Lady Lucas for the silver, and LOOK, HERE COMES MRS. BENNET over the final jump! WHAT an unbelievable comeback!!! Will Lady Catherine get up in time? . . . NO, and it’s a photo finish between Lady Lucas and Mrs. Bennet for the silver! We’ll have to wait for the replay on that. And Lady Catherine is still down—looks like she may really be hurt, we’ll hear from the doctors later, but WHAT an amazing race! So it’s Mrs. Gardiner with the gold, and, yes, she’s choosing Mr. Darcy for Miss Elizabeth, and Mrs. Bennet sneaks past Lady Lucas for the silver . . . looks like she’ll pick up Mr. Bingley for Miss Bennet, no surprise there, and Lady Lucas with the bronze takes Mr. Collins for Miss Lucas. Lady Catherine took herself out of it, so no husband for Miss de Bourgh. Mrs. Fitzpatrick, your final thoughts on the race?

Well, Dick, I’m really impressed with the way Mrs. Bennet recovered from her early mistakes to snag a silver medal for her daughter. And Mrs. Gardiner’s handling of the course was superb overall. It can be so easy to let the other racers push you around, and she really avoided all that. She’s a class act, through and through. Overall an excellent day for the Longbourne family. And I think we’ll see both Longbourne ladies back on the circuit—there are plenty of Bennet daughters to go around! As for Lady Catherine, what can I say? She just did not respect the course and the other racers, and she’s paid for that. We’ll have to wait another four years to see whether Miss de Bourgh will ever get a husband. Bob?

Photo credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/tyleringram/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

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?

Obama: Killer of Romance?

So, apparently we all voted for Mr. Darcy and ended up with, what, Mr. Collins?

First of all…huh? This woman wants to dance with Obama/Darcy instead of a husband? Is this a War on Husbands? Yeah, man. HUSBANDS SUCK.

Second, what’s with people who use the men of Austen as a shorthand for exotic romantic heroes?

As I see it, there are two options here: either people who do this have not read Jane Austen, or they have read Jane Austen and then had their memories wiped by aliens. Take your pick.

It’s not that the Austen men aren’t romantic; they are. I think we can all (mostly) find common ground in the notion that our heroines’ love interests smolder on at least an occasional, private basis. But Jane is nothing if not consistent: nice guys finish first, and guys with wicked notions of sweeping ladies off their feet finish in disgrace (and, in my imagination, duels). Yes, Darcy scours the countryside in the dark of night, looking for Lydia and Wickham, but he does so because he cares for Lizzy, not because he’s into midnight scavenger hunts—and I wouldn’t call him “dashing” so much as “painfully awkward, yet rich.” Captain Wentworth is a sailor, but he’s been pining for nearly a decade and is ultimately just looking for some monogamy. Both Knightley and Henry Tilney like giving advice to the flighty. Colonel Brandon wears—wait for it—a flannel waistcoat! He’s practically Mr. Rogers! So: romantic, yes, but maybe not quite Romantic in the technical sense.

Furthermore, Jane warns us of the dangers of dashing young men to a degree that borders on silly: in each novel, any man who seems like fun from the get-go, is a hit with the ladies (on purpose), or otherwise seems too good to be true, gets pegged as a scoundrel—by Jane and by the reader, if not by the characters in the novel—at a hundred paces. In Jane’s world, sweeping the ladies off their feet (without a very impressive show of loyalty and/or self-sacrifice, at least) isn’t an indicator of hero status; it’s a giant red flag and a cue to go looking for the faithful guy on the sidelines.

Perhaps this is part of Jane’s point: the difference between romance—true romance—and being swept away by a good horseman with an eye for pretty hat ribbons. It doesn’t lend itself well to use in unthinking literary allusions, but then, Jane probably wouldn’t mind that so much.

So where does this leave us? With a grudging understanding that people don’t understand the difference between Fitzwilliam Darcy and Rhett Butler? With a campaign for public education on the actual, and not assumed, characters in Austen’s novels (please send poster ideas to missb at austenacious dot com)? With a call for a national discussion on the nature of romance? Or maybe just a polite request and a library card. I don’t know.

But if anybody starts equating the President to everybody’s favorite cousin/suitor, I’m writing my representative.

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.