SENSE AND SENSIBILITY

Directing: B+
Acting: B+
Writing: B+
Cinematography: A-
Editing: B+

It would seem that film and TV adaptations of Jane Austen novels—she only published seven, only four of them during her lifetime—are endless. But, this is really a testament to the enduring power of her work. Pride and Prejudice has of course gotten the most treatments, and Emma also had its fair share. But Sense and Sensibility, Austen’s debut novel, has only had two notable feature film adaptations, starting with the widely admired 1995 film starring and written by Emma Thompson, who won that film’s only Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay. Now we have a new film adaptation, over thirty years later, and as with all adaptations, it reflects the time in which it was made as much as it reflects the time it depicts (in this case, early-19th century England).

One might wonder what point there is of another film adaptation, if the previous one was so great. I shall probably watch that one again soon, just out of sheer curiosity—but, it was likely the right choice not to have watched it right before this one. Making comparisons inevitable is unfair, and this Sense and Sensibility, directed by Georgia Oakley and adapted by Diana Reid (writing her first feature film script), works quite well on its own merits.

The world of this adaptation feels deeply lived in, and features all the charms one might want or expect from a Jane Austen story: a family of young women who are all victims of circumstance; a subtly villainous woman; fundamentally misjudged suitors; an eccentric aunt. The aunt in this case, one Mrs. Jennings, is played by an always-welcome Fiona Shaw, significantly livening up the proceedings.

There is something eternal about Austen’s stories, in which the women who make up the primary characters have their fortunes tied only to the fates of the men in their lives. Here we focus on three sisters: Elinor (Daisy Edgar-Jones); Marianne (Esmé Creed-Miles); and Margaret (Bodhi Rae Breathnach). Their father has died and left their mother, Mrs. Dashwood (Caitríona Balfe), relatively destitute, as his older child from a previous marriage, the sisters’ half-brother John (Tom Brooke, a somewhat inexplicably odd presence here), thus inherits the house. So it goes in this time: an uknown relative can take all the assets because inheritance only passes through the men.

And so, as always with these stories, the plot revolves around the women finding happiness by finding the right man with whom to secure their future. While Margaret gets a bit short shrift here, perhaps because she is youngest, both Elinor and Marianne are faced with suitors who have their own array of challenges: Edward (George MacKay) has clear affections for Elinor but is painfully shy about it, with more complicated reasons revealed further into the story; Colonel Brandon (Herbert Nordrum) is taken with Marianne, who is annoyed by his apparent lack of passion, and smitten by the apparent abundance of it in one John Willoughby (Frank Dillane).

I spent a lot of time watching Sense and Sensibility and thinking about its many narrative similarities to Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen’s second novel and by far her most popular. It’s also true that this particular film adaptation of Sense and Sensibility has a fair amount in common with the Kiera Knightly-starring film adaptation of Pride & Prejudice from 2005. That is a better film than this one, just by virtue of its far higher pedigree, but not by a huge margin. By all accounts, the same could be said of the novels: Pride and Prejudice is better, but not by a wide margin.

These other stories largely exist for people wanting to continue their Jane Austen fix. At least in this adaptation, the characters are more lively than they are buttoned-up—particularly the women, who are well-rounded, multi-dimensional and distinct characters thanks both to the writing and the performances. In this film, the male characters as a general rule are serviceable but nowhere near as interesting. It’s always great to see women get their due, but they also deserve better men, don’t they?

This, I suppose, is the downside to the world of Jane Austen: the women can only pin their hopes and dreams on the men available to them, no matter how interesting or dynamic they may or may not be. With different actors, these men might seem more charismatic, but it’s also how they are written. But, whatever: it remains easy to get emotionally invested in these young women, their romantic entanglements and especially their relationships with each other. Such is the magic of Jane Austen, particularly when well enough adapted, which this is.

One of many stills from Sense and Sensibility that could double as a painting.

Overall: B+

PHANTOM THREAD

Directing: A-
Acting: A-
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: A-

Phantom Thread ultimately threw me for a loop. That’s what’s good about it. Or maybe it’s what’s best about it. It takes a while to come to that realization.

Until then, we follow along as renowned 1950s-era London clothing designer Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) falls in love with his latest muse, Alma (Vicky Krieps). It’s not that simple, though: to say Woodcock’s life is controlled would be an understatement. The man is upper-middle-aged, and as we see early on in the film, his muses have long been part of the routine: they come and go, until he tires of them. His focus is always on his work first, and this is facilitated by his sister, Cryil (Lesley Manville), with whom he is particularly close, both personally and professionally. Cyril is the one who will ask Reynolds if he would like her to ask that whatever woman it is leave.

The story here, then, is the woman who comes along and, once that question is asked, Reynolds says no. Reynolds has many difficulties with Alma’s unusual interruptions and breaks in his beloved routine, most of them rather subtle – it could be something as simple as her loudly scraping butter on her toast. Over time, Reynolds discovers himself to be attached to these interruptions. And then, after most of the movie presents as merely a sweet love story filled with many stunningly designed dresses (if this doesn’t get nominated for Costume Design it will be a travesty), a certain darkness to these interruptions is revealed. There is something very fucked up about this relationship, as it turns out, and Reynolds loves it.

If anything can be said about writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson, it’s that he is unlike any other director. Furthermore – and this is quite an accomplishment – each of his own movies is unlike any other he’s done. I have been a loyal and eager fan since Magnolia (1999) and his films have been reliable masterworks since Boogie Nights (1997). Only with 2015’s Inherent Vice did he disappoint – I broke with the majority of critics, for once, and found that one frustratingly convoluted. Phantom Thread is a welcome return to something both comprehensible and compelling.

Daniel Day-Lewis, as it happens, is here collaborating with P.T. Anderson a second time, ten years after – yet another masterwork --  There Will Be Blood. Day-Lewis says this will be his final acting role, but I take that announcement with a grain of salt (okay, Cher). It could be argued that this man is the greatest actor alive today, and you only need to compare his two roles in P.T. Anderson films to see it: the characters Reynolds Woodcock and Daniel Plainview could not possibly be more different. Woodcock certainly has his own repressions, but he also has barely guarded insecurities, and a genuine warmth when he wants to share it. He actually smiles. He is literally soft-spoken, and there is a certain comfort just in hearing him speak.

One of my favorite things about Phantom Thread is how many female characters it features. Daniel Day-Lewish may be the star, but aside from the small part of a male doctor, every other part of any note is of a woman: Alma; Cyril; the many employees who assist Reynolds with the assembly of his dresses. It could even be said that the emotional heart of Phantom Thread is not embodied by either Reynolds or Alma, but Reynolds’s sister, Cyril. Lesley Manville plays her beautifully, conveying a range of frustrations and resentments through measured and cold stares. Evidently never having had any romance in her own life, which is entirely wrapped up in Reynolds’s, she is the one who must come to terms with a permanent change in a brother she has relied on for decades. It would feel cheap to call this sibling rivalry; it’s something much deeper than that. In any case, Manville and Day-Lewis are completely convincing as siblings.

Alma, for her part, is deceptively deferential as Reynolds brings her in as his muse. Phantom Thread is partly narrated by her, the camera jumping back to her talking to someone in front of a fireplace. Who the hell is she talking to? We find out soon enough, at which point her relationship with Reynolds is revealed to be, let’s say, unconventional. Saying that alone might make one think exactly how it’s unconventional is easy to guess. Trust me, it’s not. This movie takes its time at it, but it goes in unexpected directions that are subtly disturbing. And if a movie must be disturbing, subtle is perhaps the best way to go. It makes a movie richer with repeat viewings, and I will certainly be watching this one again.

Alma and Reynolds dance around the dysfunctions that make their relationship function.

Alma and Reynolds dance around the dysfunctions that make their relationship function.

Overall: A-