Becoming Jane
Following my (apparent) summer tradition of attending the motion pictures on my Fridays off from work, I took in a showing of Becoming Jane today. I was a bit reluctant, mostly because I knew it wasn't going to end happily--I mean, it's a fact well established that Jane Austen did not, in fact, ever marry. So you know the flirtation with Tom LeFroy (which the film blew up into a full-fledged relationship, complete with clandestine kisses, a marriage proposal and a near elopement) isn't going to end well, or at least isn't going to end in marriage. I find this dismal, but I went to see it anyway, mostly because I cannot resist the charms of James McAvoy, whose IMDb photo is hideous but who is, in fact, extremely handsome (McAvoy, incidentally, was cast opposite the dreaded Keira Knightley in Atonement, which is a fantastic novel, as Robbie Turner and even though I generally am annoyed by Knightley I feel like they've both been excellently cast).
Anyway, I have to say that Becoming Jane was a LOT better than that recent Pride and Prejudice adaptation. Julie Waters, who I know best as Mrs. Weasley from the Harry Potter movies, was an excellent Mrs. Austen, although everyone in the world seems to think that Mrs. Austen should be a dead ringer for Mrs. Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, which she certainly was not. At least she's less shrieky. I was less than enthused about Anne Hathaway's performance as the titular Jane, which is strange because I pretty much don't mind her, almost kind of respect her in a way, but she's A.) not British, and not convincing while playing one and B.) not nearly as charismatic as McAvoy, making their interplay vastly uneven. The emphasis this movie puts on particular relationships is strange--there is a lot of focus (far too much, I think) on Jane's brother Henry and his love affair with their cousin Eliza, the guillotine widow of a French comte. To what end this is, I do not know, except to highlight the fact that poor men (like Henry and Tom LeFroy) must marry rich women, just as poor women (like Jane and her sister Cassandra) must marry rich men, underscoring the idea that while rich men and rich women might marry each other, poor men and poor women (like poor Jane and poor Tom) must let go of each other and seek better unions, even if this goes against their every emotional inclination.
In truth, there is no overwhelming proof that Jane Austen and Tom LeFroy ever shared a serious attachment, much less aspirations of marriage (to each other, I mean). There are a few of Austen's letters extant that mention him, but only briefly and only as an object of flirtation, although she seemed to respect him a great deal. It is extremely possible that Austen's deeper or prolonged feelings for LeFroy (which can only be guessed at and imagined, not substantiated) might have been evident in letters Cassandra burned upon Austen's death (there were many, many of these). But, it's not extremely likely. Which is fine. I like the stretching of fact into fancy--it opens up new spaces for imagination. Plus, it's nice to be able to believe that a most beloved author, who wrote books that give pleasure to this very day, whose end was neither pretty nor uplifting, might have enjoyed a scintilla of true blissful happiness in her short life. For Austen, despite the fact that she seemed always to believe in love and the power of love until her dying day, was a spinster, sad and lonely and living with her mother, who died young, and who lived almost entirely in a world where her poor prospects would yield her neither luck nor joy in the arena of marriage. She had none of the good fortune of the Bennet sisters. She accepted one marriage proposal, from a Mr. Bigg-Wither, who was wealthy but whom she was not in love with--the movie changes the circumstances greatly, transforming Bigg-Wither into Mr. Wisley, the beloved nephew of a somewhat deranged Lady Catherine de Bourg-type dowager played by Maggie Smith, and set him in her youth rather than in her older age. I rather liked Mr. Wisley in the movie--sure, he was a bit dull, but he seemed as though he had hidden depths, and he certainly wasn't devoid of feeling or gentlemanly character, and he did work quite hard to make himself the sort of man Jane might like to marry. I was really irritated by her behavior towards him, but halfway through the movie I realized that this was something Becoming Jane had got right--because, according to her correspondence, Jane Austen was not the nicest or sweetest of people. She could be biting and ironic and cruel, which is what made her such a wonderfully sardonic observer of human nature.
The end of the movie was very sad to me, but I felt like Jane made the right decision in the end. She could not bring herself to marry a man who would lose everything because of her, and whose family, who he was helping to support, would sink deep into poverty if he lost the allowance his wealthy uncle provided him. Why they couldn't put off their union until LeFroy was out of law school and had established himself is kind of left unexplained, but oh well. Love stinks.
Anyway, I have to say that Becoming Jane was a LOT better than that recent Pride and Prejudice adaptation. Julie Waters, who I know best as Mrs. Weasley from the Harry Potter movies, was an excellent Mrs. Austen, although everyone in the world seems to think that Mrs. Austen should be a dead ringer for Mrs. Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, which she certainly was not. At least she's less shrieky. I was less than enthused about Anne Hathaway's performance as the titular Jane, which is strange because I pretty much don't mind her, almost kind of respect her in a way, but she's A.) not British, and not convincing while playing one and B.) not nearly as charismatic as McAvoy, making their interplay vastly uneven. The emphasis this movie puts on particular relationships is strange--there is a lot of focus (far too much, I think) on Jane's brother Henry and his love affair with their cousin Eliza, the guillotine widow of a French comte. To what end this is, I do not know, except to highlight the fact that poor men (like Henry and Tom LeFroy) must marry rich women, just as poor women (like Jane and her sister Cassandra) must marry rich men, underscoring the idea that while rich men and rich women might marry each other, poor men and poor women (like poor Jane and poor Tom) must let go of each other and seek better unions, even if this goes against their every emotional inclination.
In truth, there is no overwhelming proof that Jane Austen and Tom LeFroy ever shared a serious attachment, much less aspirations of marriage (to each other, I mean). There are a few of Austen's letters extant that mention him, but only briefly and only as an object of flirtation, although she seemed to respect him a great deal. It is extremely possible that Austen's deeper or prolonged feelings for LeFroy (which can only be guessed at and imagined, not substantiated) might have been evident in letters Cassandra burned upon Austen's death (there were many, many of these). But, it's not extremely likely. Which is fine. I like the stretching of fact into fancy--it opens up new spaces for imagination. Plus, it's nice to be able to believe that a most beloved author, who wrote books that give pleasure to this very day, whose end was neither pretty nor uplifting, might have enjoyed a scintilla of true blissful happiness in her short life. For Austen, despite the fact that she seemed always to believe in love and the power of love until her dying day, was a spinster, sad and lonely and living with her mother, who died young, and who lived almost entirely in a world where her poor prospects would yield her neither luck nor joy in the arena of marriage. She had none of the good fortune of the Bennet sisters. She accepted one marriage proposal, from a Mr. Bigg-Wither, who was wealthy but whom she was not in love with--the movie changes the circumstances greatly, transforming Bigg-Wither into Mr. Wisley, the beloved nephew of a somewhat deranged Lady Catherine de Bourg-type dowager played by Maggie Smith, and set him in her youth rather than in her older age. I rather liked Mr. Wisley in the movie--sure, he was a bit dull, but he seemed as though he had hidden depths, and he certainly wasn't devoid of feeling or gentlemanly character, and he did work quite hard to make himself the sort of man Jane might like to marry. I was really irritated by her behavior towards him, but halfway through the movie I realized that this was something Becoming Jane had got right--because, according to her correspondence, Jane Austen was not the nicest or sweetest of people. She could be biting and ironic and cruel, which is what made her such a wonderfully sardonic observer of human nature.
The end of the movie was very sad to me, but I felt like Jane made the right decision in the end. She could not bring herself to marry a man who would lose everything because of her, and whose family, who he was helping to support, would sink deep into poverty if he lost the allowance his wealthy uncle provided him. Why they couldn't put off their union until LeFroy was out of law school and had established himself is kind of left unexplained, but oh well. Love stinks.
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