I haven’t had this much fun with Charles Dickens, since 1982’s miniseries adaptation of The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby.
Mind you, “fun” isn’t easy to pull off, when it comes to Dickens. He does love to make his protagonists suffer.
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| As a clever means of helping his friend Mr. Dick (Hugh Laurie, right) exorcise the "thoughts of King Charles I" that constantly haunt him, David (Dev Patel) suggests that these snatches be written onto scraps of paper, to then be attached to a large kite, so they can be blown away and "erased" by a strong wind. |
The mere fact that this film cleverly covers so much of Dickens’ dense novel — 877 pages (!), in the Oxford edition — is astonishing all by itself. Granted, this cinematic experience is akin to a 119-minute sprint, but it’s hard to complain when the result is so entertaining.
David Copperfield boasts two of Dickens’ best-known supporting characters: the melodramatic, nobly flustered and penniless Wilkins Micawber, steadfastly retaining his dignity while forever one short step ahead of legions of debt collectors (and based on Dickens’ father); and the smarmy, sneakily loathsome Uriah Heep, one of the most creepily detestable villains ever concocted. They’re brought to glorious life by, respectively, Peter Capaldi and Ben Whishaw.
Acknowledging the joy and phenomenal success that Dickens experienced giving public performances of his works — less staid readings, and more acting tours de force (one of the author’s friends noted that “Dickens was like an entire theater company … under one hat”) — Iannucci opens his film as the adult David Copperfield (Dev Patel) stands on the stage of a theater crowded with fans, holding a stack of pages, and intones one of Dickens’ most famous introductions:
“Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.”
Young David (Ranveer Jaiswal, cute as a button) spends his happy early years without a father, raised more by a doting housekeeper, Clara Peggotty (Daisy May Cooper), than his loving but waiflike mother (Morfydd Clark), who mourns the loss of her husband. Alas, when David is 7, she re-marries the cruel and abusive Edward Murdstone (Darren Boyd, suitably imperious), who beats the boy for falling behind in his studies.
Murdstone is accompanied by his equally nasty spinster sister, Jane (the imposing Gwendoline Christie, well remembered as Brienne of Tarth, in HBO’s Game of Thrones).
By way of protecting the boy, Peggotty brings him to stay with her brother (Paul Whitehouse), who lives in a beached barge with an adopted niece and nephew, Ham and Emily (Anthony Welsh and Aimée Kelly), and a cranky elderly widow, Mrs. Gummidge (Rosaleen Linehan). The barge interior is unexpectedly lavish — one of many imaginatively marvelous settings by production designer Cristina Casali — and David is happy there, as well.
But only briefly. And it’s the last bit of joy David will know, for quite some time.
In short order, thanks to Murdstone, David (now played by the equally engaging Jairaj Varsani) winds up first in a boarding school run by a ruthless headmaster and his parroting toady assistant; and subsequently laboring long hours in a London bottling factory. When consigned to the latter, he lodges with Micawber, his doting wife and their many children.
David reaches maturity during his arduous years in the bottling factory, at which point Patel steps into the role.
Subsequent characters who play a major part in what follows include:
• Betsey Trotwood (Tilda Swinton), David’s eccentric but compassionate great aunt, who has a pathological aversion to donkeys;
• Mr. Dick (Hugh Laurie), a childlike, genial but slightly mad fellow who lives with Betsey, and is haunted by the “troubles” of King Charles I;
• James Steerforth (Aneurin Barnard), a snobbish boy first encountered at the boarding school, and befriended by David, despite numerous warning signs that he’s a bad’un;
• Mr. Wickfield (Benedict Wong), Betsey Trotwood’s lawyer, a cheerful and kind-hearted gentleman, and father of his lovely daughter Agnes (Rosalind Eleazar); and
• Uriah Heep (Whishaw), Wickfield’s ambitious apprentice, whose sycophantic and ’umble behavior initially make him seem harmless, but who eventually proves malevolent on a truly horrific scale.
Not to mention several dozen additional minor characters — such as Uriah’s equally malignant mother (Lynn Hunter) — who also make a strong impression in sometimes very brief appearances.
(I will mention, just in passing, that some small-minded clods have complained about this film’s “historically inaccurate” multi-national casting. Get over it.)
David’s subsequent trials, tribulations and adventures unfold in a rush, like a roller coaster ride. Their episodic nature is somewhat unavoidable, by definition; recall that Dickens initially serialized the novel in 19 monthly installments. Iannucci embraces this giddy, Perils of Pauline-esque atmosphere; indeed, he and editors Mick Audsley and Peter Lambert positively revel in it.
Many of the escapade transitions, one sequence to the next, have a handmade, back-stage-theatrical quality that’s quite enchanting.
Patel anchors all these events with an intoxicating blend of intelligence, charm, integrity and resolute determination; he’s every inch the classic, plucky Dickens hero, in the mold of Oliver Twist, Pip (Great Expectations), Amy Dorrit (Little Dorrit) and Nicholas Nickelby. Patel never quite breaks the fourth wall, to address us viewers directly, but there’s a strong sense that he’d like to: more of Iannucci’s irreverent tone.
Despite the chaotic whirlwind of his life, Patel’s David never succumbs; even under the most dire circumstances, he maintains an essential level of control.
Capaldi and Laurie are a great double act, playing somewhat similar characters in another classic Dickensian mold. Micawber and Mr. Dick are both wildly eccentric, woeful — but never self-pitying — and yet oddly noble gentlemen: everybody’s favorite, slightly dotty uncles. Yet the two actors take distinctive different approaches: Laurie’s Mr. Dick is quiet, gentle and slightly withdrawn, whereas Capaldi is bold, breathless and positively Shakespearean.
Whishaw radiates malevolence. Even early on, Uriah’s simpering smile and ingratiating manner feel contrived. He doesn’t walk; he scuttles. Most frequently dressed in dark colors, Uriah looks like a loathsome, human-sized bug that should be squashed as quickly as possible. It’s not easy to epitomize the feral descriptors Dickens employs on the printed page, but Whishaw gets as close as anybody could.
Casali and set decorator Charlotte Dirickx’s London looks and sounds period-authentic; cinematographer Zac Nicholson makes the lavish homes and neighborhoods glow, just as deftly as he captures the grime and claustrophobia of the poverty-laden back alleys. Suzie Harman and Robert Worley’s costumes are just as accurate; I particularly love the outfits with which Micawber attempts to retain some of his dignity.
Christopher Willis’ mostly symphonic score has an almost uncanny freshness and vibrancy, as if it’s being performed live, while we watch the film. (This feeling hearkens back to the fact that Patel’s David is narrating these events during a “live” stage presentation).
Far too many of today’s overlong and self-indulgent films would benefit from severe trimming. I wanted this one to keep going … which means, as was the case with Dickens’ live readings, Iannucci knew precisely when to exit the stage.
What a pleasure.
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