The squeaky clean love story of Jane Austen fails to make hay of either women’s liberation or the miracle of creative writing, sticking to lush estates and courtly costume finery instead
Anna Hathaway and James McAvoy star in this sequel (or prequel) to the prodigious box office hit “Pride and Prejudice.” The story is a fictionalized account of the apparently unconsummated love affair between Austen and Tom Lefroy, a young barrister still under the wing, and financial control, of his class-obsessed uncle. Although Lefroy went on to become Lord High Justice of Ireland in his later years, his penniless state at the time proved a major problem for his relationship with Austen. In the custom of the time she was programmed for a moneyed mate, not a hopeful wannabe.
All this makes for a plot, of sorts, as Hathaway and McAvoy wring their hands in desperation while bystanders coo and bobble beneath their period costumery. Unfortunately Hathaway and McAvoy cannot substitute for the bevy of stars in “Prejudice,” and James Cromwell, as Austen’s father, is no substitute for papa figure Donald Sutherland. The result will break even at the box office, for there is a lingering hunger for the period finery and nostalgic romanticism of the earlier film; but neither awards nor critical acclaim are likely.
The look and feel of the film are like other period films of the early 1800s. Hathaway is passionate in her performance, as is McAvoy, but there are only two of them and it took more to bring “Pride and Prejudice” to fruition. With regard to plot, perhaps a better comparison is the period pot boiler starring Renée Zellweger, “Beatrix Potter,” in which the young maiden throws off the chains of her stifling bourgeoisie parentage to become her own master.
Unheard of in her day, although self-made fortunes were becoming more commonplace in the early 20th century, she made a fortune with her children’s books, the most famous story being “Peter Rabbit” published in 1902. In we are to believe the film, Jane Austen was not so lucky. Quite possibly the publishing world had not matured to the point where anyone could actually make a living from their writings; and certainly women would have received only begrudging acceptance into the guild in any event.
Be that as it may, Zellweger has a more fervid legion of followers than Hathaway and she is able to bring a more exuberant insouciance to the role. This is vital, because uppityness is the whole point, unless we can accept the film as a simple love story and let it go at that. In the end, Austen fails at overturning the British establishment and her love affair succumbs to the money and power of Lefroy’s evil uncle, the judge who controls the family purse strings. The time of the independent woman was not yet at hand.
“Becoming Jane” is a feather in the cap of cinematographer Eigil Bryld whose previous indie hit “Kinky Boots” launched him into the indie elite. The story is one of “can do” pragmatism laced with sexual innuendo. In “Becoming Jane” he gets to shoot a film that is inherently suggestive while still keeping the overt message one of carriages and corsets.
Starting out at PG-13 with the MPAA, even that even-handed rating was apparently too much for the production staff who edited the film down to the current PG rating. Surely this makes it safe enough for the teenage girls in any neighborhood in America. The photography is great, with full advantage taken of the lush surroundings and the richness of the landed gentry. But in the end the film is more of a love story than anything else and contemporary audience will be thin for such limited subject matter.
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