Emma (2009, Jim O’Hanlon)

Somehow this four hour adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma has rapidly delivered dialogue but never manages to work up any energy. It’s just people talking fast at one another, then lengthy “action” sequences, then more fast talking, then more dragging out. It’s especially noticeable with something like the oft-adapted Emma because there apparently isn’t a lot the half as short adaptations missed. Four hours doesn’t reveal anything new about Romola Garai’s protagonist, other than she really wants to go to the seaside but can’t.

This Emma isn’t just a four hour movie, but a four-part BBC miniseries. The four separate parts don’t have any inherent epical structures, just the scenes strung together for director Jim O’Hanlon to badly direct. He’s got a handful of shots he goes through, over and over, medium shots mostly, the same other the shoulder reaction shots, over and over, never getting a good moment of the actors’ performances. If they have any good moments, it’s never clear thanks to O’Hanlon and editor Mark Thornton. The way Thornton works is shot on person talking, cut to next person talking, no people listening. Even though Emma’s all about people talking and therefor listening to one another.

It’s really badly done.

Slight pun intended.

Also whoever told composer Samuel Sim to try to make up for O’Hanlon’s lethargic, inept direction with the music… the music tries, but it can’t compete against the technical inadequacies.

Though Sandy Welch’s teleplay doesn’t do Emma any favors. There’s a prologue tying together Garai, Laura Pyper, and Rupert Evans. All their moms died, two of their dads—Pyper and Evans—send their kids away. Michael Gambon keeps Garai and her older sister, Poppy Miller. So while Garai feels this connection with Pyper and Evans, they don’t share the same feelings at all. Possibly because Garai’s incapable of expressing her feelings, not even when she’s narrating (it does a terrible job with the narration—which only picks up after the first part; the first part has some dude narrating, presumably straight from the novel, which at least has some personality; Garai’s narration does not).

Over the four hours, Garai’s performance goes from silly—her catalog of expressions is a bunch of literal sitcom mugging, which stands out even more as neither Welch or O’Hanlon finds any of the very obvious humor in Emma—to just plain ineffective and finally, way too late, to at least effective. It’s never going to be great with O’Hanlon’s lousy composition but for the last half hour, even with Welch’s melodrama plotting, she’s effective. It’s not easy because she’s usually opposite dad Gambon, who manages to be so bored he doesn’t even look bored; he’s visually present on film. Garai and love interest Jonny Lee Miller only occasionally ever have chemistry. Jodhi May—as her former governess and closest confidant—is fine. Louise Dylan’s okay enough as Garai’s friend who she keeps trying to marry off and always just ends up getting Dylan’s heart broken. This adaptation avoids any of the hard talks because it can’t figure out how to keep Garai sympathetic after she’s so incompetent at the match-making.

Quite a few important performances are middling or worse. Tamsin Greig’s not good. Blake Ritson’s in the middling class but gets worse as it goes, more because of Welch’s plotting. Evans is bad. Pyper’s okay. Christina Cole’s pretty good. Dan Fredenburgh’s another middling performance but he’s also the only character Welch tries to give any personality in the script so he at least gets some consistent personality. Obviously the characters are supposed to be very reserved and proper but O’Hanlon directs them like they’re tabula rosa every scene and Welch doesn’t deign to figure out how to express character development in the adaptation.

Maybe if Adam Suschitzky’s photography weren’t so muddled and gray there’d be some visual personality. Probably not with O’Hanlon but it’s really muddy so an actual sun beam might do wonders. Especially since it’s a plot point. Though O’Hanlon doesn’t seem to have read the script before filming; it’d be better if he’d never thought about the scenes and then directed Emma than to have tried. Because an incomplete is better than a fail.

And nothing at four hours should be incomplete.

The miniseries format does reveal there’s plenty of possibility for a longer Emma adaptation—imagine doing long-form serialized character development instead of throwing all the big conflict into the last fifty some minutes of 240—but this one only gets to the finish thanks to Austen’s source material and the professionalism of the cast.

It’s disappointing and frustrating, but at least never boring. Again, got to be thanks to Austen.

Emma (2020, Autumn de Wilde)

If IMDb is correct, there have been only ten other adaptations of Jane Austen’s Emma, and I’m including the modernizations. So it’s not so much Emma is oft-adapted, maybe just it’s got a very memorable story. Memorable enough even I was anticipating how—oh, wow, it’s director de Wilde’s first feature. Like, remember when music video directors were a punchline when they went to features?

Anyway, even with my limited Emma knowledge, I was able to anticipate—gleefully—how de Wilde and screenwriter Eleanor Catton were going to adapt the twists and turns. Because once Emma arrives, so to speak, which probably happens with the appearance of Tanya Reynolds as odious vicar Josh O'Connor’s new good lady wife, there’s no longer a question of whether or not the film will be a success. Instead, it’s a question of how successful it will be. And de Wilde, leads Anya Taylor-Joy and Johnny Flynn, Catton, they seem to peak Emma. Like, it’s hard to imagine how you could do the film better given Taylor-Joy is basically a villain for much of the film’s run time. Not exactly and it’s all very complicated, but watching Taylor-Joy manipulate the worlds around her for her own amusement and questionable pursuit of perfection… she’s not a hero.

It’s what makes her eventual friendship of social cruelty with Callum Turner so effective. He’s encouraging her worst compulsions and doing so for his own benefit. The film sets Taylor-Joy and Turner up as alter egos of sorts, with him using his powers of handsomeness, cleverness, and wealth for selfish purposes, Taylor-Joy uses hers for altruistic ones. But she gets to determine the altruism. The film doesn’t emphasize these parallels and inversions, it just presents them plainly, unspoken. The young, rich, and unmarried in nineteenth century England are have their lane and they aren’t going to deviate. I suppose there’s also a parallel with Flynn, older than Taylor-Joy and Turner, who was once young, is still rich and still unmarried.

Did I just describe the obvious themes of the novel, because when I was watching the film, I finally “got it.” Taylor-Joy’s arc is fantastic in this film. De Wilde and Catton have this very rich backdrop for her to act in. It’s not just getting to see her in the gorgeous production—production designer Kave Quinn, costume designer Alexandra Byrne, and set decorator Stella Fox do exquisite work. There’s a scene where notoriously private Flynn gives a tour of his house to his friends, showing off his various art treasures and the camera can never be slow enough on the pieces, with de Wilde and cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt so gorgeously showcasing. As the characters are all reacting to this art around them, being able to see the art so beautifully rendered makes for an entirely different scene than if it were just the drama of the characters.

But the film is a comedy of manners. The narrative twists and turns are only consequential because of the strict cultural norms the cast finds themselves in. It’s very layered, with the characters being very constrained in what they can do and stay. Again, de Wilde and Catton do an excellent job of establishing the rules without any big exposition dumps. Instead, we pick it up from Taylor-Joy’s friendship with latest matching making victim but also apparently first real friend, Mia Goth, or from Taylor-Joy’s dad (a truly wonderful Bill Nighy) in his whining about their social obligations, or from the supporting cast as they fret to one another; Flynn has, of course, the most to say about the cultural norms but also the most restraint. If Flynn’s going to say something about how people are behaving, it’s going to have to be egregious. He’s got all the wisdom and knows it, whereas Taylor-Joy thinks she can bend wisdom to fit her knowledge.

Taylor-Joy and Flynn are the most important performances. They make the film. It’s hard to imagine anyone doing a better job with this material than Taylor-Joy and Flynn. Taylor-Joy becomes sympathetic through Flynn’s approving eye, but her character development is all her own. Outside that approval, in fact. The ending does something really lovely—and lightning fast—reorienting how to read that character development throughout too. de Wilde and Catton always keep some distance from Taylor-Joy, even when we’re seeing her in distress, and are then able to move in for the ending and really leverage the work Taylor-Joy’s done along with some narrative echoing to earlier in the film.

Who’s better, Taylor-Joy or Flynn? It’s a toss-up. Taylor-Joy’s always excellent but she gets more material. Until all of a sudden Flynn gets more material and it seems like he’s even better. But with the third act, the scenes functionally depend on Taylor-Joy and her performance so… Taylor-Joy. Flynn’s still great (and contributes the end credits song, which is adorable).

The supporting cast is all outstanding. Turner’s an excellent rich heel, Goth’s great as the friend; Goth gets a great third act showcase. Nighy’s great as the dad, who’s a hypochondriac. Lots of laughs for Nighy with that detail. Including Chloe Pirrie as Taylor-Joy’s married with children older sister, who’s caught the “bug.” Suffering husband, Oliver Chris (also Flynn’s brother), is hilarious with all his reactions. Then there’s Gemma Whelan as Taylor-Joy’s former governess, first matchmaking victim, and only friend. She’s good. Not in it a lot, but when she’s in it, she’s really good. The baked-in character relationships, the established ones, they’re all really well-done. Rupert Graves is good as her new husband. Miranda Hart’s great in a really important and complicated part. Amber Anderson, as the analogue Taylor-Joy rejects, is good. O’Connor and Reynolds are wonderful.

De Wilde’s direction—composition, performances—is superior. All the technicals are great—wonderful music from David Schweitzer and Isobel Waller-Bridge—Blauvelt’s aforementioned photography and Nick Emerson’s editing are superlative.

Emma is an absolute delight.