Firth, Everett and Dench Bring the Laughs in The Importance of Being Earnest (or Ernest)

What’s in a name? I’ve always found names and their meanings fascinating, and I love the connection mine has with both Ireland and peace. But would I still be me if I were Jane or Mary? And would other people see me the same way?

In Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, a name is very significant indeed. Two young ladies share the same curious fixation: they have always dreamed of marrying a man named Ernest. There’s just a certain something in the name that inspires confidence. (I stifled a giggle and forced myself to remember, as I watched the 2002 film adaptation written and directed by Oliver Parker, that this story predates Ernest P. Worrell by nearly a century.) Both of them do fall in love with Ernests, but there’s just one hitch: neither of them is actually named Ernest.

Colin Firth plays Jack, a generally decent fellow who divides his time between the country and London. But he has a secret. He takes his leave of the country by claiming to visit his brother Ernest in town, but his brother doesn’t actually exist. Instead, he takes on the name Ernest while in London. Meanwhile, his friend Algy, played by Rupert Everett, often gets out of social obligations by claiming a need to visit his nonexistent invalid friend, Bunbury, in the country.

Algy’s cousin Gwendolyn (Frances O’Connor) loves Jack, but her imperious mother, played by Judi Dench, insists upon approving him first, and she finds his shadowy family history most unsatisfactory. Dench, in the movie’s standout performance, savors each of her lines, milking them for maximum intimidation and wit. She’s a force to contend with, and matters soon become more complicated when the rather unscrupulous Algy turns up at Jack’s country estate pretending to be Ernest, leading him to instantly win the affections of impulsive daydreamer Cicely (Reese Witherspoon), Jack’s ward.

This fast-paced farce reminded me of one of my favorite M*A*S*H episodes, in which Hawkeye invents a captain by the name of Tuttle and finds it increasingly difficult to maintain the ruse of his existence. Here, we have two phony people and two real people using phony names. Naturally, keeping all that straight is just about impossible, and Firth and Everett are hilarious as the friends try to wade their way out of the mess they have made. While the film is more comical than romantic, the couples are believable, and I found the subplot about the affection between Cicely’s tutor, Miss Prism (Anna Massey), and the local rector, Dr. Chasuble (Tom Wilkinson), quite touching.

Absurd circumstances, sharp wordplay and piercing social commentary all combine to make this a very funny adaptation of a literary classic. The actors seem to relish their roles, and the direction helps the movie have contemporary appeal despite the 19th-century setting. All in all, not a bad way to get Wilde.

I Don't Have Enough Patience For The English Patient

This past Christmas, my aunt brought several boxes of videos along with her to the traditional family gathering. Having switched over to DVDs, she was running out of space, so all those movies she'd taped over the years were fair game for the rest of us. We took her up on her offer, snagging 50 or so tapes. Among the movies was The English Patient, about which I'd heard glowing reviews, particularly during a college class I took on colonial literature. Going into the film, I was intrigued; coming out, I was confused, and after a great deal of puzzling, I'm still not sure just what to make of it.

The English Patient opens near the end of World War II when a French nurse named Hana (Juliette Binoche) takes a severely burned man (Ralph Fiennes) under her wing, letting her comrades leave her behind so she can care for him in what she assumes are his last days. He doesn't seem likely to recover from his injuries, yet there is life and spirit in him still. He has a story to tell.

So he tells it, in bits and pieces, and we watch his tragic tale unfold in flashbacks that show him as the handsome young Hungarian Count Laszlo de Almasy, who comes under the spell of a beautiful woman named Katharine (Kristin Scott Thomas), who is married to Geoffrey Clifton (Colin Firth). The Cliftons work with the Count on some of his archaeological expeditions, and initially Katharine and Laszlo don't get along so well, but their passionate sniping leads to passionate other things, and when Geoffrey finds out, life gets a whole lot harder for both of them.

Throw into the mix Caravaggio (Willem Dafoe), who shows up one day shortly after Hana takes on the role of hospice nurse. We don't really know why he's there, but he obviously has a deep personal connection to the man lying helplessly in the bed with bandages all over him, eerily prefiguring the faceless Voldemort, whom Fiennes portrayed in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Late in the film, we see first-hand what happened to Caravaggio to make him so bitter, and it's probably the most grotesque sequence in a film with its fair share of violent moments. It's one of those scenes that I would retreat to the kitchen for if I watched the movie again, my hands clenched over my ears to block out Dafoe's blood-curdling screams.

Creating a quartet in the present day is bomb disarmer Kip (Naveen Andrews), a Sikh with whom Hana becomes smitten. Polite and quiet, he treats Hana with respect, though her regard for him seems much stronger than his for her, at least initially. I've seen most of the members of this cast in other roles but was especially excited to see Andrews, since my only familiarity with him was from LOST, which, like Lord of the Rings, provided me with a long list of actors to watch out for in other projects. I enjoyed his role here, which was a bit less complicated than the others since there wasn't so much back story to deal with.

Oddly, three of the actors in this film - Fiennes, Dafoe and Jurgen Prochnow - have played Jesus. (Now, if only Henry Ian Cusick had made it into the movie somehow, we could've had someone who both played Jesus and stars on LOST...) I assume this is mere coincidence (especially since Fiennes' portrayal came four years after this movie), though the film certainly explores religious themes such as redemption and sacrifice. That said, I wouldn't consider any of the characters a Christ figure. In fact, while Hana and Kip are likable enough, I don't find Laszlo, Katharine, Caravaggio or Geoffrey all that sympathetic. We watch all of them endure great suffering, and we feel sorry for them, but... I don't know. The movie stretches on for nearly three hours, and the minutes tick by ever so slowly. By the time it ended, I was just glad it was over, and I can't say it had much of an emotional impact on me. The ending left me feeling cold, and none of the gradually unveiled secrets of the past made much of an impression on me.

I think this is the sort of movie that's best watched twice if one wants to get a proper appreciation for everything that's happening. Unfortunately, I doubt I'll be delving into the movie further; my list of movies to see continues to grow, and I just don't have time to re-watch films I didn't like much to begin with. It takes a very patient viewer to embrace The English Patient.

Jane Austen Would Be Proud of This Mini-series

For several months now, I have been greatly intrigued by the 1995 BBC / A&E miniseries Pride and Prejudice. The curiosity that I, Erin Elizabeth, experienced thanks to the hearty recommendations of my good friend Elisabeth was finally sated this week, courtesy of another close friend... by the name of Elizabeth. It would seem that fate was aligned in my favor, drawing me to yet another Elizabeth, this one pre-dating us all by a couple of centuries.

It is through the eyes of Elizabeth Bennet (Jennifer Ehle) that we watch Jane Austen's classic novel unfold, and it is much the same in this five-hour mini-series, though we do occasionally catch a glimpse of scenes in which the second-eldest of the Bennett daughters plays no part. A quick-witted, free-spirited girl of about 20, she enjoys the close companionship of her older sister Jane (Susannah Harker) and the special affections of her father (Benjamin Whitrow), with whom she shares a sly sense of humor. While the dearest wish of her well-meaning but overdramatic, busy-bodyish mother (Alison Steadman) is to have all five of her daughters married off to men of fortune as quickly as possible, Elizabeth doesn't seem too anxious to take a walk down the aisle, and if she does, she'd prefer to go tumbling head over heels.

That's not to say she isn't practical. She's simply seen all too closely the pitfalls of a passionless marriage thanks to her parents, and she's horrified by her no-nonsense friend Charlotte's (Lucy Scott) suggestion that Jane turn on the charm to secure the rich Charles Bingley (Crispin Bonham-Carter), who seems to have taken quite a liking to her. Not that Elizabeth dislikes him; indeed, in all her dealings with him, she has found him to be as generous and good-natured as his sister Caroline (Anna Chancellor) is snobby and uncivil. She simply doesn't think marriage is something to be rushed into.

At least she knows for herself exactly what sort of men to avoid in her courtships. Men like Mr. Collins (David Bamber), the awkward, self-righteous clergyman who will inherit her father's estate upon his death. This cousin of hers is prone to making long speeches on tedious subjects, his favorite of which is his overbearing patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh (Barbara Leigh-Hunt), and all the material delights of her estate. In fact, it is his devotion to this woman that drives him to ask Elizabeth's hand in marriage, since she indicated that he ought to find himself a wife and since he thinks the proper thing would be to marry someone in the family so the house will not be lost to the Bennets after all. It's a nice thought, but not at all worth the torment it would bring Elizabeth to have such a man for a husband.

Worse than Mr. Collins, who is too ridiculous for her to take too seriously, is Fitzwilliam Darcy (Colin Firth), the darkly handsome friend of Mr. Bingley who snubs Elizabeth upon their first meeting, who verbally spars with her when they meet again at Bingley's home, who convinces the impressionable Bingley that his affections for Jane are not returned, who evidently is responsible for the ruination of the career aspirations of George Wickham (Adrian Lukis), the charming officer Elizabeth warms to. Yes, the deck is stacked against Darcy despite his vast wealth, so when he approaches her with a wholly unexpected marriage proposal that is as unromantic in its own way as Mr. Collins', Elizabeth balks. It's only after this, the midway point in the mini-series, that Elizabeth begins to suspects she may have misjudged Darcy...

Even those unfamiliar with the story must suspect that there is more to Darcy than a dour countenance and a terse tongue. In his star-making role, Firth boasts icy features the first couple of times we meet him, but there is fire in his subsequent exchanges with Elizabeth. There's a sense that while he may find Elizabeth frustrating, he also is invigorated by her, finding in her spirited demeanor and unapologetic wit a refreshing change from Caroline, who never learns that undercutting Elizabeth is not the way to win Darcy's favor. We watch his behavior toward her change subtly; we see the hurt in his eyes when she rejects his offer to dance, the admiration when he gazes at her as she plays and sings for Lady Catherine, who happens to be Darcy's aunt.

Indeed, while Darcy marvels over the beauty of Elizabeth's eyes, his are even more arresting, communicating the depths of his soul as effectively as any of his meticulously chosen words. Firth reminds me of Christopher Plummer, whose eyes are stern and flinty for the first half of The Sound of Music but gradually soften as Captain Von Trapp falls in love with Maria, until they melt into a misty puddle when he finally blurts out, "You can't marry someone... when you're in love with someone else." The comparable moment in Pride and Prejudice has to be when Darcy stares dreamily at Elizabeth as she turns the pages of sheet music for his sister Georgiana (Emilia Fox), thus distracting the delicate young woman from the mortifying comments of Caroline. A mutual regard for Georgiana, to say nothing of the awkward but blissful opportunity for a new start their accidental meeting has afforded, seems to have deepened Darcy's affections and awakened Elizabeth's.

Beyond the eyes, we get several little moments that show the depths of Darcy's discomfort in finding himself unable to resist Elizabeth's charms, later compounded by her rejection. Twice we see him submerge himself in water - once in a tub, once in a pond, both times evidently to douse the improper passion burning inside him. On other occasions we see him engaging in various elite sporting activities, again seeming to need a physical outlet to distract himself from emotional pain. (I couldn't help but think of Lex Luthor in a couple of scenes; what is it with rich, inscrutable guys and billiards and fencing?) His character is always revealed one tiny bit at a time, and the reserve he demonstrates around Elizabeth is such that his dismissal of Jane as disinterested in Bingley is not only presumptuous, it seems hypocritical. How can such a deep man make such shallow judgments?

If only Bingley were not so easily persuaded - though his reliance on Darcy at least means that his friend can undo the damage his meddling has wrought. For as much as I adore Darcy, I'm equally smitten with his closest friend, who is always diplomatic, courteous and cheerful. He's the sort of fellow who lights up a room when he walks in, and he's perfectly matched to optimistic, altruistic Jane, who can't help but see the best in everyone, even if such kindness is undeserved. Bonham-Carter conveys Bingley's generous nature wonderfully; while these two men may be very different from each other, it's hard to say which sister gets the better end of the deal.

Steadman is a tour de force as Mrs. Bennet, always chattering away in the most animated fashion, wringing her hands, caterwauling comically, conniving whenever a marriage prospect appears within reach, petulantly bemoaning the unfairness of it all when her schemes don't quite work out. Whitrow's humor is drier; he doesn't speak half as much as his wife does, yet nearly every sentence out of his mouth is a zinger, a triumph of sarcasm whose meaning is usually missed by its target but not an astute audience. There is almost always a twinkle in his eyes and dimples in his cheeks; he can't hide them no matter how cross he tries to appear. And for all his laughter at his family's expense, Mr. Bennet does feel genuine, if fleeting, remorse for the disaster his poor planning could wreak upon his daughters if they fail to marry during his lifetime. Whenever he was on screen, I paid especially careful attention, and my diligence never failed to be rewarded with his dialogue, always delivered with impeccable comic timing.

Smaller characters add further flavoring to the mini-series. Chief among them is Lydia (Julia Sawalha), the youngest Bennet whose imprudent entanglement with Wickham (whose later exchanges with Elizabeth are pricklingly uncomfortable) toward the end sets into motion the fruition of Elizabeth's blooming desires. Sawalha is a boisterous bundle of giggles whose impish face reminded me strikingly of Billy Boyd, who portrayed mischievous Pippin in The Lord of the Rings. She runs around the house making breathless, silly exclamations. She finds everything to be a joke - except for anything that comes out of the mouth of her older sister Mary (Lucy Briers). These statements are always met with the most exaggeratedly exasperated of sighs. While the audible reaction is another indication of Lydia's immaturity, Mary's Debbie Downer demeanor is a bit much for anyone to take. She truly seems to relish being miserable, and she tries to spread that wealth around as much as possible with her constant moralizing and her insistence on providing the musical entertainment at every party, despite her mediocre skill and her refusal to play anything that could be remotely considered fun. Poor Kitty (Polly Maberly) is wedged between these two sisters, and as she functions mainly as a shadow for Lydia, we scarcely notice her whenever her little sister is on screen. By the time she gets a bit of time for herself, we're much too engaged in the affairs of the other Bennets to pay much attention.

Then there is the wide assortment of friends and neighbors: jovial Sir William Lucas (Christopher Benjamin), whose delight in observing youthful joys and engaging in a bit of match-making calls to mind Sense and Sensibility's Sir John Middleton; Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner (Tim Wylton and Joanna David), the kindly uncle and aunt who are responsible for Elizabeth's life-changing visit to Pemberley, Darcy's estate; Mr. Hurst (Rupert Vansittart), Bingley's Neanderthal of a brother-in-law, who scarcely opens his mouth if not to snore or grunt out something semi-intelligible; Maria Lucas (Lucy Davis), Charlotte's good-natured sister who adores Elizabeth and is awed but intimidated by Lady Catherine, whom the two often visit during their stay with the now Charlotte Collins; and several others.

Andrew Davies' script relies heavily upon Austen's own dialogue, which is a good thing since that is where her wit shines brightest. We're treated to many heated exchanges as well as lines spoken away from the bustle of a crowded cast of characters, where comparative silence increases the impact of words uttered with quiet conviction. It's easy to tell where each of the six installments ends, which gives a better appreciation for how well-paced it is, with each segment introducing an important element.

The cinematography is wonderful; we understand why Mrs. Gardiner is so in love with the untamed beauty of this particular section of English countryside. I often found myself wistfully wishing I could step into that world for a few hours and "take a turn" through the wind-swept grass with Elizabeth. Carl Davis' pianoforte-driven score, meanwhile, adds a lovely sprightly tone to many scenes, capturing the energy of the diverse group of characters.

Pride and Prejudice is five hours of supreme entertainment, an outstanding adaptation of one of the most beloved novels in English literature. I think Miss Austen would be very impressed. This Erin Elizabeth sure is.

Bridget Jones' Diary is Amusing, But She's Hardly a Heroine

My first exposure to Bridget Jones' Diary occurred courtesy of the same professor who introduced me to Jane Austen. Curiously, when we watched the clip of that oh-so-British romantic comedy that found a bloated, bumbling Renee Zellweger sandwiched between suave charmer Hugh Grant and taciturn, bad-sweater-clad Colin Firth, it wasn't because of all the Austen echoes. It was because of exiled novelist Salman Rushdie, whose Midnight's Children we were reading at the time. Rushdie's auspicious appearance in the film involved him being asked not once but twice for directions to the bathroom and then being given a very clumsy nod by notoriously abhorrent public speaker Bridget (Zellweger) in the speech she makes introducing a hot new book.

By the time I saw more of the movie than that charming little scene, I'd watched a high school theatrical version of Pride and Prejudice, which caused me to notice the name of Colin Firth's character - Mr. Darcy - and wonder if this was a coincidence. Re-watching both this movie and the 2005 film version of Pride and Prejudice and doing a bit of poking around on imdb.com satisfied my curiosity on that score. It soon became apparent that not only is this Darcy's last name the same, he occupies the same role in the story, as an initially unlikable man whom Bridget, like laudable literary heroine Elizabeth Bennett, loathes and later loves. He also has a long, sordid history with Daniel Cleaver (Grant), a dreamy cad along the lines of Pride and Prejudice's George Wickham; the dispute in this case is over not paternal affection and inheritance but the fact that one of them stole the other's sweetheart, and the tide of the story changes when Bridget realizes the truth of who was wronged.

Other similarities include Bridget's relationship with her parents. While she and her father (Jim Broadbent) are close, her mother (Gemma Jones) is silly and nagging, forever trying to dictate how Bridget should live her life while remaining one of the forces standing in the way of her happiness. Moreover, not only did Firth play Mr. Darcy in the 1995 A&E miniseries of Pride and Prejudice, but screenwriter Andrew Davies worked on that screenplay while Jones and Grant both appeared in Ang Lee's Sense and Sensibility.

So when I watch Bridget Jones' Diary, I ought to be on Austen overload. Except that, hilarious as Austen's writing often is, there's a propriety to it that is sorely lacking in this film, which is loaded with crude jokes, foul language and lewd situations. While Wickham's infamous exploits mostly occurred off-screen, Daniel flaunts his roguish tendencies, and while we're sympathetic to Bridget, she doesn't come across so well either. She bears precious little resemblance to Elizabeth, who is strong-willed and well-composed, except when reduced to perplexity by her dealings with Darcy. Bridget is anxious, chain-smoking, self-absorbed and foul-mouthed. She suffers from the crippling lack a sense of self-worth, yet there always seems to be a sense of haughtiness about her. Her diary entries are so terse that they rarely reveal anything profound, and I find her insistence on omitting both articles and the personal pronoun that should usually serve as the subject of her sentences extremely annoying (though the distinct style led to a rather amusing - if equally ribald - series of "Very Secret Diaries" of various Lord of the Rings characters by LiveJournal blogger cassieclare).

Part of my general dislike of Bridget may also be due to a general dislike of Zellweger. I loved her in Cold Mountain, but elsewhere I've always found her characters, and the fact that she always seems to be squinting when she talks, irritating. No complaints about Firth, but seeing Grant as such a scallywag was rather jarring, since I'm used to seeing him in roles in which he displays varying degrees of nice guyness. Sure, he's still a handsome chap, and his charm is turned up as high as ever, so I couldn't help liking him a bit, but I felt rather guilty about it. Jones was entertaining as Bridget's libidinous, meddling mother, while Broadbent made for a tender father figure and forgiving husband. Effective while on-screen but rather forgettable overall were Shirley Henderson, Sally Phillips and James Callis as Bridget's buddies Jude, Shazza and Tom.

Bridget Jones' Diary has many genuinely funny moments, though you probably have to be English or an Anglophile to appreciate a lot of the humor. The romance is fairly engaging and could even be heartwarming if only Bridget were a little more likable. I did enjoy the film, the first, second and, yes, third time I watched it. (It's on TBS a lot. Which spared me the full force of its very R-rated language.) But given the choice between Elizabeth Bennett and Bridget Jones, Elizabeth wins hands-down.