4 stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang
I wonder if late 18th century
aristocrats actually were so unswervingly polite with each other, or whether
that’s an affectation we’ve grown to expect from Jane Austen stories.
Whatever the actual truth,
dramatic adaptations of Austen’s tales always are a treat, in great part
because of the diabolically deceptive manner in which characters cut each other
dead, with such cleverly scathing turns of phrase ... always delivered quietly,
with a disarming smile that leaves the victim in stunned silence.
Director/scripter Whit Stillman’s
Love & Friendship has many such
delectable moments, with plenty of tart dialog exchanged between the various
good-hearted characters who do their best to survive encounters with the
predatory schemer in their midst. The film is based on a lesser-known Austen
work: the epistolary novella Lady Susan,
likely written in the 1790s, before any of her published longer works, and then
withheld. It remained unseen for half a century after her death, until a nephew
published it in 1871.
Aside from its relative brevity, Lady Susan differs from Austen’s
“classic” works — most notably Sense and
Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice,
and Emma — in that its “heroine” is
neither honorable nor admirable. Lady Susan Vernon is selfish, conniving and
utterly ruthless, caring not a whit for the bruised or shattered feelings of
those left in her wake.
In short, she’s a monster.
And yet, as played here to saucy,
unapologetically haughty perfection by Kate Beckinsale, she’s utterly
irresistible.
From a safe distance.
The saga begins as the recently
widowed Lady Susan flees a scandal, choosing to “hide out” at Churchill, the
estate of her in-laws, Charles Vernon (Justin Edwards) and his wife, Catherine
DeCourcy Vernon (Emma Greenwell). Charles is magnanimous, by nature believing
the best in everybody; Catherine is wary, recalling how her marriage was so
vociferously opposed by Lady Susan.
Still, Lady Susan now appears chastened
and friendly; Catherine cautiously hopes for the best.
She should have gone with her
first instinct.
The situation initially improves
with the arrival of Lady Susan’s daughter, Frederica (Morfydd Clark), a
charming and honorable young woman who, it would seem, has been expelled from
her finishing school (possibly because Lady Susan keeps neglecting to pay the
tuition).
Also to Frederica’s credit: She
fears her mother, and wishes no part of her plans ... particularly Lady Susan’s
insistence that her daughter should marry the eligible and quite wealthy Sir
James Martin (Tom Bennett). Frederica has ample cause for concern; aside from
being quite a bit older — much more Lady Susan’s peer — the giddily cheerful
Sir James is exceptionally silly and ill-informed.
As introduced by Stillman in this
film’s cleverly depicted “cast of characters,” Sir James is described as “a bit
of a rattle.” Bennett’s performance is hilarious: Sir James’ non-sequiturs and
random musings are conversation-stoppers that leave everybody blinking in
disbelief. He’s the epitome of the aristocratic British fop, having been raised
in an environment that has rendered him utterly useless. (Some of Bertie
Wooster’s old school chums come to mind.)
But Sir James hasn’t an unkind
bone in his body, and — his inane behavior notwithstanding — his affections,
when granted, are steadfast and true.
All of which should make him the
perfect match for Lady Susan, who’d be able to manipulate him to her heart’s
content. But her eye is taken instead by Catherine’s handsome brother, Reginald
(Xavier Samuel). Although initially mistrustful of Lady Susan because of the
notorious reputation that has preceded her, the callow Reginald is no match for
her manipulative talents.
In a heartbeat, Lady Susan and
Reginald are affianced, much to the horror of Catherine and their parents, Sir
Reginald (James Fleet) and Lady DeCourcy (Jemma Redgrave), both of whom know precisely what sort of person Lady Susan
is.
So does the “very respectable”
Mr. Johnson (Stephen Fry), who possesses more than passing awareness of what
led to Lady Susan’s abrupt departure from her previous “extended visit.”
Unfortunately, Mr. Johnson’s wife, the ex-pat American Alicia (Chloë Sevigny),
is Lady Susan’s best friend and confidante ... and every inch as spitefully
cruel.
Indeed, eavesdropping on Alicia
and Lady Susan — the former delighting in the latter’s Machiavellian plots — is
both droll and breathtaking. Both women are so
outrageously cynical and spiteful ... and yet their scabrous behavior, and
cutting bon mots, are delicious. It’s
hard not to admire such adroit proficiency, particularly when Stillman scripts
such choice dialog, and Beckinsale delivers it so deftly.
Samuel unerringly navigates the
complexities of Reginald’s character: He must be intelligent and kind, while
also naïve and malleable ... but not too
malleable, lest we lose respect for him. It’s a delicate balancing act, which
Samuel pulls off quite well.
Clark is appropriately timid as
Frederica, while also displaying just enough spunk to stand up for herself (if
only when her mother isn’t around). Edwards is a rock of geniality as Charles,
and Jenn Murray plays a significant third-act role as the shrill, hysterical
Lady Lucy Manwaring.
Devotees of Downton Abbey will appreciate Stillman’s brief but often telling
attention to sidebar butlers, maids and footmen.
Eimer Ni Mhaoldomhnaigh’s
costumes are colorful, sumptuous and statements in their own right,
particularly the variations on Lady Susan’s “widow’s black,” which don’t
entirely strike us as mourning attire. Mhaoldomhnaigh certainly is familiar
with the period, having also provided the opulent clothing for 2007’s Becoming Jane.
The shoot actually took place in
and around Dublin, with cinematographer Richard Van Oosterhout making the
verdant countryside — and opulent palatial interiors — seem to sparkle.
Its engaging cast and scripted
joys notwithstanding, Stillman’s film suffers from an unexpectedly abrupt — and
somewhat unsatisfying — conclusion. It’s a bit short, at 92 minutes; given the
early attention to detail and methodical development of romantic suspense,
Stillman wraps things up in a hasty flurry. And while he obviously was obliged
to follow Austen’s narrative template, fans of poetic justice may feel cheated.
That said, the journey is
thoroughly enjoyable, even if the destination is a bit of a letdown. Gaining
access to a “new” Austen story is special all by itself; having it adapted with
such droll and charming wit is the cherry on top.
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