Jane Austen, like Dickens and Shakespeare, never gets old.
Director Autumn de Wilde’s lavish adaptation of Emma was one of the early COVID casualties, initially scheduled for theatrical release in late February. The loss of that traditional debut is unfortunate, since the sumptuous efforts of cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt, production designer Kave Quinn and costume designer Alexandra Byrne screamed for a big-screen showcase.
The film’s arrival on HBO is nonetheless welcome, and Eleanor Catton’s faithfully droll screenplay works just as well on a home screen. But there’s no question the lavish estate settings would have been even more stunning in a darkened movie theater.
The unworldly Harriet (Mia Goth, left) hangs — like a worshipful puppy — on every
morsel of guidance supplied by Emma (Anya Taylor-Joy). Alas, as we're destined to
learn, Emma isn't worthy of such trust.
We’ve not had a straight American adaptation since the 1996 version with Gwyneth Paltrow in the lead role — and a nod to 1995’s Clueless, as a loose modern translation — so it’s definitely well past time to spend a few hours with Emma Woodhouse and her various friends, family and suitors.
Be advised: You may want to take notes, as quite a lot of characters are involved in this light-hearted period dramedy.
Anya Taylor-Joy is perfectly cast as the aristocratic Emma, not quite 21 years old, whose self-assurance is matched only by her determination to gift everybody with the benefit of her wisdom. Although culturally polished and well-intentioned, her inherent kindness often is overshadowed by a relentless tendency to meddle.
Indeed, her older sister’s brother-in-law, Mr. Knightley (Johnny Flynn, technically too young for the role), likely would call Emma insufferably arrogant … but he’s too polite and refined to do so. Instead, they bicker and banter in a manner that allows maximum exposure to Austen’s piquant and slightly snarky dialogue. (She was so far ahead of her time.)
As the story begins, Emma’s longtime friend and former governess, Miss Taylor (Gemma Whelan), has just “married well,” and become wife to the aristocratic Mr. Weston (Rupert Graves). Having initially introduced them to each other, Emma takes credit for this successful union, and — after returning home, to the family estate at Hartfield — decides that she’s a born matchmaker.
Her next “project”: new friend Harriet Smith (Mia Goth), a 17-year-old pupil at a nearby girl’s boarding school. (When she and her fellow students parade about in their scarlet coats — which occurs numerous times, as this film proceeds — one can’t help thinking of Ludwig Bemelmans’ Madeline, with its “…twelve little girls in two straight lines.”)
Poor Harriet is as naïve, timid and credulous as Emma is cultured, refined and forthright; the younger girl therefore latches onto her new friend as a combination of tutor and all-knowing guardian, a role Emma happily embraces. Goth’s wide-eyed trust is heartbreaking, as Harriet hangs onto every syllable of Emma’s “advice.”
Mr. Knightley, sensing trouble ahead, tries his best to dissuade Emma from abusing her position (Flynn excels at eye-rolling exasperation, most often later, in private). Emma, naturally, bats his concerns aside with a flutter of Taylor-Joy’s eyelashes; who is he, to question the guidance of a knowledgeable matchmaker?
Wearing that hat, Emma cautions Harriet to reject a marriage proposal from Robert Martin (Connor Swindells), the soft-spoken and respectable young farmer she has long worshipped. Far better, Emma insists, to look in the direction of the local vicar, Mr. Elton (Josh O’Connor, recently seen as Prince Charles, in The Crown).
Mr. Knightley, quite appalled, insists that Harriet could not do better than Robert Martin, who is genuinely fond of her, whereas the often inebriated Mr. Elton is (gasp!) a social climber. Emma takes no notice.
And we’re off to the races…
Longtime fans know — and even first-timers will find blindingly obvious — the fact that Emma and Mr. Knightley are as preordained a couple as Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, from Pride and Prejudice. But the delight of any Austen novel is the torturous path undertaken by young people in the throes of love (actual or imagined).
As with any good soap opera, the story would cease to exist if these characters simply were honest with each other, but such candor wasn’t high on the list of early 19th century social conventions, particularly among the aristocracy (which Austen well knew).
The character tapestry is augmented by Emma’s father, Mr. Woodhouse, played to stiff-lipped perfection by Bill Nighy. He comes close to stealing every scene he’s in, even when he says absolutely nothing … actually, most often because he says absolutely nothing. Nighy’s sidelong expressions are to die for; one gets the impression that Mr. Woodhouse could be quite a card, but regards all larkish behavior as unbefitting his station.
He and a pair of young Hartfield footmen (Angus Imrie and Aidan White) have great fun with a running gag involving chilly drafts and fireplace screens, given Mr. Woodhouse’s tendencies toward hypochondria. The footmen literally never speak, but their body language and stoic expressions are quite amusing.
The garrulous Miss Bates (Miranda Hart), far larger than life, is a frequent fixture at Hartfield, given that her mother and Emma’s father are longtime friends. (Hart will be remembered as Chummy Noakes, during several season’s of TV’s Call the Midwife.) Miss Bates has graciously accepted her lot as a spinster; like so many others, she also admires and adores Emma.
The latter, alas, has no use for Miss Bates’ relentlessly repetitive and inane conversation, particularly when it concerns her niece, Jane Fairfax (Amber Anderson). And, refinement notwithstanding, Emma lacks the patience to be polite about her disinterest … which, if Miss Bates notices, she ignores.
Ah, yes: Jane Fairfax, frequently mentioned but nowhere to be seen … as also is the case with Frank Churchill (Callum Turner), Mr. Weston’s son by his first marriage. Emma is vexed by the repeated references to Jane, but increasingly curious about the similarly mysterious Frank. Both characters finally pop up in the third act, to sow further confusion and discontent.
Much of the action takes place at Hartfield, which Quinn and set decorator Stella Fox dress to perfection. (Shooting occurred at Firle Place, an East Sussex Tudor manor that dates back to the 15th century.) The story includes an obligatory formal ball, which allows Byrne to go absolutely wild with the lavish period clothing.
Indeed, Byrne pays particular attention to Emma’s eye-catching hats and bonnets, some of which look absolutely absurd to the modern eye, yet are typical of the period fashion (as are the equally elaborate coiffures, courtesy of hair and make-up designer Marese Langan).
The score, by David Schweitzer and Isobel Waller-Bridge, is more ambitious than most: a captivating blend of musical whimsy that includes classical selections (Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn), Italian operas (symbolizing Emma’s vanity), traditional folk songs, and conventional underscore. Sharp-eared listeners will note that the primary characters have their own instrumental “voice”: harp (Emma), French horn (Mr. Knightley), folk violin (Harriet) and bassoon (Mr. Elton). Fluttering flutes signal fresh romantic entanglements.
The entire film actually unfolds like the playfully choreographed dances at the aforementioned ball. It takes a bit to get into the spirit of de Wilde’s stylized tone and atmosphere, but succumbing to this film’s spell is inevitable. You can’t help falling in love with all these people who fall in (and out) of love.
Austen still rules.
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