The love stories of Jane Austen might be set in England's Regency era of stiff gender norms and even stiffer social hierarchies, but their appeal is timeless. Austen's novels have been adapted over and over for film and television. Sometimes they are set within their traditional setting, like Ang Lee's rapturous Sense and Sensibility, Joe Wright's Pride and Prejudice, and Autumn de Wilde's Emma. Other times, they get a modern overhaul, like Bridget Jones's Diary, Fire Island, or Clueless. Still other adapters might shift the focus to a character or a fan insert, leading to inventive reimaginings like Lost in Austen and The Other Bennet Sister.
Each incarnation allows audiences a chance to see Austen's work in a new way — but only if the filmmaker embraces such an opportunity. And so, I am at a loss when regarding director Georgia Oakley's Sense and Sensibility.
It dedicatedly captures the plot points of Austen's 1811 novel about the penniless Dashwood sisters' search for happiness in a society obsessed with status. But the film lacks a distinct identity, leaving me to wonder why Oakley wanted to bring Elinor and Marianne back to the big screen to begin with. Her passion for the project feels as thunderous as Colonel Brandon's (Herbert Nordrum) in the film's first act. But unlike him, Oakley's passion never ignites.
What's Sense and Sensibility about?
Austen's novel follows the misadventures of the Dashwood family, which includes mother Mrs. Dashwood (Caitríona Balfe), and her three daughters, Elinor (Daisy Edgar-Jones), Marianne (Esmé Creed-Miles), and the youngest, Margaret (Bodhi Rae Breathnach). The death of the girls' father has thrown their lives into spin, as he left his house and wealth to a half-brother they hardly know.
With aggressive speed, this Mr. Dashwood (a dryly funny Tom Brooke) appears on their doorstep with his greedy wife Fanny (a hilarious vicious Stacy Martin), ready to seize all that is legally theirs.
Poverty is an obvious obstacle for the Dashwood girls in finding a good match. But good fortune seems to fall on Elinor as she falls — in her quiet way — for Fanny's brother Edward Ferrars (George MacKay). Meanwhile, Marianne is being pursued by an elder gentleman of means, the aforementioned Colonel Brandon, but she only has eyes for the galavanting John Willoughby (Frank Dillane).
Over the course of Sense and Sensibility, the Dashwoods will move to a new — and much humbler — home, find curious new acquaintances, and travel to London in search of love, or at the very least truth. But can they find happiness?
Sense and Sensibility (2026) is charming, but not enchanting.
Arguably, Sense and Sensibility is a trickier movie adaptation than Austen's other most-revisited works, because its heroine Elinor Dashwood is less spirited and impetuous than Emma's eponymous protagonist and Pride and Prejudice's Lizzie Bennet. More than the other Austen adaptations, this one requires a balancing of the double act that is Elinor and Marianne.
Dedicated to be proper and good above even her own happiness, Elinor is a sharp foil to her impulsive younger sister Marianne. Where Elinor meticulously strives to say the civil thing, Marianne rarely has a thought that goes unspoken. To put it simply, where the former is ruled by her head, the latter is ruled by her heart.
Through their intertwined tales of love and heartache, Austen exposes how in the pursuit of happiness both reason and feeling — or sense and sensibility — are essential. And so, the sisters must learn from each other, however reluctantly.
In Lee's adaptation, a young Kate Winslet brought girlish verve to Marianne, while Emma Thompson, who also penned the adapted screenplay, brought a trembling vulnerability to Elinor. In Oakley's version, the performance style overall is more restrained, rejecting the romance of Lee's interpretation. But it's hard to say what she chooses to put in place of the romance.
Edgar-Jones delivers a performance that is so restrained that it can feel vexingly wooden. Opposite her, MacKay becomes her mirror, his eyes shining but vacant as the two could-be lovers struggle to confess their true feelings.
Meanwhile, Creed-Miles is engaging as Marianne. But Oakley's presentation of this Austen character is less playful and more proto-goth girl. Creed-Miles excitedly chatters about passion and a wish for a lover with a "dark past," while greasy locks of hair tumble across her face and shoulders, a constant reminder of Marianne's love of nature and untamed temperament.
It is an interesting take on the character, but it becomes one-note as Marianne's pleas for the attentions of Willoughby get angsty. Making matters worse, despite so much talk of passion, neither of Marianne's would-be suitors are beguiling. Across the board, the chemistry of these leads is inert. No dashing gentleman will rise from a pond, his white shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. There's no flexing hand to make audiences swoon. And even Sense and Sensibility's ballroom dance scenes, which are traditionally a terrific place to exude sexual tension within the socially restrained setting, are lacking in allure.
Fiona Shaw is the MVP of Sense and Sensibility.
I was overall underwhelmed by the leads of Oakley's adaptation. But her supporting players are terrifically alive, bringing a spark that was a reprieve to such sternness. Screenwriter Diana Reid makes the most out of dinner scenes, and that's where many characters get to shine.
As mentioned, Martin is deliciously wicked as the Dashwood's scheming, gold-digging sister-in-law. Breathnach, to her credit, is impishly amusing as the youngest sister. Playing boisterous cousin Sir John Middleton, Turlough Convery is warmly amusing, while Chloe Pirrie is cringe-inducingly funny as his socially awkward wife, who treats the weather like a hobby. Plus, Eliot Sumner is bitingly funny as Mr. Palmer, a quiet gentleman who is ever-irked by his relentlessly chatty wife.
But make no mistake, Fiona Shaw steals scenes she's not even in as Mrs. Jennings. A widow with wealth and way too much time on her hands, Jennings is treated within the plot as a busybody who unintentionally pokes at the emotional bruises of Elinor and Marianne's flailing romances. But Shaw plays more than the silliness or obliviousness of this merry widow. She also radiates with gaudy joy. Her snuffling laughter introduces her character as it echoes through the halls of the Dashwood house, even before she shows up onscreen.
It's brilliant casting, but beyond that, little elements like how Mrs. Jennings holds her placid pug puppy or offers a heartbroken girl a fortified wine, paint a possibility of womanhood neither Dashwood can currently imagine. Youth is such a volatile element in Austen's stories, because to be deemed an old maid could ruthlessly limit a lady's options. But being old and rich, with unquestionable status, Mrs. Jennings is offered the most freedom in Sense and Sensibility to truly do as she likes. She flaunts etiquette when it doesn't suit her, takes penniless girls on as pets for her travels, and shares her opinions loudly and fearlessly.
To the girls, she's a reckless and nosy bother. To me, she's a Golden Girl long before her time. Whenever the Dashwoods and their wooden suitors bored me, I waited (not so patiently) for Mrs. Jennings and her quirky family members to return and make me laugh again.
In the end, Sense and Sensibility is not a bad adaptation of Austen's work as much as it is a boring one. Oakley looks to ground her version in costuming and make-up that feels natural and true to the Regency era. She shies away from theatrical performances in her leads, perhaps seeking to create a timelessness out of a naturalistic approach. But such a tone doesn't fit the poetry of Austen's prose or dialogue. And so, the central romances feel lifeless over lived-in.
Thus, this Sense and Sensibility is sincere and at times amusing, but shrinks in comparison to other Austen adaptations.
Sense and Sensibility opens in the UK on Sept. 25 and in the U.S. on Oct. 16.