Third Outing for Tess takes a tumble

What a shame. I was really getting to grips with Tess of the D'Urbervilles, the BBC's latest period drama offering. Episode One was a bit bland and iffy. Episode Two was a comparative cracker. Episode Three stalled. Badly.

I'm trying to work out whether I found this particular quarter of Hardy's novel similarly dull and inspiring. But no. I always remember being gripped by Tess and Angel's brief 'honeymoon' at the creepy old D'Urberville mansion. And overwhelmed with fury at Angel's callous priggishness.

In this production, I found these scenes oddly lifeless. It's not for want of trying on the part of Gemma Arterton's Tess. She really does pucker up her bottom lip nicely, and her large, soulful eyes glow with fearful sorrow. Having thought Eddie Redmayne made for a decent enough Angel Clare in Episode Two, I was now forced into second thoughts. His entire demeanour was wooden, his voice flat and unemotional. To my surprise, I found myself hankering for Oliver Milburn's performance in ITV's 1998 version of Hardy's epic.

Tess's gruelling farm-work was also well-portrayed in the 1998 ITV version; genuinely resonant of hardship and suffering. You could see why Alex's offer to take Tess away from the grime and misery of peasant life was so inviting?

Which perhaps points to the main difficulty I am having with this piece right now. The BBC prides itself on authentic period drama, but has shied away from any semblance of the grit and grime which would have besmirched daily rural life at this time.

We need a real sense of Tess's sufferings here. And I'm just not getting it.

Hopefully things will pick up in next week's final episode. I'll post a fuller review then.

Last Lost In Austen lacking

How very, very sad. Having enjoyed, for the most part, Lost In Austen, ITV's 'fan fiction' take on Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, the final episode was all too rushed and really, a little bit rubbish.

Unlike numerous comments I have encountered on other blogs, I was not disappointed by Darcy winding up with the eternally irritating Amanda Price (she never grew on me ... I tried. Honest). In fact, I thought it was the logical conclusion to what turned out to be a Mary Sue-Supreme, in Fan Fiction parlance. Amanda managed to ensnare the interest of just about every chap in Austen-land she came across, and Darcy was no exception.

I couldn't help but notice, during my perusal of other review sites, that rascally Wickham has become a firm fan favourite, ousting Darcy himself as Totty Numero Uno. While considering him pleasant enough , I was glad he didn't become the 'hero'. There was definitely something a little odd about him though - almost too knowing, too wily. Perhaps if there is a sequel (which I rather doubt; viewing figures weren't that great), I imagine Wickham might be unveiled as a fellow time-traveller, which would be VERY interesting - and I only wish it had been the case in this series.

In the final episode, Amanda returned to the hurly-burly of modern London, pursued by a perplexed Mr Darcy, convinced he was suffering some kind of psychotic, delusional episode. More could have been made out of this.

We also met Lizzy Bennet again - now a fully-fledged 21st century girl, complete with mobile phone and a passion for the Internet. I must say, I rather wish that Gemma Arterton would actually play Elizabeth in a more traditional transposition of Austen's novel. She'd be smashing in the role - a darn sight better than her Tess in Tess of the D'Urbervilles, currently showing on BBC1, in which she is fine enough, but her Elizabeth Bennet really is a missed opportunity.

The same in fact could be said of all the cast in Lost In Austen. There really wasn't a single false note among them, which is a rare occurence. Hugh Bonneville's Mr Bennet was fabulous. Alex Kingston made for an interesting, youthful take on Mrs Bennet. Morvern Christie was a sweet and endearing Jane, and the remaining Bennet sisters were nicely cast too. Guy Henry was a delightfully unctuous, wheedling Mr Collins, while Tom Mison made for a winning Bingley and Tom Riley was fine as Wickham. Elliot Cowan has his fair share of detractors as Mr Darcy, but actually, he did well ... nothing scintillating, but certainly pleasing enough (most especially in his wet shirt ... OK, that was hideously shallow).

It is a shame that ITV can't remake Pride & Prejudice with this same cast and nicely honed production values, (better than the actual Austen adaptations they screened last year). Then again, I mainly enjoyed Lost In Austen, even if it did get very, very silly, and the script creaked horribly in parts, during Episode Four. Amanda's desperation to steer the cast and plot in the same direction as Austen's novel eventually became a little too wearing, but some truly hilarious moments were had along the way.

Surprises all round in third episode of Lost In Austen

ITV's third episode of Lost In Austen was the funniest yet. Amanda Price (Jemima Rooper) has captured the devoted attentions of Mr Darcy - unintentionally of course - and she has found that she loves him in return. But, alas, the poisonous Caroline Bingley has derailed any potential marital happiness by insinuating that Amanda has a nefarious past, and to top it off, Darcy finds Amanda's copy of 'Pride & Prejudice' and accuses her of writing a Roman a Clef, rudely failing to disguise the identities of himself and the Bennets.

This series has prospered by taking a well-loved plot and characters, altering the course of their lives beyond recognition, with the surprising result, that the new plot has become rather gripping, and the characters themselves more and more intriguing.

Surprises reigned in Episode Three. Georgiana Darcy was a sly little snake who had tricked her brother into hating Wickham, who has proved to be an honourable little sod, and a handy friend for Amanda. Caroline Bingley turns out to be a lesbian, despite her vaunted ambitions to wed Darcy and his mountain of money. Mrs Bennet is overcome with remorse for wedding sweet Jane to the abominable (albeit hilarious) Mr Collins. And Bingley is a drunk.

Hugh Bonneville continued to be marvellous as Mr Bennet - now sleeping in his beloved library to escape the hysterics of his family.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh was a formidable characterisation from Lindsey Duncan; snobbish, disdainful and astute.

Meanwhile, Elliot Cowan's Darcy really had a moment to shine - his very own wet shirt scene a la Colin Firth. His Darcy has become a formidable beast (another surprise, frankly); much more multi-layered and disarmingly 'emotional' than, certainly Austen conceived.

I still have lingering doubts about Hooper's Amanda Price; a little too forced and chipper for my liking. But this series has myriad compensations - all of them surprising. And often in a good way.

BBC's Tess proves a turgid tale

As is increasingly the case in the field of text-to-screen adaptation, former adapted works often come to dominate and haunt their successors.

In the case of Thomas Hardy's many works (frequently adapted for film and TV), there have been two definitive Hardy adaptations which overshadow any subsequent attempts to capture the essence of Hardy's rustic melodramas. Both are films: Roman Polanski's 1979 version of Tess, starring a luminous Nastassja Kinski, and John Schlesinger's 1967 Far From the Madding Crowd, offering stellar performances from Julie Christie (Bathsheba Everdene), Alan Bates (Gabriel Oak), Terence Stamp (Sgt. Troy) and Peter Finch (Farmer Boldwood).

Both novels have also been adapted for TV - most recently, Tess in 1998 for ITV, starring Justine Waddell as the tragic heroine, and Far From the Madding Crowd, also in 1998, and again for ITV, with Paloma Baeza in the starring role, supported by Nathaniel Hawthorne as Oak and Jonathan Firth as Sgt. Troy.

The BBC has not been a notable Hardy-adaptor, hence last night's Tess of the D'Urbervilles, written by David Nichols and directed by David Blair, was a fairly unusual venture. The mini-series has been much-heralded, in part because of the latest Brit-IT girl of the silver screen and new Bond Girl, Gemma Arterton, taking on the central role.

In the circumstances, Gemma does fine - although her West country accent grates a little. She makes for a very pretty Tess with a delightful pout - one which even Keira Knightley would be proud of.

And the production is determinedly pretty too, with some lovely landscapes serving as a pleasant backdrop to the increasingly tragic events unfolding before us.

But I still can't shake off the nagging thought that this is BBC Adaptation-by-Numbers: albeit slick, smart, and well-presented.

There are a few pleasant touches. The episode opens and closes with country girls dancing in a circle, symbolising ancient fertility rites, celebrating youthful innocence. Tess is one of the dancers at the opening of the episode, but is excluded by its close, as she is now an unwed mother.

There is also a strong showing from Ian Puleston-Davies as Tess's father John, whose delusions regarding their heritage as descendants of the ancient landed family of the D'Urbervilles, prove to be the catalyst, launching Tess into her own personal tragedy.

We catch an early glimpse of Angel Clare (Eddie Redmayne), Tess's later love, and have prolonged exposure to the amoral cad Alec d'Urberville, played here with weary insouciance by Hans Matheson. Alec entices Tess to his country pile, ostensibly to help out his 'relation', but he has nefarious plans in store for her. He eventually rapes Tess, thus destroying her future.

In truth, however, what should be compelling, atmospheric and prescient, winds up a little perfunctory and disinterested.

Undoubtedly, the BBC is the driving force behind classic screen adaptation for TV. But in this instance, the ITV production of Tess, first broadcast in 1998, is the superior version. Of course, only one episode of the BBC's Tess has been aired, and there are three more episodes to persuade me otherwise.

Even so, I cannot imagine how the BBC's Tess will ever live up to Polanski's Tess, which is deserving of the accolades and fond remembrances lavished on it.

A few false notes but entertaining froth from Lost In Austen's second outing

Just a quick opinion on the second episode of ITV's Lost In Austen, aired on the 10th September. After last week's bright start, we are now fully immersed with Amanda Price in Austenland. Elizabeth Bennet has been banished in perpetuity it seems, to 21st century Hammersmith - until, no doubt, the end of the series.

Lost In Austen remains sparkling, often witty with some nice acting along the way. This week Mr Collins, played by Guy Henry, was the star performer. He was suitably spiderish and unctuous, to an almost queasy degree. His little self-handling habit was aptly stomach-churning.

I'm still not sure about Jemima Rooper's Amanda Price. Her chattering internal voice irritated me, and her constant Thoroughly Modern Miss-iness began to grate on my nerves.

Amanda's constant and desperate drive to steer the Pride & Prejudice plot in the right direction also began to pall. I hardly know how Mr Darcy (Elliot Cowan) tolerated her constant pratings about 'Elizabeth' and there were further jarring moments too, when Amanda bluntly told characters what they were like, based on her reading of Austen's novel. Occasionally this worked well, particularly when she complained that she never really got Miss Bingley's character!

In sum, Lost In Austen's second outing was less impressive than the series' opener - too many false notes and excessive exposition, and an over-flustered heroine sporting a pained grimace as her plans to put the plot right, encountered one dramatic failure after another. But overall, I am enjoying this series more than I thought I would (or should).

Lost In Austen not such a loss at all

I had abysmally low expectations for last night's ITV premiere of Lost In Austen, a four-part serial from writer Guy Andrews. Lost In Austen offers us a rather far-fetched and decidedly kooky tale - 21st century Austen-obsessive Amanda Price (Jemima Rooper), encounters Jane Austen's favourite heroine Elizabeth Bennet in her bathroom, and then enters the world of Pride & Prejudice via a mysterious portal in her shower.

I was sure that this conceit would collapse under the weight of its own silliness within the first fifteen minutes. More fool me!

Lost In Austen proved to be a delightfully frothy and highly amusing wee jaunt, with some neat acting performances and moments of exquisitely-honed dialogue. Sure, the original concept reads like something from Fan Fiction, and I rather fear for the show's success as a result. After all, there can't be that vast an audience who have as intimate a knowledge of Austen's most beloved novel as this series appears to presume. In truth, though, Lost In Austen is mainly targeting viewers who have eagerly consumed the multiple filmic and TV adaptations of Austen's texts. Indeed, the show almost seems to parody, even subvert these adaptations, often to hilarious effect.

There are numerous echoes of the BBC's hugely successful and iconic 1995 production of Pride and Prejudice, which launched Colin Firth's Darcy as a major heart-throb, ranging from similar musical undertones to Amanda Price's quip, on considering her first meeting with Mr Darcy (Elliot Cowan), that he he's no Colin Firth, adding that even Colin Firth's no Colin Firth! Our first shot of Cowan's Darcy is surely another visual joke, as he is seen from behind, broodily staring out of a window at Netherfield Hall. Firth's Darcy was often shot in the same manner, signifying his desire to escape from the narrow-minded confines of the polite drawing-room into the sensual wilds of nature beyond the window-frame - clearly more representative of Andrew Davies, the screenwriter who penned the BBC adaptation, than Jane Austen herself.

The 2002 Working Title film, Pride and Prejudice, is also subtly parodied in Lost In Austen. Again, theme music often bears a distinct resemblance to Dario Marianelli's award-winning score which accompanied the film, and there are strong visual reminiscences.

Lost In Austen wallows unashamedly, with glorious gusto, in its status as Austen rip-off hypertext. Clearly influenced in terms of tone and sensibility by earlier adaptations, there is also a joyous, witting irreverence at play, which is carried off with considerable verve and brio by an excellent cast. Hugh Bonneville as a suitably droll Mr 'Claude' Bennet is exceptional, and he nabs the best lines. Alex Kingston plays his shrill wife, with her notoriously nervous temperament. This Mrs Bennet has a tough-as-nails interior, and gives short shrift to Amanda Price's interloping presence. The Bennet girls are nicely cast, especially Mary, who is almost comically plain. The skittish Lydia (Perdita Weekes) actually resembles her mother, which is a neat bit of casting, as, arguably, Lydia and Mrs Bennet are closest in personality. Charlotte Lucas is brilliantly played here as smarmy and sceptical by Michelle Duncan. Meanwhile, Christina Cole takes on the snidey, 'villainess' role of Caroline Bingley, although I wonder if she might have made a better Jane, here played by Morvern Christie.

Elliot Cowan's Darcy is ridiculously smouldering and aristocratic, to almost comic degree, and Mr Bingley (Tom Mison) is charming and sweet with modern good looks. Unsurprisingly, our thoroughly postmodern heroine Amanda attracts Mr Bingley, thus complicating Austen's plot, where Bingley falls for Jane Bennet - and to make matters worse, a tipsy Amanda also snogs Bingley outside the assembly halls! It's all very, very silly, and hugely entertaining to boot. Another laugh-out-loud moment is when Amanda Price, convinced she is stumbled into a reality TV show (and who can blame her in the circumstances!) 'flashes' Lydia, who is more than a little taken aback.

Gemma Arterton, famously known in the media as the next Bond Girl, plays Elizabeth Bennet - so far little more than 'glimpsed' in Amanda Price's Hammersmith bathroom. We can expect much more, presumably, from her character, in later episodes, as we get to see the adventures of Elizabeth Bennet in the modern world.

Jemima Rooper's Amanda Price is fine enough, although for such a strong showing in most other departments (barring occasional jars in the scripting), Rooper is a slightly weak link. She has the unmistakeable looks and bearing of a 21st century girl - her face is wholly modern. But her acting occasionally borders on 'mugging.'

Even so, this is a fun piece of work, and I look forward to Amanda Price's further adventures in Austen-land.

The BBC's Cranford proves a triumph

Well, having wept my way through the final episode of BBC1's Cranford last night, (I was deeply saddened at the death of Carter, one of my favourite characters), I felt I should write a few paragraphs of heartfelt praise for what has been one of the BBC's most successful and brilliant TV series.

I wasn't over-hopeful about the televising of Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford when it was first announced, even when supplemented by two of Gaskell's novellas, to ensure a little romance (Dr Harrison's troubled courtship of Sophie Hutton) and the moving redemptive arc presented by the story of arch-conservative Lady Ludlow and her relationship with her estate manager.

How wrong I was! First, the screenwriter who adapted Gaskell's works, should have inspired me with sufficient confidence. Heidi Thomas has proven to be one of our foremost writing talents with an increasingly illustrious CV, and Cranford was a highly worthy addition. Thomas's script here was delightfully fluid, cohesive and wonderfully witty. It was also replete with its fair share of moving moments, which often reduced me to a blubbering mess, at least twice per episode.

The second key factor in ensuring Cranford was one of the BBC's most brilliant outings was its extraordinary cast. Judi Dench made for a winsomely endearing Matty Jenkyns, but Cranford was typified by a strong supporting ensemble - hearteningly female-centric and often middle-aged or older. Special mention must go to Eileen Atkins, who was majestic in the role of Deborah Jenkyns - kindly, conservative and thoroughly uptight, a real bastion of Cranford's 'Amazonian' society - and Imelda Staunton was simply fabulous in the comic role of Miss Pole. Her hilarious 'double-take' when catching sight of Mr Holbrook's sewing table in Dr Harrison's drawing room in Episode Four was one of my favourite TV moments of all time. Julia McKenzie was also a welcome supporting comic character as Mrs Forester, and her speech in Episode Five, explaining her fondness for Miss Matty, was one of the most affecting moments in the entire series. Philip Glenister also put in a flawless performance as Carter, Lady Ludlow's estate manager, who is devoted to educating young Harry Gregson.

But it seems almost churlish to pick out any particular standout performances from such a wonderful cast. I cared about each and every character. Each and every storyline. Which is why, amidst the laughs and smiles prompted by so much of the narrative action, there was also so much potential for genuine poignancy and humanity. For example, Deborah Jenkyn's unexpected joining Jessie Brown behind her sister's coffin in Episode One, was such a moment, establishing this series, very quickly, as a classic in the making.

Cranford was equally adept at portraying charming, whimsical fun (for example, the hysterical sequence depicting Mrs Forest's cat eating her prized lace), with darker, heavyweight satire exploring a broad swathe of hot potato topics which dominated mid-Victorian society, including the education of the lower classes, rural poverty and lawlessness, gender roles, and the inexorable advent of modernity, as represented by the railway coming to Cranford and the utilisation of modern medicinal methods by young Dr Harrison.

These themes were all resonant of George Eliot's Middlemarch, which was set some twenty years earlier, and were strongly representative of Gaskell's own writing, which never shied away from the issues dogging her day. Mary Barton, for example, spotlights the trials and tribulations of the Chartist petitioners, while North and South offers a study of industrial unrest in Northern mill towns (notably via a fictionalised version of Manchester). In contrast, and at first glance, Cranford seems to provide a more benign view of society, focusing on the demure, regimented lives of the lady inhabitants of small town England. But this is deceptive. Gaskell is cleverly covering a whole range of topics, albeit with a soft, deft, ultimately feminine and arguably proto-feminist touch - a charge which would have likely horrified Gaskell herself. Still, Heidi Thomas's script has ensured that these issues are elicited, fleshed out, and given full rein in this production.

After the dismal period adaptations broadcast by ITV this year, it was enormously refreshing to finally relax and unwind in the company of a BBC masterclass, reveling in what has proven to be a highly satisfying and successful TV experience, judging by the ratings. Hopefully Heidi Thomas will be gainfully employed in adapting more literary works to screen, as she has taken what might have been viewed as tricky source material, most particularly in view of Cranford's notable lack of 'sexy romance', which is the preferred mainstay of most period drama on TV these days, and penned a classy, engaging narrative, which will endure as an example of one of the BBC's finest for many years to come.

ITV's A Room With A View lacks sparkle

It was a piece of inspired programming from FilmFour surely, to broadcast the 1985 Merchant Ivory version of EM Forster's A Room With A View, just hours before ITV unveiled its own, new adaptation of the much-loved tale, featuring the sensual awakening of young Edwardian Lucy Honeychurch amidst the lush glories of Italy. However, FilmFour's scheduling decision was a poor one for ITV, serving only to highlight the stark difference between the two films. The Merchant Ivory version, which virtually epitomises 1980s Heritage Cinema as a nostalgic, sunkissed fest of chocolate-box prettiness, is rendered an exquisite jewel beside this latest ITV offering, which sadly comes across as bland and depressing, despite some strenuous efforts to inject fresh relevancy and context.

First and foremost, this latest adaptation has been shot in a darker palette compared to the brilliant hues of its Merchant Ivory predecessor. This clearly ensures a more sombre, even melancholy tone, which pervades this production, further encapsulated by an invented framing device, offering us a flash-forwards to 1922 when Lucy Honeychurch returns, solo, to the pensione where she first met her future husband George Emerson. This device moves full-circle, bar a few intrusions into the main narrative, closing the film with Lucy revisiting the cornfield where she and George first kissed, accompanied by - of all people - the Italian coach-driver who first steered the young Lucy towards her lover.

Oddly, Lucy and driver picnic together, hand in hand, reminiscing, although there is an unexpected, even unwelcome romantic frisson between the two, rendered all the more peculiar by the scenes preceding this moment, fading Lucy and George's frenetic honeymoon lovemaking into a ghastly still of George, lifeless on the battlefields of WWI.

In this sense, screenwriter Andrew Davies has certainly wrought a clearcut change between the frothy but warm Merchant Ivory picture and this new version. It has been hailed in the press previews as closer to Forster's intent, but is in itself a deviation from the source. Forster made it clear in an afterword to his novel, that George was a conscientious objector in the war - itself a clear political message if one was genuinely being sought here by the ITV producers. As it stands, George's death seems strangely tacked-on and unnecessarily gloomy, even though, it is obvious that Davies and Nicholas Renton (the tele-film's director) are making a clear statement about the transient nature of the Edwardian fin-de-siecle period - the bucolic calm before the ghastly storm which was soon to embroil Europe, destroying life after life, cruelly ending a multiplicity of love affairs.

This ITV production also chose to make Reverend Mr Beebe's homosexuality a little more explicit by way of a snippet of a scene where Lucy spies Mr Beebe talking to a couple of Italian guys in a shady Florence alleyway - inferring that he is trying to pick them up. Although this scene is subtly rendered and certainly adds to Mr Beebe's characterisation, the moment is slightly ruined by Lucy's clear, though unspoken recognition of the significance of Mr Beebe's actions, as she then appears a lot more worldly wise than would have been the case.

In one other crucial way, the ITV production also differs from the Merchant Ivory film, in that the Emersons - George especially - are shown to be thoroughly lower in class and standing than the Honeychurchs and their ilk. This is an important distinction to make, because Lucy is concerned by her attraction to George, in large part because, in comparison to herself and her class, he is 'common' and works as a clerk for the railways. In the Merchant Ivory production, Julian Sands, while determinedly wooden in his acting abilities, certainly glowed with physical prowess and gilded good looks - appearing every inch the patrician, a far cry from Rafe Spall's cockney characterisation in the ITV production.

But yet again, despite ITV's best attempts to offer us some kind of veracity, a real insight into Lucy's fear of George, Spall's George is uninspiring and altogether charmless. This is a very real shame. In BBC 4's Wide Sargasso Sea, Rafe Spall made for a hugely charismatic young Rochester, but his appeal falters badly here. And as A Room With A View is, foremost, a love story, this failing is particularly affecting.

It doesn't seem fair to draw too many comparisons with the 1985 film in terms of actor choice per role - after all, each new adaptation should be taken as a fresh reading, a novel interpretation of the source material. But the Merchant Ivory film is so powerful a picture, comparisons are inevitable. On just about every level, the ITV tele-film falls short.

Sophie Thompson, for example, is a fine actress, but here, her take on Charlotte Bartlett, when compared to the inimitable Maggie Smith in 1985, is woeful. She stammers and giggles, a cross between her own version of Miss Bates in the 1996 Miramax adaptation of Jane Austen's Emma, and her comedic (and hugely successful) Mary Musgrove in the BBC's 1995 Persuasion (also Austen). As a consequence, her Charlotte Bartlett feels ill-defined and ineffectual.

Timothy Spall is another marvelous actor, but his Mr Emerson feels workmanlike and laboured when compared to Denholm Elliott. Judy Dench in 1985 also made for a better Miss Lavish, the breathlessly excited romantic novelist, compared to Sinead Cusack in 2007. And what was Elizabeth McGovern doing? She might as well have faxed in her performance in the role of Mrs Honeychurch.

For me, the greatest absence was Daniel Day-Lewis as Cecil Vyse - one of my favourite comic acting performances of all time. Sure, he was a parodic figure of fun, and Laurence Fox's latest version offers, arguably, more of a genuine romantic choice for Lucy. But, boy, was Day-Lewis missed! I could hardly bear to watch Fox. Rather than an effete, book-loving smarm, Fox came across as someone desperate to play a 'lad', and bore the air of someone who was injured, and therefore unable to play tennis with Freddie, rather than someone who would rather immerse himself in a book.

As for Lucy herself. Elaine Cassidy was absolutely fine in the role. She lacked the arch sweetness of Helena Bonham-Carter, but she acted rather than pouted, which could only be a good thing. Except ... I have actually grown a lot fonder of Bonham-Carter's stilted performance over the years - and now respect her acting talents too - but Cassidy certainly brought more innate drama to Miss Honeychurch. And yet I still missed the 1985 Lucy - buttoned-up and wide-eyed with surprise at the unexpected emotions roiling through her. In the ITV production, Cassidy was a little too shrewish, too sharp and far too knowing - especially sexually, as made evident by the blatant ogling between Lucy and George.

Nicholas Renton tried to demonstrate Lucy's rejection of overt sensuality in alternative ways. There is a prolonged sequence where she gawps at the naked forms of the classical statues thronging Florence's piazzas. The scene, which seems to be a direct smash and grab from Joe Wright's 2005 Pride and Prejudice, where Elizabeth Bennet finally confronts her erotic nature and her attraction to Darcy while gazing at naked statues, is intended to signify Lucy's own sensual awakening, which she then markedly rejects when she refuses to buy a postcard depicting the familiar naked form of Michelangelo's 'David'.

Overall, direction was perfectly serviceable, and there were a couple of noteworthy performances, in addition to Cassidy herself. Timothy West's pompous Reverend Eager was spot-on and Mark Williams was fine as Reverend Mr Beebe - a less hearty and rather more serious portrayal compared to Simon Callow's brash buffoonery in 1985, although there was a gently wrought sensitivity hovering just beneath the surface of Callow's Beebe which was enormously endearing.

Italy made for a lovely location of course, although this was a shadowy Florence and Santa Croce was remarkably devoid of crowds. Summer Street was a pleasantly pastoral English locale, and we lost London altogether, meaning we lost the delightful irony of Cecil smugly enticing the Emersons to Summer Street himself, after encountering them in the Italian art section of the National Gallery. We gained Rome, however, when Lucy and Charlotte visit the Vyses.

The 1985 film placed greater emphasis, it seemed, on the aesthetic qualities of Forster's work - both in a filmic, visual sense and also through its interpretation of the novel, stressing the difference between those characters that languished indoors - by extension more inward-looking, bookish and repressed - and those who ventured more outdoors, indicating a more forward, progressive nature, thrusting towards modernity rather than the past and tradition. The Emersons, Freddy and Lucy are shown to revel in the outdoors, and Lucy is peeved that propriety has cooped her inside more than she would like.

The 2007 version seemed to place less emphasis on this particular binary, focusing, laudably it should be said, on the class differences between the Emersons and the remaining cast (except the Italian coach-driver, although his inflated role only serves to enhance the theme of inter-class reconciliation). There is one particular scene where Miss Lavish and Charlotte Bartlett hoot with disdainful laughter at George Emerson's professional association with the railways. Their snobbery is unseemly, and Lucy herself is disgusted.

It is a shame that with so much wanting to be 'said' in this production, the sum of its parts is a letdown; a bland, slightly miserable potage. There is a melancholy mood throughout, which does little to engage the viewer, most especially as this sobriety isn't even juxtaposed with sunny, sensual warmth, which would have served to enhance the narrative's poignancy. The musical scoring from Gabriel Yared has been much-praised in reviews, but the plaintive piano pieces only added to the uneasy sense of melancholia in a way that depressed rather than enlightened.

It is unnerving that the sparkling technicolour Merchant Ivory production, glorying in its sentimentality and featuring the thrilling, resonating strains of Puccini's 'Chi Bel Sogno' from La Rondine as the lovers first kiss, is ultimately more poignant for me than ITV's darker, one-note production, which strives far too hard to emphasise that the much-fabled halycon pre-war days of Edwardian England were soon to draw to a horrific and shocking close with WWI. The glowing lustre of the Merchant Ivory production expressed this in less stark terms and without the unnecessary addition of George's staring corpse, abandoned in no-man's land, because the beauty that film captures is unreal, removed and wistful. Forever lost, because we know the 20th century was a brutal place, a cruel time, and that the sharp pangs of nostalgia we experience are ultimately for something that was never really there.

A Room With A View to air on ITV on Nov 4th

ITV's adaptation of EM Forster's A Room With A View is set to air November 4th, on ITV1 at 9.00pm. The trailer looks promising enough - lots of high drama and high octane kissing action, but definitely darker than the famous 1985 Merchant Ivory version, which launched Helena Bonham-Carter's acting career. I loved the earlier film, despite its being a piece of frothy, nostalgic whimsy, set in sun-soaked Edwardian England and a gloriously luminous Italy, and even with an abysmal Julian Sands as Lucy Honeychurch's young love interest, George Emerson - the eponymous Merchant Ivory 'heritage' film. Almost defining a genre unto itself.

I'm looking forward to Elaine Cassidy in the main role. She is a very fine actress, if a little older than I would have hoped for the youthful Lucy. I especially loved her work in the BBC adaptation of Sarah Walter's Fingersmith. Rafe Spall should make for an interesting George Emerson, and I look forward to seeing his real-life father Timothy Spall playing his fictional father too. I particularly welcome Sophie Thompson, a splendid actress, in the role of Aunt Charlotte. (Although she has a lot to do to face off the wonderful Maggie Smith).

In truth, this version really needs to give it some welly to face off the 1985 version, which never fails to delight.

The ITV production has Andrew Davies as the screenwriter (no surprises there) and Nicholas Renton directing.

Davies set to adapt erotic thriller for ITV

Andrew Davies must be the busiest writer in Britain. ITV has commissioned him to pen an adaptation of the modern, erotic thriller Sleep with Me by Joanna Briscoe, according to MediaGuardian. The two-part mini-series will be produced by Independent Clerkenwell Films. Davies is also working on a tele-film adaptation of EM Forster's A Room with a View for ITV, due to air in 2008.

Davies has also been busy scripting productions for the BBC. These include Sense and Sensibility, yet another Austen adaptation, set to air this Autumn, plus Fanny Hill, John Cleland's racy 18th century novel, which is to be broadcast on BBC4. Davies is also reported to be working on a new BBC series of Dicken's Little Dorrit, emulating the soap opera style of the highly successful Bleak House, and is also to pen a single 90-minute drama of James Hawes's Speak for England, to air on BBC2.

What went wrong with Austen adaptations?

Briefly reflecting on the debacle that was the ITV Jane Austen season - excusing to a slight extent their version of Northanger Abbey - I am bewildered at what seems to be a dramatic decline in quality text-to-screen adaptations of works by Jane Austen. For sure, the ITV adaptations were very much a step backwards, after what can only be described as an illustrious era for Austen adaptation in the 1990s.

I recently re-watched the 1995 Sense and Sensibility and was shocked at the difference in class between this twelve year old film and the recent ITV adaptations. OK, I realise that Sense and Sensibility was a cinematic film with a much larger production budget, and a a more impressive slate of acting talent on board to boot, but the differences went deeper. There was a genuine attempt to 'interpret' Austen's text, to offer a fresh reading of her work. This was apparent in both Emma Thompson's script, which utilised, for example, an embellished characterisation of young Margaret Dashwood to express rebellious feminine sentiment, and also in Ang Lee's extraordinarily beautiful and strongly-crafted direction, as throughout the production he strives to recreate scenes from 'Vermeer'. Everything about this film is pitch-perfect - something I have only come to realise in recent years, most noticeably in contrast to other Austen adaptations.

In that same year of course, we also had the BBC's famous Pride and Prejudice, which rejuvenated the period drama genre and is still a top-selling BBC product worldwide. And we also had, from BBC Films, a filmic version of Persuasion, which is superior in every department to ITV's latest, and lesser, offering. Again, this film actually had something to say. Nick Deare and Roger Michel (an enormously talented director) offered us a grittier, rain-sodden Persuasion, suffused with wistful emotion, never shying from the mental cruelties inflicted on poor Anne. The dialogue, the direction, all were handled deftly, smartly, and the acting performances were top-notch throughout.

The following two years witnessed an Emma-fest: two versions directly transposed from Austen's novel, and another, Clueless from Amy Heckerling, offering us a modern-day translation of the action to 'chichi' Beverley Hills. Clueless was especially impressive, but the two 'Emmas' were both 100% superior to the recent ITV fare - and notably the 1997 Kate Beckinsale version of Emma, with a script from Andrew Davies, was itself an ITV production. Again though, it had something to say. There was a genuine attempt to instill a sense of context to the narrative action, with scenes inserted which showed us the rustic poor of Highbury. Servants too were highlighted, ensuring we could never avoid an awareness of how the gentry of Regency England were able to live their lives of elegant ease. The Hollywood Emma starring Gwyneth Paltrow, was a little more pastiched than parodic, but was an exercise in delightful, aesthetically pleasing filmmaking, all the same.

Unlike many Austen fans, I also enjoyed Patricia Rozema's Mansfield Park in 1999. This adaptation really did have an awful lot to say - too much for some, who felt Rozema's wild deviations from the original text were an 'adaptation' too far. I disagree with this approach (although I can understand the sentiments expressed), because I like to see texts re-interpreted, re-created, in new and exciting ways. This was also a visually pleasing film, well thought-out, nicely acted.

There has been little to cheer in the field of Austen adaptation since then. Working Title's Pride and Prejudice (2005) was easy on the eye and pleasing in many departments, but it lacked substance. As for ITV's lacklustre offerings, these were frankly depressing. These were lazy adaptations, with little to nothing to say. They were adaptation for adaptation's sake - a crude attempt to accrue cultural capital for the ITV channel, better noted for its populist fare. I have higher hopes for the BBC's Sense and Sensibility, airing this Autumn, partly because Andrew Davies is at the helm (screenwriting), and unlike many, I strongly approve of his adaptation skills. Of course there have been some duds along the way (to be expected in a career as long and productive as Davies's), but he has also brought us some of TV's best adaptations, including Bleak House (2005), The Way We Live Now (2001) and Pride and Prejudice (1995).

So what has changed in the field of Austen adaptation? Why is mediocrity the order of the day? Is this a problem with text-to-screen adaptation in general (a more involved and contentious debate of course)? Or is there something awry with TV and Filmmaking? (Even more contentious!).

Certainly there appears to be less attempt, with recent Austen adaptations, to re-interpret the source text, to say something new and different. Is this because we are Austen-ed out? I can't quite see this - there are multiple schools of critical thought alive to her literary texts, why can't this be replicated in the world of TV and Cinema drama? Or, is it the fault of over-commodification of the Austen 'brand'? There is thus no need to 'challenge' audiences who are seeking simple entertainment and easily digestible cultural capital, rather than seeking out fresh and illuminating narrative experiences (or so the TV/Film-makers would presume). Worryingly, the standards of 'aesthetic' filmaking appear to have dropped dramatically (excusing Joe Wright's Pride and Prejudice, which is a literal visual feast of a film). Arguably, of course, ITV simply cannot 'do' period drama - it lacks an eye for the genre, although not all BBC adaptations have been as adventurous and slick in their production values as, for example, the corporation's triumphant Bleak House in 2005 - which to my mind remains the benchmark in quality adaptation.

Only half-persuaded by ITV's Persuasion

Sorry for the late posting of this review - I have been plagued by technical gremlins all day!

What a shame …. ITV’s Persuasion started out so promisingly, but in its ‘bold’ attempt to differentiate itself from its (superior) 1995 BBC predecessor, this version was rendered something of a hodge-podge.

What I find most concerning in Adaptation, is where a production is clearly ‘unmotivated’- in the sense that the over-arching directorial vision, is not pertaining to some key new reading of the source text, which might perhaps offer us a fresh, even challenging new perspective. But huge changes are wrought nevertheless – and for no clear, apparent purpose.

This was most definitely the case with ITV’s Persuasion, which did not seem to have any specific interpretative steer in the hands of screenwriter Simon Burke or director Adrian Shergold.

Indeed, the primary focus of this production – and the same can be said perhaps of the ITV’s Billie Piper-starring Mansfield Park which opened the ITV Jane Austen season – appeared to be the casting of the main female protagonist. Producer David Snodin has commented that recruiting Sally Hawkins to play Anne Elliot was the most important first step in this adaptation, and that everything else was then built around her. Securing Hawkins, who is one of our greatest up and coming actresses, was undeniably a coup. As was signing up Spooks star Rupert Penry-Jones as her love interest Captain Frederick Wentworth, the man Anne refused eight years previous, based on faulty advice, but she has loved him ever since, and regrets that fateful decision.

Certainly both actors have rewarded the Persuasion production team with fine, nuanced performances - although Hawkins's Anne, while capturing her maturity and sensitivity, is a little more passive than I expected. However, from an utterly shallow perspective, Penry-Jones makes for a very fetching Austen hero.

But other acting performances were far less assured. Amanda Hale as Anne’s irritating sister Mary Musgrove, was particularly strange, seeming to combine a very third-rate impression of Sophie Thompson, who made for a much better Mary in the BBC’s 1995 Persuasion, mixed with the odd physical quirks and mannerisms of Julie Walters’s Mrs Overall from Acorn Antiques. Meanwhile, Sam Hazeldine who played Mary’s long-suffering husband Charles, tried to play this for laughs, and failed abominably. (It’s wrong of course to keep comparing this adaptation with its BBC predecessor, but Simon Russell Beale, who is one of Britain’s most brilliant actors, made for such a wonderful Charles). The remaining Musgroves were passable. Certainly Louisa and Henrietta, Charles’s giggly, flighty sisters, (Jennifer Higham and Rosamund Stephen) were as giggly and flighty as could possibly be – but I did feel the actresses were each cast as the wrong sister.

The Elliot family were quite splendid in this production. Anthony Head was a perfectly pompous and vain Sir Walter Elliot, obsessed with appearances – especially his own. He was the standout scene-stealer in this Persuasion’s supporting cast. Julia Davis made for a delightfully snidey and arrogant Elizabeth Elliot, whose nose was pushed firmly out of joint by the attentions of her cousin, William Elliot, to ‘plain’ Anne. William Elliot was played here by Tobias Menzies, who is an actor I enjoy immensely. But I had a mixed response to his performance here. He was suitably smug and creepy, but also charismatic – very much so in fact. But at times I found his delivery a little one-paced and flat – although his proposal to Anne was one of the high points of the drama. Unfortunately, the adaptors fail to make much of the first time he encounters Anne, on the wind-swept Cobb at Lyme. This is a turning point in the novel, as Wentworth observes Elliot's admiration of Anne, and perceives for himself, her 'bloom', thus re-igniting his passionate love for her.

As for the remaining cast, performances which warrant mention are Peter Wight as a hearty Admiral Croft, Joseph Mawle as a pleasant Captain Harville and Alice Krige, (the Borg Queen no less), who put in a strong performance as Anne’s kindly but snobbish godmother Lady Russell.

Adrian Shergold’s direction was both one of the production’s strong points, and yet at times, a genuine weakness. I rather liked the fly-on-the-wall intensity of much of the hand-held camera-work. This contemporary ‘docu-drama’ style can be horribly over-used in some productions, but Shergold maintained just the right balance here, ensuring the audience had close proximity to the heroine, charting her feelings, her moods, her observations as someone flung to the margins for most of the action. At one point, we are even aware of Anne’s breathing, as she wanders forlornly through the shadowy corridors of Kellynch in the opening sequence.

However, Shergold also over-played this closeness. At times, the camera was positioned too close to Anne’s face for comfort. The romantic denouement is a classic example, when we wait an age for the lovers to finally kiss, and for a single tear to roll sadly down Anne’s cheek – indeed, we waited so long, that I unthinkingly began inspecting Sally Hawkins’s dentistry, as the camera continued to linger on her face, mouth a-gape.

Another of Shergold’s initially promising directorial tricks sours a little as the production progresses. To ensure the audience is better acquainted with Anne’s thoughts and feelings, Anne is seen to write her journal throughout, accompanied by voice-over, and as a parting shot, she then stares full-faced, straight into the camera. This Brechtian device, aiming to engage the audience, soon began to grate, expanding beyond her journal-writing to little sidelong glances, shared with us throughout the action. Notably, Anne’s voice-over whilst writing her journal suddenly ceased, however, once she was reconciled with Wentworth, signifying perhaps her own sense of closure, her recovery from the grief and confusion at her loss in love, which had dogged her throughout the narrative.

Shergold also includes a slightly cheesy moment. During a visit by the Musgroves and herself to the Crofts at Kellynch Hall, Anne Elliot is playing the piano, illuminated by myriad candles. Captain Wentworth is then shown to be staring at her, alone, in stern, reflective silence – and for some time too. She looks again and he has disappeared. Was this a vision or reality?

Even though Shergold appears to favour close, even claustrophobic camera-work, at other appropriate points in the narrative, Shergold occasionally deploys wider, establishment shots, and enjoys using the camera to peer over banisters, to hover above its characters, and even to encircle them, as when the finally reunited lovers dance together on the lawns of Kellynch Hall – which in this version has been awarded to Anne as a wedding present by Captain Wentworth – although it is quite remarkable that a naval captain had won THAT much ‘Spanish Gold’ in the course of his naval adventures. And what about the estate having been entailed? How come it was ever sold at all? Oh well …

Shergold often utilised a suitably chill, stony-grey palette of colours throughout the production, aided and abetted by the dank British weather which appears to have pervaded Persuasion, but fortunately to good effect. There is an Autumnal feel to Austen’s final novel, and the ambience of this production certainly highlighted this. Some interior shots, however, were a little too well lit, most especially at the Kellynch dinner party, hosted by the Crofts, which eschews the soft-toned candlelit effect most often utilised more faithfully in period dramas.

Locations were very well chosen in this production. It was nice to see Bath in all its splendours – most especially an early Bath scene when Anne speaks with her cousin William at the Pump Room. There is perhaps a little over-reliance on the camera panning the grand, sweeping curve of the Royal Crescent, as a convenient synecdoche for quintessential Bath. But overall, Bath is nicely rendered, and again, is washed through with drizzly British weather to suitably melancholic effect. Kellynch Hall (Neston Hall)and Uppercross (Sheldon Manor) are also nicely represented, but the crowning achievement in terms of location is actually the usage of Lyme and the Cobb, amidst thrashing sea-storms, which must have made for a hair-raising filming experience for the actors and crew, amidst high winds and dramatic crashing waves.

The real problems with this adaptation, as stated earlier, reside in the overall narrative structure, which deviates a little too sharply, but with no true purpose, away from Austen’s original text.

For example, having built up Anne as our primary standpoint character throughout, there is an unexpected and not entirely welcome switch just past the midway point, to a vague attempt at a ‘two-hander’ as we are suddenly made privy to Captain Wentworth’s thoughts and opinions. This is achieved with two scenes set in Lyme, once Anne is in Bath, where Wentworth converses with his friend Captain Harville about how he has inadvertently become ‘attached’ to Louisa Musgrove, in the eyes of others, due to his amicable attentions towards her. Indeed, a marriage is expected by all. A later scene, on the sea-drenched Cobb, has Wentworth bemoan to Harville, how he might have missed his chance with the woman he truly loves, who is ‘perfection’ itself. Harville, recognising his feelings for Anne, assures him that Louisa has now found love elsewhere – with Captain Benwick. He then suggests Wentworth head to Bath, and Anne.

In such a way, Captain Wentworth’s feelings for Anne are made abundantly clear at a much earlier stage than the novel, which only follows Anne’s consciousness, as we only learn of Wentworth’s story once he tells Anne his version of events. Arguably, such certainty reduces the suspense, and slightly cheapens our ‘closeness’ to Anne, which has been meticulously built up throughout, as we are suddenly in the vantage position of holding more information than our heroine. It is a puzzling and surprising position to be in at this juncture, and seemingly at odds with the overall trend of this adaptation, which is to offer us such close communion with our heroine.

Of course, by introducing Wentworth’s feelings about Anne with these invented scenes, the writer is ensuring we are not faced with excess exposition at the close of the film – but part of the ‘joy’ of Persuasion is our journeying throughout this love story with Anne, uncertain, questioning, sometimes hopeful, other times cast down. We are firmly on board her emotional rollercoaster. Like many of Austen’s love stories, there is also an element of ‘detective work’ involved too, as we try to ‘read’ the hero, second-guess his feelings, his intentions towards the heroine.

In 1995, Andrew Davies orchestrated in Pride and Prejudice a classic two-hander, ensuring abundant ‘extra’ Darcy, to ensure the audience warmed towards this seemingly cold, buttoned-up man – but he had the space and the time to integrate these fresh aspects of the narrative. A 90-minute tele-film does not have that luxury, and is more sharply-focused if, as in Austen’s novel, the narrative sticks closely to a single protagonist.

A further major change implemented in this production, is the utilisation of Austen’s original but discarded ending. Here, Captain Wentworth is assigned the onerous task by Admiral Croft, of asking Anne whether she is likely to marry William Elliot, as suggested by popular speculation, as if the newly-weds are to take possession of Kellynch Hall, then the Crofts need to seek out new lodgings. Anne’s answer, negating any attachment to Mr Elliot, leads to Wentworth’s proposal. In Austen’s original, this takes place at the Croft’s rented residence in Bath. Here, to ensure added suspense, the conversation takes place amidst the furore of the Musgroves arriving at the Elliot house on Camden Place. The lovers are thus interrupted before Wentworth can fully react to the news that Anne is free. He hastens off.

We then have a ludicrous, even farcical chain of events. Anne chases after him, but is first stopped by her supposedly invalid school-friend Mrs Smith with a rambling explanation of Mr William Elliot’s evil designs against her family. This revelation is swiftly cast aside, and never revisited, serving only the singular purpose of ‘obstructing’ Anne’s path to Wentworth. She then runs to Harville’s lodgings, has a conversation with Captain Harville, and is given a letter from Wentworth, in which he proposes. It is hard to see when he had the time to write this letter. Was it pre-written? Because surely he could not have belted home, written the letter and shot out again, in just the time it takes for Anne to run after him, even with a glancing distraction from Mrs Smith.

Anne then runs to the Pump Rooms, (by now her chasing about like a wild hare has become quite exhausting for the viewer, if only through mocking laughter), where she encounters the Crofts, then runs back home, where apparently Wentworth has since headed, begging the question why he ever left in the first place. This renders Anne’s exertions completely unnecessary, merely a spurious addition to the plot, and a desperate attempt to inject a level of uncertainty, of delayed gratification, to their romance. Of course Anne and Wentworth are united, as we always knew they would be, particularly since we are aware of his deep feelings for her, as much as we know the heartbreak she has suffered over her love for him.

Austen’s favoured ending was so much better, and it is unfathomable why this set of adaptors chose to ignore it. Perhaps the adaptors wanted a more direct personal confrontation between the lovers? Hence he is cold and suspicious but melted by her revelation that she does not love Mr Elliot. In the original, of course, the romantic climax is ushered in by Anne famously conversing with Captain Harville, about the ‘constancy’ of love, as experienced by men and women. It is a wonderful, intense passage, and plotwise, hugely important too, as Captain Wentworth overhears it all whilst writing a letter, and is deeply moved. He then writes a letter to Anne, which he ensures she reads, while he leaves the room, waiting for her response in the street.

In the ITV Persuasion, Captain Wentworth never gets to hear Anne’s speech, as it is moved backwards through time to a conversation she has instead, at Lyme, with Captain Benwick, whose fiancée had died the year before. It is awkwardly inserted, clearly because the speech itself is so iconic, so suggestive of Persuasion, and omitting it would be akin to cutting ‘To Be or Not To Be’ in Hamlet. Meanwhile Wentworth laughs merrily, completely oblivious to Anne’s heart-felt comments.

A further unproductive change between text and screen includes, (as in the BBC 1995 production), a scene set in Bath, when Anne Elliot is seen to literally chase Captain Wentworth when he quits a concert they are both attending, in disgust, once he has heard the rumour of Anne’s ‘closeness’ to her cousin William. I certainly don’t object to Anne’s pursuit of Wentworth on grounds of propriety – although no well brought-up woman would behave in this manner in Austen’s day – but adaptors miss a trick here, as the concert scene, as written by Austen, is packed full of nuance, suspense and misunderstanding.

And oddly, here is yet another ITV Austen adaptation which closes with the leading pair waltzing together. It’s a slightly silly and trite ending, for what should be one of literature’s greatest love stories. Indeed, to my mind, and I’m probably in a minority here, this is Austen’s most resonant and lovely romance of all.

I am not one for close textual fidelity in adaptation, but I do strongly believe that any wholesale changes or plot distortions must be in service to a wider interpretative concept, while preserving narrative cohesion, dynamism and momentum. This is why I can accept the huge changes wrought in Patricia Rozema’s much-reviled 1999 Mansfield Park, for example, as I can see that there is a directorial vision guiding this production, ensuring a rationale for these drastic alterations, even if, as has been subsequently shown, they have proved unpopular with much of the core Austen fanbase. This is brave direction, in my opinion, and successful or otherwise, is an important ingredient in text-to-screen adaptation, ensuring the genre maintains vitality and verve.

ITV’s Persuasion failed dramatically in this regard. This was an attractive film, but it lacked heart and lacked interpretative direction.

For certain, Hawkins and Penry-Jones cannot be faulted for their rendition of this love story. I enjoyed the subtle chemistry between them. I particularly liked the moment when Louisa suffers her ‘fall’ at the Cobb. Anne and Wentworth both work together in this instance; there is a moment of unspoken, lucid communication between them. Even better was their first unexpected meeting in Bath when they discuss Louisa’s impending marriage to Benwick, and he reveals his inferior opinion of Louisa. There is a delightful and touching closeness of minds between Anne and Wentworth in this scene, a natural intimacy, masked as it is by insecurity, uncertainty. It is acted beautifully and meaningfully.

The key problems with this production are most definitely not then due to the leading actors, but are instead inherent in the unnecessary alterations to the narrative structure, which weaken the adaptation’s dramatic effect. The William Elliot/Mrs Clay conspiracy is underplayed and under-explained, but this is partly because Austen herself seemed a little uncertain in this regard too. Even so, Mrs Smith’s sudden recuperation is mind-boggling, (or perhaps is meant as an astonishing proof of the efficacy of Bath’s waters). The 'villainous' subplot was thus used only as a temporary roadblock – and an extremely ineffective one at that – to Anne’s romantic resolution.

The ITV Jane Austen season has been a decidedly mixed bag. I had hoped that Persuasion would be my pick of the three (Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion), and even had high hopes of just this, during the first forty minutes or so of transmission. But the narrative felt rushed and uneven, and some of the acting amongst the supporting cast, was decidedly below par. It was stacks better, of course, than ITV’s dreadful Mansfield Park, but I would have to say that Davies’s Northanger Abbey, for all its many faults, was probably the best of a pretty mediocre bunch. ITV’s reputation for period drama has always been seen as middling, in comparison to the BBC’s super-confident, slick output, which has ensured the BBC brand is synonymous with quality in this genre. The BBC’s position as the foremost producer of heritage drama certainly remains undinted, if not heightened, as a result of ITV’s foray into this territory.

First impression of ITV's Persuasion

I will write a full review later, but will say very briefly: there were some things to admire in this production - most particularly Rupert Penry-Jones as Captain Wentworth, (indeed, two hours simply watching him sit alone in an empty room would have sufficed) - and the first 45 minutes were very nicely-done. But there were some glaring and important changes from Austen's original, which altered the dynamics of the narrative considerably, and some of the acting performances here were highly disappointing, particularly Charles and Mary Musgrove (Sam Hazeldine and Amanda Hale), and I wasn't over-impressed either by the giddy Miss Musgroves, Louisa and Henrietta (Jennifer Higham and Rosamund Stephen). Much better was Sir Walter Elliot (Anthony Head) and Elizabeth Elliot (Julia Davis). As for Anne - my favourite of all Austen heroines - she is played nicely here by Sally Hawkins, who is a very fine actress.

I don't think this was anywhere near as good as the BBC production 1995 - although Rupert Penry-Jones more than compensated here in lieu of Ciaran Hinds. Indeed, there was no comparison.


Anyway, much, much more to come - am now watching the Behind the Scenes documentary, about how these Austen films on ITV were made.

Charming Northanger Abbey enlivens ITV Jane Austen Season

Northanger Abbey is one of Austen's lesser-read novels, which is a shame, because it really is boundless fun. Perhaps, some could claim, this is because from a romantic point of view, there is less popular excitement engendered by its subsequently less famous central love-match, in comparison say to Darcy and Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice, whose intellectual sparring has rendered them almost iconic in Romantic Fiction. Arguably too, Northanger Abbey is treated (perhaps unfairly) as a 'light-weight' compared to Austen's more mature works, such as Emma, Mansfield Park and the touching emotional resonance of 'mature' love between Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth in Persuasion.

Northanger Abbey can be read as a light-hearted parody of the Gothic Romance literary genre, which was hugely popular in Austen's day, and is lampooned mercilessly and wittily through the muddled adventures of the novel's sweet, naieve young heroine, Catherine Morland's over-attachment to these sensationalist narratives. Catherine's voracious consumption of these overblown adventures, horrors and seductions of her day, leads to unexpected complications and confusions in her own personal life, as fiction merges with reality in her mind, and she almost loses the man she loves, Henry Tilney, as a consequence.

This is foremost a story about a teenager on the cusp of womanhood, and is consequently alive with the foibles and fancies of the young generation of this period. Yet true to Austen there are always serious material concerns pervading the narrative. Marriage prospects, fortune (and lack of it), marital contentment and family dysfunction are key themes. The comedic elements keep this novel from straying too far into the harsh realities of these dark underpinnings; the tone is light and airy. We move through the sometimes seedy world of Bath - full of scoundrels and adventurers - to the austere regime of Northanger Abbey, always in the charming and endearing company of Catherine, who fails to see ill in others, because she herself is so pure-hearted: indeed, this is the quality that the more world-weary and experienced Henry Tilney falls for.

Prior to the new ITV version, there has only been one adaptation of Northanger Abbey - a tele-film aired in 1986 (see Screen Stories review: Firth makes for a 'super-creepy' Austenian hero in Northanger Abbey; the 2nd review), starring Peter Firth as Henry, with a script from Maggie Wadey. This production truly is a horror-show, a failure on every front.

Suffice it to say, ITV's new Northanger Abbey is much, much better - indeed, it is a vast improvement on the dire Mansfield Park (also scripted by Maggie Wadey) we had to suffer last week.

The scriptwriter for this new Northanger Abbey is the hugely capable and experienced 'adaptor laureate' himself, Andrew Davies, and his contribution proves, yet again, that the screenplay in any given TV drama or film is its bedrock, its life-force. With Davies's well-constructed script and surefooted re-casting of Austenian dialogue at its foundations, Northanger Abbey is a production at ease with itself, confident of its pacing, its plotting, its ability to portray credible characterisation.

As one would expect, there are some changes between the source text and adaptation, but in this instance, we never lose a sense of narrative cohesion or find the pace faltering. For example, in the novel, whilst at Northanger Abbey, Catherine visits Henry's parsonage at Woodston, where General Tilney is constantly and pointedly recommending the house as a future marital home. In Davies's screenplay, Woodston is now viewed from afar, whilst Henry and Catherine are riding - it is significant enough that he shows her his home, as by this point the viewer is in no doubt about his feelings for Catherine. Hence it is a convenient edit.

In general, any changes, omissions or deviations are in service here to the plot, ensuring a seamless yet succinct flow. And indeed, Northanger Abbey, of all Austen's novels, does not seem to suffer from being a tele-film, rather than a more drawn-out mini-series, as the plot is never too convoluted - which begs the question why this novel is not a favourite of adaptors.

Davies, of course, has added a fair few of his own distinctive trademark touches too of course, enlivening Catherine's inner life with visual dream-sequences, often of a sexual nature. Catherine's imaginary world is enhanced by her reading works such as The Mysteries of Udolpho, a best-seller of her day, by Ann Radcliffe. But Davies also emphasises The Monk, a Gothic tale of terror, seduction and incest, by Matthew Lewis, which is more strongly sexualised than Radcliffe's more ladylike works.

In this production, Catherine's flighty, flirty friend Isabella Thorpe recommends The Monk to Catherine, recalling the Magic Branch which melts walls presaging erotic experiences, and Catherine is soon seen devouring The Monk by candlelight, gripped by its racy contents. Her dreams become more intense than ever: herself as a Gothic heroine in flight from terrifying forces, and the strongly sexual element of The Monk ensures that there is an erotic charge to her dreams and fantasies. In particular, Catherine is seen to indulge in a fantasy while bathing. The walls, adorned with floral wallpaper, writhe and melt into a sylvan woodland scene where Henry Tilney, notably in full parson's uniform, steps forth, beckoning her from the bath, naked. He admires her naked form, calling her 'God's creation'- but somehow his pious words only serve to highlight the very unholiness of her thoughts.

Of course a nice young girl like Catherine Morland, or even the capricious Isabella Thorpe, would not have been reading The Monk - it was far too saucy. But it is an interesting and fitting addition in this modern adaptation, as it allows Davies to indulge playfully in Catherine's imaginary world, to enliven her erotic awakening, within the spirit of the novel's focus on the perils of the Romantic Gothic genre and its deleterious effects on impressionable young women.

In true Davies' style too, we have an unseen 'romantic' encounter, now brought to life - much as he did with Lydia and Wickham in his 1995 Pride and Prejudice -- as we are allowed to witness Isabella Thorpe, in lonely post-coital discontent in bed, asking Captain Frederick Tilney if they are now engaged. His brusque response is callous, cold. Despite her follies, which are numerous and grating, an iota of sympathy is even elicited here for foolish young Isabella.

A narratorial voice-over is used as a framing-device in this production, swiftly introducing viewers to Catherine from her baptism through to her growing into a rollicking, pretty teenager, ripe for her adventures as a 'heroine'. After all, as the dry, witty voice (in all likelihood supposed to be Austen herself) tells us: 'When a young lady is to be a heroine, something must and will happen to throw adventure in her way.' Catherine is thus launched into the adult world of Bath with her neighbours, Mr and Mrs Allen, as chaperones. The tele-film closes too with this narratorial voice, offering a neat summation of events - Catherine's happy marriage and entrance into motherhood, and the boost in good fortune for Eleanor Tilney and her newly titled and wealthy husband. Normally I dislike a voice-over framing-device, but it works well here.

Aesthetically this production is serviceable if not sparkling. There is something a little muddied and yellow in the cinematography - it lacks pristine sharpness. Certainly these two ITV Austen events have not shared the high quality production values, innovative cinematography and clarity of aesthetic vision enjoyed by recent BBC period dramas such as Bleak House and even Jane Eyre. Perhaps Persuasion will be an improvement on this front next week. Is it a question of budget, of experience and expertise, of the willingness to take risks without compromising the period 'feel' of a production? Similarly, musical scoring in this production is fairly predictable and uninspiring but never actually jarring. In terms of direction too, Jon Jones is competent here, but never exciting. (I felt much the same about his BBC adaptation of Robert Harris's Archangel too).

There has been mild controversy about the locations chosen for this Northanger Abbey. Although much of the action takes place in fashionable Bath, here it is Dublin, with its Georgian architecture, which acts as a stand-in - reportedly because Ireland was a cheaper shooting location. Does Northanger Abbey need Bath to truly bring it to life? Probably not, but it might have been nice. The production notably steers clear of tell-tale wide-lens establishment shots, for those who might recognise the many references to real world locations in the script (and obviously to a greater extent in the novel itself).

As for General Tilney's Northanger Abbey itself, this is not an abbey but a hulking Gothic castle (Dublin Castle no less) complete with Disneyland turrets. It's all a little overblown. And of course, the tele-film - as the novel - indulges in its moments of pathetic phallacy. Timely thunder-storms, flashes of lightening, rain storms all contribute to the brooding, threatening atmosphere of Northanger Abbey. It's all delightfully silly. More fitting are the gentle, sunny scenes at Fullerton, the Morland home, with an ivy-clad parsonage (of very grand proportions it must be said) while Henry's parsonage is a fine, grey-stone house, with a thoroughly respectable air of modest solidity.

Acting performances throughout are steady, if not scintillating. Felicity Jones, who plays Catherine Morland, will be a big star I'm certain. Not because of her immense acting talents, although she is fine in this department, but because she is something of a ‘hottie’ in a sort of nubile, Leslie Carron-as-Gigi kind of way with large, soulful eyes and bee-sting lips pouting prettily in the manner of a perpetually surprised bunny rabbit. At first I felt she was a little too knowing to be a naieve young heroine, unexperienced in the wicked ways of the world. But here, a little strangely, she seems to become increasingly artless and insecure as the action progresses, to the point where our sympathies are truly engaged with her by the time she is evicted cruelly from Northanger Abbey. She firmly believes she is being punished for her own silly fancies, and even deserves such harsh treatment. She never suspects the awful truth, that General Tilney learns she is not a wealthy heiress (as he had been falsely told by Thorpe) and therefore sees her as a fortune-hunting adventuress. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.

As for Henry Tilney, the man Catherine loves and eventually marries. He is played here by JJ Feild with charm, wit and warm tenderness towards young Catherine, whose innocence he cherishes. I actually like JJ Feild's Henry Tilney more than Austen's - although I do like Austen's hero a great deal too.

In truth I have mixed feelings towards Henry Tilney as a Romantic hero. On the one hand he is witty, urbane, the kind of guy who could be tremendous fun. You could imagine a modern-day Henry as great company, engaging in sexy, stimulating banter, laced with a healthy dose of bitchiness. To my mind, he would make a great match for a 'mature' and witty woman. But in Northanger Abbey he has been paired with an adorable, innocent child-woman, who I occasionally feel has strayed into the wrong love story. For me, the whole affair has a slight whiff of ‘cradle-snatching’ – which doesn’t reflect particularly well on our dear Henry. I fear poor Catherine will become hectored and lectured into sullen silence, rather than mentored into maturity, which is what Austen would rather have us believe here I feel. This does not feel like a union of equals, and in a postfeminist age, equality of mind is surely a pre-requisite for ideal love. (Again, is this why Pride and Prejudice is so popular?)

I can't help but slightly resent Henry's paternalistic upbraiding of Catherine for her (granted) very foolish notions about his father's murdering his mother. He is justified, of course. But it is the momentuous importance given to the incident in the heroine's life which riles me a little. For Catherine, Henry's anger is a turning point when she sees that the realities of experience - as explained to her by Henry earlier - are more frightening and more serious than any novel, and not to be treated as trifles. It is the crux of her maturation plot - much as poor Emma Woodhouse is later reduced to tears by her moral mentor Mr Knightley, after her rudeness to Miss Bates on Box Hill. In both cases the romantic hero is accorded a hugely vital role in shaping the heroine's character (and suitability for marriage). But there is something a little patronising and self-satisfied in these examples of male moral superiority, reining in the feminine excesses of the women they hope to wed. I guess then my quibble here is actually less with Henry Tilney (or even Mr Knightley), but with Austen's deployment of these characters as subtle Pygmalions.

JJ Feild's Henry is always saved by an impish, boyish charm. He is perceptive, intelligent, and of course, as Mrs Allen (Sylvestra Le Touzel in her best ever performance) constantly tells us, he 'understands muslins.' Certainly he has a 'feminine' side, but JJ Feild's Tilney is tough too, judging by his instant dismissal of two young men from their seats at the Assembly dance, to enable Catherine and Mrs Allen to sit down. There is also something very self-aware throughout his performance, perhaps something hurt and vulnerable too. He envies Catherine's happy childhood, her resultant purity of thought and motive. There is a lonely little boy behind his glib, witty persona, although we have sadly lost some of his sparkling wit and cleverness in the transition from text to screen. But not so much as to lose the 'essence' of Henry Tilney, which JJ Feild has captured strongly here.

Here, Henry and Catherine's romance is sweet, endearing. He describes the bovine, pushy John Thorpe, (William Beck), who is chasing Catherine's affections with brazen gusto, as his 'rival' and warns Catherine he is not best-equipped to offer his opinion on Thorpe, thus ensuring his admiration for her is always clear cut. Indeed, their mutual appreciation is always obvious, which made me wonder why he did not propose to her at Northanger Abbey, most especially considering his father is so keen to forge a match between them (whilst he still believes her to be filthy rich). Certainly there is also some sexual attraction between Catherine and Henry, particularly displayed when he wipes her cheek clean after riding. And once he has ditched his irksome father and finally proposed to Catherine at Fullerton, the couple's obligatory kiss (for the satisfaction of a modern TV audience) is definitely ardent, almost raunchy, compared to most period dramas. Perhaps it is the corollary of sweet little Catherine's pent-up fantasy world finally bubbling to the fore, as she literally pushes Henry backwards into a hedge with the force of her passion. It is little surprise that our next shot of the happy couple is post-marriage, of course, and holding a baby ...

Aside from the central couple, there are some strong supporting performances. Carey Mulligan is very good as the flirtatious Isabella. She not only flirts with all the men in Bath, but even, it seems, with the male viewers, as at one point, she is alone with Catherine, both in their under-garments, cleavages busting out of their corsets and long hair wild, undone. 'What would men think if they saw us now?' she giggles knowingly. (Another Davies 'touch'). Mulligan captures beautifully Isabella's shallow, vapid nature, her reliance on her sexuality above all - although we cannot forget this is a girl without fortune, possibly raised to silliness, as perhaps shown by her mother's downcast face, accompanying her daughter's arch, brittle manner, when news comes that James Morland (Catherine's brother) is not the wealthy marriage prospect the Thorpes had hoped for. And yet Isabella is a victim too, as shown by Captain Tilney's caddish 'use' of her. Eleanor Tilney, (Catherine Walker), assures Catherine, in her slow, sage manner, that Isabella is the type to recover from such disappointments - but one wonders about the real vulnerability of Isabella's situation, most particularly as she does not have the wit and intelligence to truly play the game, and survive intact.

Out of the remaining minor characters, the Allens (Desmond Barrit and Sylvestra Le Touzel) make for a fine comedic pairing, and the Morland family are pleasantly characterised. Mark Dymond makes for a suitably sly Captain Frederick Tilney, and his father, the sinister General, is played, a little less successfully perhaps, with sombre froideur by Liam Cunningham.

Overall this was an enjoyable piece, far superior to ITV's Jane Austen Season opener Mansfield Park. This is not a vintage Austen adaptation, in being a little stale aesthetically and slightly unimaginative in terms of direction. Locations, musical scoring, costumes are serviceable, if not astounding. Acting is pretty strong throughout, while never super standout, aided by a fluent, flowing and neatly plotted script. But the tele-film has a quiet, winning charm, and of course, it is hugely refreshing to see a new version of Austen's delightful, yet least-read and least-adapted work.

ITV's Mansfield Park is stodgy fare, lacking style or substance

ITV’s Mansfield Park made for a very dull Sunday evening’s viewing. Maggie Wadey’s script was charmless and uninspiring, displaying zero critical edge, while Iain B Macdonald’s direction lacked finesse or imagination. Despite Macdonald’s penchant for hand-held camera-work and sudden bursts of energy, this filmic experience was lifeless, flat and one-paced. This was a shamefully lazy treatment of one of Austen’s darkest, most menacing and intriguing works. Mansfield Park describes a world fraught with moral and material dangers for poor Fanny Price, both inside and outside of her uncle’s estate.

Here too, Austen establishes a genuine dichotomy between opposing social ideologies. As Claire Tomalin succinctly puts it: ‘Mansfield Park … sets up an opposition between someone with strongly held religious and moral principles, who will not compromise them for any reason, will not consider a marriage that is not based on true feeling rather than opportunism, and is revolted by sexual immorality [Fanny Price]; and a group of worldly, highly cultivated, entertaining and well-to-do young people who pursue pleasure without regard for religious or moral principles.’ [Claire Tomalin’s Jane Austen: A Life, 2000, p. 276]

In this novel, Austen has also invoked the potential for real human cruelty with a powerful cast of characters, amongst whom we have the likes of Mrs Norris, one of the greatest villains of literature. She is characterised by meanness, officiousness and sycophancy towards the powerful, and bullying of anyone she perceives to be in her power. She positively revels in Fanny’s lowly status. Meanwhile Lady Bertram is a supreme example of egoistic indolence and sloth, Sir Thomas Bertram is a morally dubious, authoritarian patriarch who himself must be 're-educated,'Tom Bertram is a selfish wastrel, his sisters Maria and Julia are vain and vapid, while his brother Edmund is a bloodless prig, with a highly developed capacity for romantic self-delusion.

Amidst this happy family we have the external ‘interlopers’ who threaten the stability and order of rule at Mansfield Park. Fanny Price, of course, is the timid yet steely bastion of moral propriety, who is at the heart of the story, but the Crawford siblings, Mary and Henry, pose the most interesting and dynamic challenge, effectively driving the narrative forwards.

The ITV Mansfield Park pays passing lip service to these gloriously rich and involving characterisations. This is not simply the fault of cramming a fat novel into a slim tele-film format, as is so often the defence of failed adaptation. It is because the script, the direction, and even in some cases, the cast, fail to breath life into these characters and narrative.

Billie Piper’s Fanny Price will no doubt be much discussed by critics and viewers. Her performance was competent if a little bland. No, she is not Austen’s Fanny. She runs amok, hair unkempt, a vision of blooming health and vigour far removed from Austen’s sickly heroine. But this alteration is hardly surprising, and I would argue, quite necessary, to enliven Austen’s Fanny in her transition from text to screen. Fanny has to become a more active protagonist to engage our interest. Even so, Piper’s Fanny did not particularly grab and hold my attention.

Fanny is in love with her cousin Edmund, played here by Blake Ritson, giving a pretty polished performance, truer to Austen’s novel in tone and manner. Which is probably why I couldn’t stand him - Edmund being for me, one of Austen’s most insufferably boring romantic heroes. Ritson had the look of a sleek, glossy blackbird with large, soulful, red-rimmed eyes, ultimately worn through by his love for what he deems a worthless woman (Mary Crawford). By the end of the tele-film, he wore a slightly haunted expression, and had become jumpy and panicked – so emotionally unbalanced, in fact, that he fell head over heels in love with Fanny for suggesting the usage of ‘purple’ over maroon thread to her Aunt. His sudden romantic epiphany at this moment provided me with the best and loudest laugh of the evening.

His brother Tom was seriously under-used, considering he was being played by the delectable James D’Arcy. On the plus side, we did cadge a prolonged glimpse of D’Arcy’s bare chest, the downside being that it was covered in large, slimy medicinal leeches at the time, supposedly to help drain away his alcohol-induced fever.

Douglas Hodge made for a fine enough Sir Thomas Bertram, for what was a remarkably conservative interpretation of the baronet, in view of his nefarious ‘business’ interests. Lady Bertram (Jemma Redgrave) was far too chirpy and perceptive, while the viciously venomous Mrs Norris was thoroughly de-clawed and de-toxed to the point of insipid by Maggie O’Neill here.

Michelle Ryan’s Maria Bertram was much highlighted in previews, due to her celebrity appeal as ex-Zoe Slater from Eastenders. Frankly, she might as well have posted in her photograph for this performance, rather than bother to show up, for all the impact she made here, in what is a crucial role in terms of plot development and the elucidation of Austen’s key themes, ideas and arguments. But then again, as there were no key themes, ideas or arguments in play in this adaptation, perhaps Maria’s cardboard cut-out character suffices perfectly well. All Michelle was required to do, it seemed, was to look pretty and alluring, which clearly comes very easily to her. But we had no sense of Maria's fierce greedy egoism, her driving ambition, her sexual competing, or indeed her tragic social imprisonment – key factors in Austen’s text.

As for Catherine Steadman as Julia, I rather liked her, but on reflection this might have been because her presence was so utterly negligible amidst this tripe, that I cannot now for the life of me even recall her face.

Fanny’s brother William (Joseph Morgan) had a small part to play in this adaptation – which was quite a relief actually, as he seemed remarkably irritating, only just saved by a hysterically silly ‘Seaman’s’ dance, performed at Fanny’s birthday picnic.

As for the Crawfords. This pair lacked the genuine charm and allure that Austen’s text requires of them. They must represent a very real and exciting threat, an alternative moral universe for Fanny and Edmund. But here, Joseph Beattie’s Henry Crawford was a pudding-faced fellow with floppy hair, failing to emanate even an iota of Henry’s magnetism and sexual charisma – a feat the original Henry achieves, in spite of his lack of conventional good looks.

Mary Crawford, one of Austen’s most beguiling inventions, was played here by stunning Hayley Atwell, who toiled valiantly onwards with a limp and lifeless script, but she failed to delight. Most annoying, her costumes were almost always red, (or reddish), graduating to moody black by the end, with dangly red earrings. Such a tired old cliché. Clearly the red represented her danger, her passion, her sexuality – all those well-worn cinematic tropes. Meanwhile sweet little Fanny swanned around in pretty pale blues and wholesome colours. A delicate feminine contrast to Mary’s overtly coloured costumes.

One thing that puzzled me was the Crawfords’ seeming lack of a home of their own, as we never saw the parsonage. There they were, forever roaming the grounds of Mansfield Park, bitching about its occupants, but we never saw where they were walking to. Were they just circling aimlessly, in an endless Stygian purgatory? Were they perhaps camping out in Sir Bertram’s hedgerows? Was there really a world beyond Mansfield Park? Were they all trapped in their own Mansfield Park time-space continuum?

It certainly felt that way. Indeed, the lack of extra locations began to make me feel clostraphobic, even queasy – particularly that nasty pink drawing room. Plus, by excising all external environments, (perhaps as a budget-saving device), we lost some key narrative sequences, most particularly Fanny’s punishing exile to Portsmouth, in retaliation for refusing Henry Crawford’s marriage proposal. In such a way, we never saw the grime, hardship and squalor of her family’s life in contrast to the smooth luxuries of Mansfield Park. Fanny’s thinking is strongly influenced by this material disparity. And our awareness of socio-economic and class distinction in Regency Britain is sharply focused by these scenes too, which is refreshing and unusual in the Austen canon.

But this was far too interesting to be included in this adaptation. So instead we had to make do with Fanny’s languishing alone and bored in a vast and splendid mansion with sumptuous gardens, whilst the Bertram family peeled off in their separate directions, going to places we were never allowed to see. Billie Piper puffed out her lips bravely, and we tried very, very hard to feel her misery, amidst such glorious surroundings and sweet tranquillity.

The simple truth is some omissions, some deviations from text to screen really do matter. The plot loses dramatic momentum. Characters lose credibility. And this was a glaring example, even though I’m the last person, believe me, to scrutinise adaptations with pursed lips, pen poised, pedantically cross-referencing a long checklist of essential scenes and lines from the original with the filmic version, tutt-tutting when this bit or that bit has been omitted or changed by the adaptor.

No. I want to be entertained, stimulated, to be swept up in the whole filmic experience. This is what I want foremost. And that means we need, above all, narrative coherence and dynamism, and a sense of truth in the portrayal of characters. If an adaptation fails in this regard, then, quite simply, it has failed to make the transition from text to screen – as is the case with this version of Mansfield Park, which was frankly turgid, lacking suspense or style.

It is also hard to believe that such a critically vacuous version of Mansfield Park has been produced in this particular year when we are celebrating the bicentenary of the abolition of slavery, which, in the light of postcolonial discourses is a very live issue in Austen’s Mansfield Park. Esteemed postcolonial critics such as Edward Said have identified Mansfield Park as a key text in displaying the reliance of English society and wealth on Imperial adventures and the pernicious legacy of the slave trade. We also know that Austen herself opposed slavery and read Thomas Clarkson, a chief proponent for abolition, who wrote The Abolition of the Slave Trade in 1808. Indeed, Mansfield Park itself might well be named after the Mansfield Agreement (1772) which was ushered in by the Lord Chief Justice of England, Lord Mansfield, concerning James Somerset, a black slave brought to England. A question was raised regarding Somerset’s status. Could he still be owned by his master on English soil? A ruling was enforced in Somerset’s favour: ‘It was resolved that England was too pure an air for slaves to breathe in … the moment they put their feet on English ground they are free.’ Jane Austen actually met Lord Mansfield’s niece at the home of her brother Edward Knight, and in view of her usage of the name Mansfield, surely it cannot then be a further coincidence, that in the novel, Fanny Price constantly craves clean, fresh air, ‘the free air and liberty of the country.’

In my opinion this ITV adaptation badly misses a trick. Rather than enhance the potential for a relevant and timely postcolonial interpretation of the novel, excepting a couple of very small references (including Sir Thomas’s walking cane with its decorative carved black slave head), the producers have opted instead for powder-puff pastiche. Was it fear of alienating their audience with what could be deemed as an overtly politicised approach? Or simply uninspired filmmaking?

Personally, I believe it was the latter.

This was Adaptation by Numbers, approached by adaptors with absolutely nothing interesting to say whatsoever about Austen’s Mansfield Park, motivated mainly by the broadcaster’s desire to play ‘safe’ and accrue some easily digestible Cultural Capital in the face of the BBC’s prestigious reputation in this department. Adaptation can be exciting and challenging. It is a tribute not a snub to an author – even a well-loved and revered one like Austen – when adaptors reinterpret, reinvent, and challenge the original text. They enter into a genuine interactive dialogue with that text which actually serves to keep a text alive and fresh and consistently relevant – even if the resultant reading of that text courts controversy or fails to delight filmically. At least there is an effort to actually ‘adapt’.

Indeed, such an effort is entirely and honourably necessary, simply because novels and films are entirely different mediums, behaving in completely different ways, and our consumption of them differs too. Therefore a truly successful filmic adaptation is a pretty remarkable achievement, although often the best adaptations cannot stay ‘faithful’ to the source text, mainly deriving inspiration and shape from the original. However, even those adaptations that purport to be ‘literary’, with pretensions to fidelity, can never stay ‘true’ – and nor should they. If a viewer wants to ‘see’ an entire book on screen, far better to re-read the novel and then summon up one’s own powers of imagination. It’s a less frustrating and more honest exercise all round. Better to simply kick back and enjoy a film or TV drama for what it is.

My frustration with the ITV’s Mansfield Park is I couldn’t even do this, despite its being a piece of harmless heritage fluff, because I had a huge emotional disconnect with these characters. Their relationships felt detached, staged and untrue. Dialogue felt wooden and forced. Stage directions lacked energy and verve. And, importantly perhaps, there was minimal erotic zing between Fanny and Edmund – which in truth adheres more closely to the source text, but let’s face it, makes for very dull television. There were further functional elements at fault here. The credits and signage were irritatingly twee and floral. And the musical scoring was strangely intrusive and entirely grating. Plus, I felt I was suffocating in the richly palatial confines of Mansfield Park. I craved fresh air, I craved liberty, I even craved the ad breaks, and I was so very relieved when the final credits rolled.

Next week I will be reviewing ITV’s Northanger Abbey, for which I have much higher hopes already.