“Shifting Heirs and the Ferrars Estate”

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“SHIFTING HEIRS AND THE FERRARS ESTATE”

I have been a fan of Jane Austen’s 1811 novel, “Sense and Sensibility” ever since I saw Ang Lee’s 1995 adaptation. In fact, the 1995 movie initiated my appreciation of Austen’s novel and other works. But there is a certain aspect of Austen’s tale that has confused me for years. And it has to do with Edward and Robert Ferrars and their family’s fortune. 

“Sense and Sensibility” told the story of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood – the older two of three sisters that encountered love, heartache and romantic obstacles when their father’s death and half-brother’s lack of generosity left them in financial straits. Elinor had fallen in love with Edward Ferrars, the mild-mannered brother of her sister-in-law Fanny; before she, her sisters and mother were forced to leave Norland Park in the hands of half-brother John and Fanny. Unfortunately for Elinor, Edward’s family was determined that he marry an heiress. Later, she discovered that he had been engaged for several years to another impoverished young woman named Lucy Steele, the cousin-in-law of Sir John Middleton, Mrs. Dashwood’s cousin and the family’s benefactor. The younger and more impetuous Marianne fell deeply in love with a young man named John Willoughby. Although the latter harbored feelings for Marianne, he loved the idea of a fortune even more. Willoughby eventually rejected Marianne in order to marry a wealthy heiress, leaving the Dashwoods’ neighbor Colonel Christopher Brandon to console her.

The story arc regarding Marianne’s love life proved to be problem-free for me. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same about Elinor’s story arc. I still have a problem with that obstacle to Elinor’s romantic happiness – namely Edward’s engagement to the manipulative Lucy Steele. In the novel, Mrs. Ferrars disinherited Edward in favor of his younger brother, Robert, after the Ferrars family learned about his engagement to Lucy . . . and he refused to break said engagement. Mindful of Edward’s financial situation and his ambitions to earn a living with the Church of England, Colonel Brandon offers him therectory at the former’s estate, Delaford, for a low salary. This is where “Sense and Sensibility” becomes a bit tricky. The novel concluded Edward’s visit to the Dashwoods’ home, Barton Cottage, in which he not only proposed marriage to Elinor, but also announced that Lucy Steele had broken their engagement in order to elope with Robert. Only . . . the latter remained heir to the Ferrars estate by the novel’s conclusion.

The financial fates of both Edward and Robert seemed to be tied with the character of Lucy Steele. Most of the Ferrars family and Lady Middleton seemed to harbor a high regard for Lucy and her sister, Anne. Yet, when Anne exposed Lucy’s secret engagement to Edward, Mrs. Ferrars disinherited the latter in favor of her younger son, Robert. But after Robert’s elopement to Lucy, he remained heir to the Ferrars estate. And to this day, I can only ask . . . why? Why did Mrs. Ferrars disinherited Edward after he refused to break his engagement to Lucy . . . and fail to disinherit Robert, after he had eloped with the same woman?

In the 1981 BBC adaptation, Edward (portrayed by Bosco Hogan) claimed that Robert’s inheritance became irreversible, despite his elopement with Lucy. Frankly, the explanation given by Austen struck me as rather confusing. The miniseries’ screenwriters Alexander Baron and Denis Constanduros failed to explain why Edward financially paid the price for refusing to break his engagement with Lucy. They especially failed to explain why Robert DID NOT pay the price for marrying her. Is there someone out there who can offer an explanation?

“JANE EYRE” (1983) Review

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“JANE EYRE” (1983) Review

As long as I can remember, both the Hollywood and British film industries have trotted out Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 novel,“Jane Eyre” in order to make a movie or television adaptation of it. Looking back, I realize that I have seen at least six adaptation of the novel in my life time. 

One of those adaptations turned out to be the 1983 BBC miniseries, “JANE EYRE”. Directed by Julian Amyes and adapted by Alexander Baron, the eleven-part miniseries starred Zelah Clarke in the title role and Timothy Dalton as Edward Rochester. Following Brontë’s novel, “JANE EYRE” told the story of a plain young English woman in early 19th Britain – from her abusive childhood to her position as a governess at an imposing manor in the Yorkshire countryside. Jane’s story began at Gateshead, where she suffered abuse at the hands of her widowed aunt-in-law and three cousins. After a clash with her cousin John, Mrs. Reed has Jane enrolled at Lowood Institution, a charity school for girls. Jane spends the next eight years under the tyrannical rule of Lowood’s headmaster, the self-righteous clergyman Mr. Brocklehurst – six years as a student and two as a teacher.

Longing for greener pastures, Jane advertises her services as a governess, and receives a reply from a Mrs. Alice Fairfax, housekeeper of Thornfield Hall. She takes the position and becomes governess for Adele Varens, the young French ward of Thornfield’s master, Mr. Edward Rochester. After meeting Mr. Rochester, Jane develops a close friendship with him . . . and the two eventually fall in love. But a secret involving strange laughs, a mysterious fire and an attack on Rochester’s house guest, Mr. Mason threatens any chance of marital bliss for the governess and her employer.

I first saw “JANE EYRE” years ago on a video cassette copy that featured no opening or closing credits between episodes. So, it eventually came as surprise to me that the 1983 miniseries had aired in eleven thirty-minute installments. I found myself wondering why the BBC had decided to air the miniseries in this fashion. Why not air it in five one-hour episodes? Or six fifty-minutes episodes? Regardless of the manner in which the BBC had aired “JANE EYRE”, I cannot deny that in the end, I found it very satisfying.

Before I wax lyrical over “JANE EYRE”, I have to acknowledge some of its aspects that I found unappealing. Many fans probably loved the idea of this adaptation being so close to Brontë’s novel in compare to many other adaptations. And while I am relieved that Alexander Baron’s screenplay did not rush the story in a manner similar to the 1997 television adaptation, there were times when I found this miniseries a bit too loyal to the novel. I might as well confess that I am not particularly fond of the sequences that featured Jane’s years at Lonwood and her time spent with St. John Rivers and his two sisters. The Lowood sequences bored me senseless. I understand that Jane’s interactions with the school’s headmaster was a message on the oppression of a patriarchal society, I practically struggled to prevent myself from hitting the Fast Forward button of my DVD remote. I could say the same about Jane’s time with the Rivers family. While I had initially found her relationship with St. John Rivers fascinating, I heaved a mighty sigh of relief by the time Jane returned to Thornfield Hall. Sometimes, a film or television production can be too faithful to a literary source . . . to the point of dragging the story’s pacing to a near halt.

I have one last complaint to reveal – namely the characterization of Edward Rochester’s mysterious wife from the West Indies, Mrs. Bertha Rochester. I realize that Baron and director Julian Amyes were trying to be as faithful to the novel as possible. Unfortunately, Bertha’s characterization turned out to be another example of the dangers of a movie or miniseries being too faithful to a literary source. I was surprised to experience a glimmer of sympathy toward the character, while watching the 1997 movie. I felt no such glimmer in this version . . . merely irritation. I cannot blame actress Joolia Cappleman. She must have been following the script or Amyes’ direction. But for years, I have harbored the feeling that the characterization of Bertha . . . and Adele’s dancer mother, for that matter, may have been examples of Brontë’s xenophobia toward the French or anyone who was not British. Bertha’s characterization struck me as completely one-dimensional and created in a manner to garner sympathy toward the controlling Rochester, who had just attempted to drag Jane into a bigamous marriage. Considering that the 1966 novel, “Wide Sargasso Sea” had been around for seventeen years around this time, could it have hurt both Amyes and Baron to portray Bertha in a slightly more sympathetic light?

Michael Edwards did a solid job in his production designs for “JANE EYRE”. I was especially impressed by his use of Deene Park, located near Corby, Northamptonshire; for the Thornfield Hall sequences. And his recreation of the Yorkshire countryside in 1830s England during those scenes featuring Jane’s attempts to find shelter and food following her flight from Thornfield struck me as tolerably convincing. Cinematographers David Doogood, John Kenway and Keith Salmon’s photography seemed pretty solid, despite the miniseries being shot in video film. Speaking of the 1830s, I still find it surprising that this is the only adaptation of “Jane Eyre” that is set during this decade. The other five versions I have seen were all set during the early or mid 1840s. I must admit that Gill Hardie’s costumes ably reflected that particular decade.

Despite my complaints, I still enjoyed “JANE EYRE” very much. Baron and Amyes did an excellent job of recapturing Brontë’s saga. Their handling of Jane’s romance with Rochester bridled with passion and intelligence. More importantly, they retained enough of Brontë’s work to convey a very plausible development of Jane’s character. Both director and screenwriter perfectly maintained Rochester’s complex personality. His love for Jane and appreciation of her intelligence seemed apparent. Yet, Baron maintained a good deal of Rochester’s sardonic humor and controlling nature. The meat of Brontë’s novel has always been centered around Jane and Rochester’s relationship. And the miniseries perfectly captured every delicious nuance of it. But I must admit that I was also impressed by the sequences featuring Jane’s early years at Gateshead. Baron did a good job of capturing the miseries that Jane suffered at the hands of the Reed family. When I first saw “JANE EYRE”, I had lacked the patience to appreciate the sequence in which Jane becomes a vagabond before meeting the Rivers family. This last viewing made me appreciate it, because it conveyed the suffering that Jane had endured after leaving Thornfield Hall – something that most adaptations seem to gloss over.

I cannot deny that the performances featured in “JANE EYRE” were top-notched. Both Zelah Clarke and Timothy Dalton created a strong screen chemistry as the two leads, Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester. Clarke’s Jane seemed very submissive in Rochester’s “commanding” presence . . . at least at first. There was an interesting scene in which Jane eagerly approached her employer, the morning following an evening of easy camaraderie between the two. Instead, Rochester responded in a brusque manner, producing a wounded puppy dog expression on Jane’s face. Another scene that impressed me featured Jane’s reluctant admission of her true feelings toward Rochester. The pair acted the hell out of that scene, leaving me convinced that I had witnessed their finest moment together. Some might view Rochester’s failed attempt to prevent Jane’s departure from Thornfield as that special moment. But the “admission of love” scene was the one that really impressed me.

Zelah Clarke did an excellent job in conveying Jane’s emotional growth from a reserved and pious eighteen year-old governess to the strong-willed and more emotional woman. Her Jane Eyre struck me as slightly more reserved than other portrayals. Which seemed all the more amazing to me, as Clarke slowly revealed Jane’s inner passions. Timothy Dalton gave, in my opinion, the best portrayal of the complex Edward Rochester. Mind you, he had his moments of theatricality. But in the end, Dalton superbly conveyed both the best and worst of Rochester’s character with seamless skill. Some have declared Dalton as too handsome for the plain-looking Rochester. Considering that just about every actor who has portrayed the character was more attractive than the literary character. I found such arguments irrelevant.

Both Clarke and Dalton received solid support from the rest of the cast. Damien Thomas seemed very impressive as Richard Mason, Rochester’s tenuously sane and nervous brother-in-law. I could also say the same about Andrew Bicknell’s cool and commanding portrayal of St. John Rivers, the missionary wannabe. Blance Youinou was quite charming as Rochester’s young French ward, Adele Valens. And Sian Pattenden was impressively believable as the hot-tempered young Jane Eyre.

I cannot say that “JANE EYRE” is perfect. Unlike other costume drama fans, I do not require that period movie or miniseries be an exact adaptation of its literary source. Although this adaptation of Brontë’s novel might not be completely faithful, I do wish that screenwriter Alexander Baron had been even a little less faithful, especially in scenes featuring Jane’s years at Lowood and her time spent with the Rivers family. But I cannot deny that this miniseries turned out to be an excellent adaptation. I would probably go so far to state that it might be the best adaptation of Brontë’s novel. And we have Baron’s writing, Julian Amyes’ direction and superb performances from Zelah Clarke and Timothy Dalton to thank.

 

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“SENSE AND SENSIBILITY” (1981) Review

 

“SENSE AND SENSIBILITY” (1981) Review

Jane Austen’s 1811 novel, “Sense and Sensibility” has been a favorite with her modern-day fans. The novel has produced at least three television and two movie adaptations and a literary parody. However, this review is about the seven-part, 1981 BBC adaptation. 

Directed by Rodney Bennett and adapted by Alexander Baron and Denis Constanduros, “SENSE AND SENSIBILITY”starred Irene Richards and Tracey Childs as the two main protagonists – sisters Elinor and Marianne Dashwood. The story focused on the sisters’ attempts to find happiness in the tightly structured society of early 19th century England. Through their experiences with men and their relationship with each other, Elinor and Marianne learn that one must strive for a balance of both sense and sensibility.

From an overall point of view, this “SENSE AND SENSIBILITY” seemed to be a solid adaptation of Austen’s 1811 novel. I have noticed in many articles and reviews of Austen adaptations made in the 1970s and 1980s, fans tend to view them as “faithful” in compare to later ones. Frankly, I have yet to see an Austen adaptation made before or after 1986 as completely faithful. And I can extend this opinion to this 1981 production. One, Baron and Constanduros’ screenplay began with the grieving Dashwood women returning to Norland Hall, after viewing a potential new home. And there is no sign of a Margaret Dashwood – the youngest of the three sisters – in sight. But since the other versions of the novel are no more or less faithful, I do not have a problem with this. But I did have a problem with the miniseries’ ending. It featured Edward Ferrars asking for Elinor’s hand in marriage and Colonel Brandon commencing his courtship of a receptive Marianne. That is it. The ending seemed a bit too abrupt for my tastes.

And I had other problems with “SENSE AND SENSIBILITY”. I realize that the male characters in Austen’s novel were not as strongly written as the female characters. But the uninspiring casting in this production made their roles seem even weaker. I am sorry to say that neither Robert Swann or Bosco Hogan as Colonel Brandon and Edward Ferrars had impressed me. Both seemed rather solid, but lackluster in their roles. Peter Woodward gave a charming performance as the novel’s ne’er-do-well, John Willoughby. Unfortunately, Woodward’s presence barely made a dent in the production. And his biggest scene – in which Willoughby expressed remorse for his bad treatment of Marianne to Elinor – featured some over-the-top acting. But not all of the male performers disappointed me.

Watching Diana Fairfax’s performance as Mrs. Dashwood, I found myself wondering why Elinor was forced to assume so much responsibility for their household at Barton Cottage. Fairfax’s Mrs. Dashwood seemed nothing like the emotional widow who was forced to come down to earth by her more sensible older daughter. She seemed just as sensible in her own way. Annie Leon’s portrayal of Mrs. Jennings struck me as pleasant, affable and very supportive of the Dashwood sisters. But there was something missing in her performance. She seemed subdued in compare to Austen’s portrayal of the character. Leon’s Mrs. Jennings failed to be the nosy, cheeful vulgarian that I had come to love. I barely remember Marjorie Bland’s portrayal of Mrs. Jennings’ older daughter, Lady Middleton. She failed to leave a mark in my memories. I could say the same about Hetty Baynes as Mrs. Jennings’ younger daughter, Mrs. Charlotte Palmer. And Margot Van der Burgh’s Mrs. Ferrars seemed more like a dress rehearsal for Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”.

But there were performances that impressed me. Julia Chambers and Pippa Sparks made a very entertaining Lucy and Ann Steele. I was especially impressed by Chambers’ performance, which struck a fine balance between Lucy’s scheming and desperation to become a member of the respectable and wealthy Ferrars family. Philip Bowen’s portrayal of Robert Ferrars struck me as rather funny. He gave the character a foppish edge that I have never seen in other portrayals of the character. Donald Douglas was certainly down-to-earth in an affable manner as Mrs. Dashwood’s cousin, Sir John Middleton. Amanda Boxer gave a spot-on portrayal of the cold-blooded and domineering Fanny Dashwood. But the one performance that really impressed me was Peter Gale’s as the Dashwood family’s new patriarch, John. Although he gave a solid performance in the miniseries’ early episodes, he really came into his own in the role, when the story shifted to London. I was especially impressed by one scene in which Gale’s John tried to point out the suitability of Colonel Brandon as a match for Elinor. Both Irene Richards and Tracey Childs gave solid performances as Elinor and Marianne Dashwood. The two actresses did a first-rate job of holding the miniseries together as the the leads. And both were somewhat spot-on in their portrayal of the two sisters. Mind you, I would have liked if Richards had revealed the passion that Elinor harbored for Edward in small moments. And I wish that Childs’ Marianne was not so sober – especially in a few scenes in the miniseries’ earlier episodes. But in the end, they did a good job.

As far as production design goes, I am afraid that Paul Joel did a solid job. But there was nothing about his work that I found particularly impressive. I suspect that he may have been hampered by the budget. I was NOT impressed by Dorothea Wallace’s costumes. Frankly, I found them rather cheap looking and in some cases, slightly ill fitting. Like the miniseries’ production design, it was probably hampered by the budget. Overall, I would have to say that this “SENSE AND SENSIBILITY” was the least impressive looking adaptation I have ever seen.

“SENSE AND SENSIBILITY” had its virtues. Both Irene Richards and Tracey Childs gave solid performances and kept this production together, along with director Rodney Bennett. The supporting cast also included memorable performances from the likes of Peter Gale, Amanda Boxer, Donald Douglas, Julia Chambers and Peter Woodward. And screenwriters Alexander Baron and Denis Constanduros managed to create a solid script that was nearly faithful to the story. But due to a good number of disappointing performances and a rather cheap looking production, this is probably my least favorite adaptation.