Three stars. Rated PG-13, and needlessly, for mild sensuality and brief violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.15.15
This has been obvious for
(literally) centuries, but it bears repeating: Thomas Hardy was no Jane Austen.
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| Although Bathsheba (Cary Mulligan) knows that Gabriel (Matthias Schoenaerts) loves her, she's too independent and stubborn to acknowledge that she quite likely feels the same. Sadly, such innocence in matters of the heart is about to make her vulnerable to another potential suitor: one who's far less honorable. |
Although Far from the Madding
Crowd — his fourth novel, and the one that brought him fame — paints a
lovingly descriptive portrait of the rolling, rugged countryside of 19th
century Southwest England, with the inflexible class divide that we’ve come to
expect from the period, Hardy fails utterly in his novel’s most important task:
the creation of a sympathetic protagonist.
Director Thomas Vinterberg and
star Carey Mulligan do their very best, in this newest film adaptation of
Hardy’s novel. In appearance, spirit and resourcefulness, her handling of
Bathsheba Everdene positively sparkles: an effervescent young woman who’d be
the center of attention at any social gathering, warding off the advances of
countless suitors.
Mulligan is adorable. Her radiant
smile is granted additional intensity by a mischievous glint in her eyes, and
her nose crinkles in a particularly endearing way when that smile blossoms into
a delightful grin that hints at the promise of ... something.
But that’s the problem: Bathsheba
is all coy suggestion, with no delivery. Her behavior is to be excused, in Hardy’s
view, by her innocence; the parentless upbringing that fueled her pride and
grit — and most particularly a determination to prove that a woman can go it
alone, despite the era’s disparagement of single women — also left her clueless
in kinder social graces such as diplomacy, tact and sensitivity.
By surface appearance, we can’t
help admiring Bathsheba. By her actions ... well, that’s another matter indeed.
Part of the problem, of course,
is the widening gap that separates our 21st century sensibilities from this
novel’s 1874 publication date, with all that entailed. During the past 50 years
in particular — since this book’s best-known 1967 adaptation by director John
Schlesinger, with Julie Christie handling the title role — we’ve grown less
tolerant of a 19th century male author’s clumsy attempt at a female
protagonist, and far more impressed by Austen’s progressive 18th century
creation of (to us) much more interesting heroines.
