Pride and prejudice

 ✳️Georgian society in Jane Austen's novels is :

the ever-present background of her work, the world in which all her characters are set. Entirely situated during the reign of George III, the novels of Austen describe their characters' everyday lives, joys, sorrows, and loves, providing insight into the period.

Austen's novels deal with such varied subjects as the historical context, the social hierarchies of the time, the role and status of the clergy, gender roles, marriage, or the pastimes of well-off families. Without even the reader noticing, many details are broached, whether of daily life, of forgotten legal aspects, or of surprising customs, thus bringing life and authenticity to the English society of this period.

Nevertheless, the point of view from which Austen describes England is that of a woman of the English gentry (albeit from its lower fringes), belonging to a reasonably well-off family, well connected and remarkably well educated for the time, and living in a very small village of rural England around the late 1790s or early 19th century. Thus, some essential aspects of the Georgian era are virtually absent from her novels, such as the American Revolutionary War and the loss of the Thirteen Colonies, the French Revolution, the beginning of the Industrial Revolution and the birth of the British Empire. Indeed, rather than a depiction of the history of English society at large, Austen's novels provide an understanding of the way of life of the lowest level of the gentry in rural England at the turn of the 19th century.

What if Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth never got together?

If Elizabeth Bennet had not married Mr. Darcy in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, several key ramifications could be imagined:

(1) Elizabeth's Future: Elizabeth might have faced a more uncertain future. Without a marriage to Darcy, she may have had to rely on her family's support or seek a less favorable match. Given her family's financial situation, this could have led to a life of limited prospects. 

(2) Darcy's Character Development: Much of Darcy's character growth is tied to his relationship with Elizabeth. Without their union, he may have remained aloof and prideful, potentially leading to a less fulfilling life and limiting his personal growth.

(3) Impact on the Bennet Family: The Bennet family's social standing and financial security would likely have remained precarious. The pressure on the Bennet sisters to marry well would have increased, potentially leading to more desperate situations for both Jane and Lydia.

(4) Themes of the Novel: The themes of love, social class, and personal growth would shift significantly. Elizabeth's refusal of Darcy could emphasize the importance of individual choice and the consequences of rejecting societal expectations.

(5) Potential Alternative Matches: Elizabeth might have been pushed toward another suitor, such as Mr. Collins or Mr. Wickham, both of whom represent different societal pressures and pitfalls.

(6) Consequences for Secondary Characters: The dynamics between characters would change. For instance, the relationship between Bingley and Jane could have been affected, as Darcy played a crucial role in their eventual union.

In sum, Elizabeth's choice to marry or not marry Darcy is central to the novel's resolution and its exploration of themes such as love, class, and personal growth. Not marrying Darcy would have led to a vastly different narrative trajectory for both Elizabeth and the supporting characters.

✳️What if Lydia's elopement had a different outcome?  

Lydia Bennet is a character in Jane Austen’s novel Pride and Prejudice, published in 1813. Lydia is the youngest Bennet sister and Mrs. Bennet’s favorite child. The girl never cared about her education. Instead, she enjoyed gossips, spending money, and flirting with men. No wonder such a careless creature was an easy target for George Wickham. Lydia agreed to run away with him, hoping for a happy marriage and a lot of fun along the way.

Lydia was head over heels in love. She did not notice Wickham’s depraved character and ugly past. George tried to elope Darcy’s sister Georgiana to get access to her family’s fortune. Thus, his elopement with Lydia seemed unlikely to end in a marriage. Wickham wanted to find an easy way to escape his debts, while 15-year-old Lydia craved romance and excitement.

Wickham informed the Bennets that he was ready to marry Lydia if her family paid off his debts. Elizabeth knew about Wickham’s affair with Georgiana. She told Darcy about the blackmail. In an attempt to rescue Lydia’s dignity, Darcy bribed Wickham so that he agreed to marry her. Mr. Gardiner arranged the wedding, and Lydia became Wickham’s wife. She remained unaware of his immoral behavior.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

.✳️ Mary Shelley Frankenstein book vs Novel.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's "Frankenstein; Or, the Modern Prometheus" is one of the most famous stories in the Western literary canon. It has been adapted into multiple films and stageplays, as well as used as inspiration for many other stories. While it contains Gothic and Romantic literary elements, it's noted to be the first science-fiction novel and massively responsible for the creation of the horror genre. Shelley was influenced to write the novel during the summer of 1816 when she was 18 years old. She was visiting Lord Byron with her partner, Percy Shelley, in Switzerland during a time known as the ''Year Without a Summer'' because of the unusually cold and damp temperatures.

That summer, Shelley, Lord Byron, and Percy spent much time indoors reading each other ghost stories due to the miserable weather. Byron suggested to the group that each of them write and share their own ghost story. One night, Shelley listened to Byron and Percy discuss Erasmus Darwin, the grandfather of Charles Darwin. Erasmus was a physician known for being one of the founders of The Age of Enlightenment, a period in the 17th and 18th centuries where knowledge, reason, and philosophy began replacing religious ideals. In discussing Darwin's work, Byron and Percy thought about the possibility of reanimating dead bodies. That evening, Shelley has recounted having a nightmare on which her ghost story, Frankenstein, is based.

cartoon image of the monster from frankenstein

Shelley worked on her novel into the new year and finished it in May of 1817. The first edition of the text was heavily influenced by Shelley's now-husband, Percy, and it was published anonymously with Percy acting as its agent. Frankenstein received incredible success when it was published in 1818. Readers engaged with its scientific theme of reanimating a corpse while loving the writing's Gothic motif and unsettling descriptions. The novel was reviewed favorably by some of the most popular journalists and novelists in Europe at the time.

The text was first adapted for the stage in 1823, which Shelley was amused by; however, the stage adaptation deprived the monster of his voice while engaging him through exaggerated gestures. This interpretation of the monster may be the beginning stage for why audiences into the 21st century believe that the name Frankenstein references the monster instead of the doctor who created him. Shelley substantially revised the novel for the edition that was published in 1831; after this edition, she did no further work on the text.

Because Shelley’s version of Frankenstein is such an intense novel it would be hard to fit all components in an hour and eleven minutes of screen time. Writers of the film also cut out certain small characters of the book. More importantly though the film limited the representation of the relationship between Victor Frankenstein and his fiance Elizabeth. In the novel she was quite important and represented important aspects of innocence. Also showing their relationship helped show the pain Victor felt when Elizabeth died. 

Both the book and movie contain elements of the classic horror genre, but choose to portray them differently in order to appeal to their targeted audiences. All adaptations of Frankenstein have brought appeal for a variety of people, allowing everyone to enjoy. No matter who you are or what type of movie or literature you prefer, there’s a version of Frankenstein out there for you. 

✳️Who do you think is a real Monster.

Like that, Chicano Frankenstein was born. In the tradition of novelists, playwrights, filmmakers, animators, and graphic artists before me, I wanted to use Frankenstein to explore how, under the right circumstances, anyone can become a destructive force in society. And that sometimes it can be difficult to know who the monster really is.

My first exposure to Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus came from the 1931 classic Universal Pictures film adaptation. That celluloid creature imprinted itself on my 5-year-old psyche like no other horror movie of my 1960s childhood.

What was it about the monster—gamely played by Boris Karloff—that captured my imagination from the start? Was it the drooping eyes added by makeup artist Jack Pierce at Karloff’s suggestion that made the creature look half-dead? Or perhaps it was the flat skull shaped in such a way to ease the implantation of a cadaver’s brain? Or maybe the monster’s grunts and growls? I wonder if even back then, lurking in my young mind, there was some connection to, and sympathy for, this monster, who didn’t really mean to hurt anyone, right?

When I read Shelley’s novel for the first time in high school, I was surprised, like so many, to discover that the monster remains nameless throughout the book (the name Frankenstein belonged to his obsessed creator, a doctor who dared play God). But the real shock came when I realized that in the book, the monster learns to read and eventually speak rather eloquently. While the creature of the movie evokes fear and sympathy with his grunting monosyllabism, the monster of Shelley’s novel explains in perfect English what drove him to murder: “I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind?”

What It Means to Be American

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How Should Societies Remember Their Sins?

Who Is the Real Monster in Frankenstein?

Mary Shelley’s Novel and Its Many Adaptations Challenge Us to Explore Bias and Belonging  

Author Daniel A. Olivas writes about Chicano Frankenstein, his modern retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and the story’s timeless themes. A still from the 1931 film Frankenstein. Public domain.

By Daniel A. Olivas | June 13, 2024

In 2022, I found myself reaching back to my childhood’s favorite monster for literary inspiration.

That year’s midterm elections had brought with them another round of angry MAGA candidates promoting the Trumpian lie of a stolen 2020 election. Part and parcel of their rhetoric was—yet again—an attack on immigrants and anyone who just didn’t fit in with their image of “real” Americans.

Trump’s wrathful rallying conjured images of the torch-bearing mobs of black-and-white horror films. I thought about Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s 1818 tale—and the inherently political implications of being a “monster” in a society that created you on the one hand and is repulsed by you on the other.

Like that, Chicano Frankenstein was born. In the tradition of novelists, playwrights, filmmakers, animators, and graphic artists before me, I wanted to use Frankenstein to explore how, under the right circumstances, anyone can become a destructive force in society. And that sometimes it can be difficult to know who the monster really is.

My first exposure to Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus came from the 1931 classic Universal Pictures film adaptation. That celluloid creature imprinted itself on my 5-year-old psyche like no other horror movie of my 1960s childhood.

What was it about the monster—gamely played by Boris Karloff—that captured my imagination from the start? Was it the drooping eyes added by makeup artist Jack Pierce at Karloff’s suggestion that made the creature look half-dead? Or perhaps it was the flat skull shaped in such a way to ease the implantation of a cadaver’s brain? Or maybe the monster’s grunts and growls? I wonder if even back then, lurking in my young mind, there was some connection to, and sympathy for, this monster, who didn’t really mean to hurt anyone, right?

When I read Shelley’s novel for the first time in high school, I was surprised, like so many, to discover that the monster remains nameless throughout the book (the name Frankenstein belonged to his obsessed creator, a doctor who dared play God). But the real shock came when I realized that in the book, the monster learns to read and eventually speak rather eloquently. While the creature of the movie evokes fear and sympathy with his grunting monosyllabism, the monster of Shelley’s novel explains in perfect English what drove him to murder: “I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind?”

In the tradition of novelists, playwrights, filmmakers, animators, and graphic artists before me, I wanted to explore how, under the right circumstances, anyone can become a destructive force in society.

In both the original Shelley novel and all the adaptations that followed, it’s telling that one plot point has remained more or less the same: Dr. Frankenstein’s creation is eventually shunned by both his creator and society, and it is this rejection that turns the creature into a monster.

I wanted to reflect on that theme in my modern retelling. As I planned my novel, I envisioned the creature not as a singular entity but as a class of people—reanimated corpses who’ve been brought back from the dead to replenish an aging workforce. After a decade’s worth of reanimation, 12 million of these cruelly mocked “stitchers” now walk among us in the United States—including the hero of Chicano Frankenstein. Other than having been brought back to life after a horrific car accident, our hero is just like any other person holding down a job: He earns a paycheck, attends work-related events, rents an apartment, and runs each evening. But having also lost his left arm and leg in the car accident, the man—described as brown-skinned—has had a replacement arm and leg, both of which are white, “stitched” onto his body. The mismatched limbs flag him as a reanimated subject, marking him for jeers from people who disdain the reanimated population as monsters created by science, who threaten to replace “real” Americans. The story follows his journey, as he attempts to maneuver a world that both needs and resents him.

In my worldbuilding, I determined that the reanimation process should wipe the subjects’ first lives while saving their education and skills. By setting that rule, I could mirror the immigrant’s journey of leaving behind home, family, and friends to become a stranger in a strange land. The “stitcher” epithet also let me explore how those who resent immigrants often rely on dehumanizing language (such as “illegals”) to strip people of their individuality. The irony, of course, is that our country needs immigrants at all levels of employment to replenish our aging population.

✳️Victor Frankenstein's Monster--The Victim.

intensely desires to be a part of society and if the only way he can participate in society is to indulge in evil, then he will. Thus, the being truly becomes the monster that society had feared from the start.

    The danger of a self-fulfilling prophecy is that people become that which they originally were not. As a result, they are unable to live with the person that they have become. The being was not a monster on the inside initially. As the monster says, "I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend" (Shelley 90). Society created his misery by rejecting him. Thus, Victor created the being, but society created the monster. None of these tragic murders would have occurred had someone, anyone, accepted him. The being even says, "If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them an hundred and an hundred fold; for that one creature's sake, I would make peace with the whole kind!"(Shelley 125). His repeated rejections and his intense loneliness lead him to commit acts which he never thought himself capable of committing. Society's expectations are fulfilled, but at the expense of the creature's soul. The monster confesses to Walton, "My heart was fashioned to be susceptible of love and sympathy; and, when wrenched by misery to vice and hatred, it did not endure the violence of the change, without torture such as you cannot imagine" (Shelley 182). The monster has fulfilled the prophecy, but he cannot live with what he has become. Thus, the being ultimately takes his own life.

✳️Should there be limits on scientific exploration? If so, what should those limits be?

All scientific studies have limitations, and no study is perfect. Researchers should not run from this reality, but engage it directly. It is better to directly address the specific limitations of the work in question, and doing so is actually a way to demonstrate an author’s proficiency and aptitude.

Mary Shelley's film by Kenneth Branagh

 

 Frankenstein (1931) Colin Clive as Dr. Frankenstein (left) and Boris Karloff as the monster in Frankenstein (1931), directed by James Whale. 

Frankenstein:

the title character in Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s novel Frankenstein, the prototypical “mad scientist” who creates a monster by which he is eventually killed. The name Frankenstein has become popularly attached to the creature itself, who has become one of the best-known monsters in the history of motion pictures.

Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein: or, the Modern Prometheus (1818), is a combination of Gothic horror story and science fiction. The book tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a Swiss student of natural science who creates an artificial man from pieces of corpses and brings his creature to life. Though it initially seeks affection, the monster inspires loathing in everyone who meets it. Lonely and miserable, the monster turns upon its creator, who eventually loses his life.

The first Frankenstein film was produced by Thomas Edison in 1910. Two German films, The Golem (1914) and Homunculus (1916), dealt with a similar theme derived from Jewish folklore. The Hollywood film Frankenstein (1931), with Boris Karloff as the monster, was based as much on The Golem as on Shelley’s novel. This film was a great success and was followed by dozens of variations on the Frankenstein story in films such as Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and Frankenstein Conquers the World (1969), a Japanese-made version. The character of the monster has also been used as a vehicle for easy humour—as in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) and Mel Brooks’s Young Frankenstein (1974).

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.

born August 30, 1797, London, England—died February 1, 1851, London) was an English Romantic novelist best known as the author of Frankenstein.

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Last Updated: Sep 19, 2024 • Article History

Frankenstein (1931)

Frankenstein (1931) Colin Clive as Dr. Frankenstein (left) and Boris Karloff as the monster in Frankenstein (1931), directed by James Whale. 

Frankenstein, the title character in Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s novel Frankenstein, the prototypical “mad scientist” who creates a monster by which he is eventually killed. The name Frankenstein has become popularly attached to the creature itself, who has become one of the best-known monsters in the history of motion pictures.

Mary Shelley and the birth of Frankenstein

Mary Shelley and the birth of FrankensteinOn January 1, 1818, a small London publisher printed 500 copies of Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus on the cheapest paper available. This was only the beginning.

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Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein: or, the Modern Prometheus (1818), is a combination of Gothic horror story and science fiction. The book tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a Swiss student of natural science who creates an artificial man from pieces of corpses and brings his creature to life. Though it initially seeks affection, the monster inspires loathing in everyone who meets it. Lonely and miserable, the monster turns upon its creator, who eventually loses his life.

A child wearing a sheet for a Halloween ghost costume. Holiday Trick-or-treat

Monsters, Ghouls, and Ghosts Quiz

The first Frankenstein film was produced by Thomas Edison in 1910. Two German films, The Golem (1914) and Homunculus (1916), dealt with a similar theme derived from Jewish folklore. The Hollywood film Frankenstein (1931), with Boris Karloff as the monster, was based as much on The Golem as on Shelley’s novel. This film was a great success and was followed by dozens of variations on the Frankenstein story in films such as Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and Frankenstein Conquers the World (1969), a Japanese-made version. The character of the monster has also been used as a vehicle for easy humour—as in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) and Mel Brooks’s Young Frankenstein (1974).

The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica

This article was most recently revised and updated by Meg Matthias.

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Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

British author

Also known as: Mary Wollstonecra

Last Updated: Aug 26, 2024 • Article History

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, oil on canvas by Richard Rothwell, first exhibited 1840; in the National Portrait Gallery, London.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (born August 30, 1797, London, England—died February 1, 1851, London) was an English Romantic novelist best known as the author of Frankenstein.

Mary Shelley and the birth of Frankenstein

Mary Shelley and the birth of FrankensteinOn January 1, 1818, a small London publisher printed 500 copies of Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus on the cheapest paper available. This was only the beginning.

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Quick Facts

Née: Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin

Born: August 30, 1797, London, England

Died: February 1, 1851, London (aged 53)

Notable Works: “Falkner” “Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus” “History of a Six Weeks’ Tour” “Lodore” “Selected Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley” “The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck” “The Journals of Mary Shelley, 1814-1844” “The Last Man” “Valperga”

Movement / Style: Romanticism

Notable Family Members: father William Godwin mother Mary Wollstonecraft

The only daughter of William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft, she met the young poet Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1812 and eloped with him to France in July 1814. The couple were married in 1816, after Shelley’s first wife had committed suicide. After her husband’s death in 1822, she returned to England and devoted herself to publicizing Shelley’s writings and to educating their only surviving child, Percy Florence Shelley. She published her late husband’s Posthumous Poems (1824); she also edited his Poetical Works (1839), with long and invaluable notes, and his prose works. Her Journal is a rich source of Shelley biography, and her letters are an indispensable adjunct.

Mary Shelley’s best-known book is Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818, revised 1831), a text that is part Gothic novel and part philosophical novel; it is also often considered an early example of science fiction. It narrates the dreadful consequences that arise after a scientist has artificially created a human being. (The man-made monster in this novel inspired a similar creature in numerous American horror films.) She wrote several other novels, including Valperga (1823), The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck (1830), Lodore (1835), and Falkner (1837); The Last Man (1826), an account of the future destruction of the human race by a plague, is often ranked as her best work. Her travel book History of a Six Weeks’ Tour (1817) recounts the continental tour she and Shelley took in 1814 following their elopement and then recounts their summer near Geneva in 1816.

Late 20th-century publications of her casual writings include The Journals of Mary Shelley, 1814–1844 (1987), edited by Paula R. Feldman and Diana Scott-Kilvert, and Selected Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1995), edited by Betty T. Bennett.

✴️Pride & Prejudice.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.” — Joe Wright (Quoted in Focus Features, 2011).

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

More than just a sumptuous adaptation.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.” — Joe Wright (Quoted in Focus Features, 2011)

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

More than just a sumptuous adaptation.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.” — Joe Wright (Quoted in Focus Features, 2011)

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.”

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

More than just a sumptuous adaptatio.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.” — Joe Wright (Quoted in Focus Features, 2011)

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.” — Tim Bevan & Eric Fellner .

The most striking and complex shot of the film that encapsulates Wright’s talent occurs during the dance at Netherfield Park. Here, he weaves together several narrative threads in nearly three minutes as we follow the different members of the Bennet family interacting with one another at the ball. The seamless transitions between subjects as the camera moves around the environment demonstrates the embarrassment that Elizabeth is subject to as a result of her family’s behaviour, as well as her beloved sister’s bourgeoning relationship with Mr Bingley (in addition to her friend Charlotte’s (Claudie Blakley) concern for Jane’s reserved nature).

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.” — Joe Wright (Quoted in Focus Features, 2011)

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.” — Tim Bevan & Eric Fellner (2011: para 4)

The most striking and complex shot of the film that encapsulates Wright’s talent occurs during the dance at Netherfield Park. Here, he weaves together several narrative threads in nearly three minutes as we follow the different members of the Bennet family interacting with one another at the ball. The seamless transitions between subjects as the camera moves around the environment demonstrates the embarrassment that Elizabeth is subject to as a result of her family’s behaviour, as well as her beloved sister’s bourgeoning relationship with Mr Bingley (in addition to her friend Charlotte’s (Claudie Blakley) concern for Jane’s reserved nature).

The take starts and ends with Elizabeth as she witnesses her father trying to hush Mary as she makes an awkward performance on the piano. As the camera tracks back we see the bumbling and comic Mr Collins (Tom Hollander) enter from the left, his inconsequential nature emphasised by the small scale he occupies within the frame. As Jane (the only one of her siblings not seen as an embarrassment) and Bingley appear from the right and walk into the next room, Wright’s camera tilts down to capture him touching her dress, which sets up Darcy overhearing Mrs Bennet’s boasts about Jane’s expected marriage. Within the sequence we also see her mother and siblings drunkenly stumbling around the venue.

Gibbs and Pye write that long takes often ‘evoke the sense of an observing presence’ (2017: 11), and similar to the long introductory shot in Robert Altman’s The Player (1992) for example, which brings audiences immediately into a wonderfully satirised world of a Hollywood film studio, this scene feels similarly immersive as it invites us to peek into the window of a different era almost voyeuristically. Class distinctions are established immediately as the Bennet family’s excited behaviour makes it clear that they’re not used to such a grand gathering, while the rich characters such as Darcy and Caroline Bingley (Kelly Reilly) who are accustomed to such a setting simply blend into their surroundings. Showing all of this in real-time serves to highlight this sense that Lizzie’s shame has been never-ending throughout the night, with no edits to offer a respite from her family’s behaviour.

The continuous take also gives a sense of immediacy to the film, in a society where women had to marry to ensure security since they were unable to inherit money, the uninterrupted shot establishes a tone that time is fleeting and it’s appropriate that such a shot is used at a ball — as Kica writes, ‘most of the girls of the eighteenth century attended balls to find husbands’ (2017: 4). While this scene was initially conceived as a montage, the dynamic, kinetic energy from the constantly mobile camera was Joe Wright’s way of converting the liveliness of Jane Austen’s prose into a visual form:

“The constant movement of the camera felt like an equivalent to the sense of energy and excitement about her [Jane Austen’s] talent that comes across to me when reading the book.”

It’s fitting that the take ends with Lizzy standing in a desolate room as a isolated, solitary figure. As a free-spirited, slightly rebellious woman characterised by her individuality, Wright often separates her from others in the story. In so doing, he utilises and contrasts the indoor and outdoor environments of the picture to establish several important characteristics of both her and Darcy. Altomari argues that in Jane Austen’s fiction, the outdoors represents ‘an escape from the claustrophobic rage and suffocation of domesticity’ (1990: 51). Indeed, it’s clear that Lizzy finds solace in nature from one of the very first shots of the film, which is that of her alone, walking in the fields and then amongst the white sheets of washing surrounding her house at dawn. These early moments not only serve to instantly mark her independent spirit by having her differentiated from the rest of the family (even when indoors, Wright parts her at Netherfield Hall by placing her on a different sofa to three of her other sisters), but to also establish her reliance on nature as a form of respite and escape from the confinement of the different situations she finds herself in (she often wears earthy colours such as greens and browns too).

‘In Jane Austen’s works, location and setting are just as critical as dialogue and character to overall plot. Pride and Prejudice demonstrates the relevance of location to the personalities, compatibility and courtships.’ 

Similarly, Darcy is often “enclosed” within his environments whenever placed in an interior setting within the film. For instance, the way Wright cleverly blocks his actors in the below shot instantly underscores the social values and expectations of the time period, in addition to Darcy’s conflicted and repressed desires. While on the one hand Caroline Bingley on the left represents a class of woman who Darcy should be marrying, Elizabeth on the right is who Darcy has actually fallen for, despite her status and financial inferiority. Roger Ebert described the picture as one where the character’s ‘minds are at war with their hearts’ (2006: 549) and Wright’s decision to capture the three of them all in the same frame as the two women almost drift in the back of Darcy’s mind demonstrates how torn he feels with his emotions without even needing any dialogue.

‘The first section of Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice establishes Elizabeth and Darcy as Romantic figures through their individual isolation in an uncongenial social world.’

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

More than just a sumptuous adaptation

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.”

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.” 

The most striking and complex shot of the film that encapsulates Wright’s talent occurs during the dance at Netherfield Park. Here, he weaves together several narrative threads in nearly three minutes as we follow the different members of the Bennet family interacting with one another at the ball. The seamless transitions between subjects as the camera moves around the environment demonstrates the embarrassment that Elizabeth is subject to as a result of her family’s behaviour, as well as her beloved sister’s bourgeoning relationship with Mr Bingley (in addition to her friend Charlotte’s (Claudie Blakley) concern for Jane’s reserved nature).

The take starts and ends with Elizabeth as she witnesses her father trying to hush Mary as she makes an awkward performance on the piano. As the camera tracks back we see the bumbling and comic Mr Collins (Tom Hollander) enter from the left, his inconsequential nature emphasised by the small scale he occupies within the frame. As Jane (the only one of her siblings not seen as an embarrassment) and Bingley appear from the right and walk into the next room, Wright’s camera tilts down to capture him touching her dress, which sets up Darcy overhearing Mrs Bennet’s boasts about Jane’s expected marriage. Within the sequence we also see her mother and siblings drunkenly stumbling around the venue.

Gibbs and Pye write that long takes often ‘evoke the sense of an observing presence’ (2017: 11), and similar to the long introductory shot in Robert Altman’s The Player (1992) for example, which brings audiences immediately into a wonderfully satirised world of a Hollywood film studio, this scene feels similarly immersive as it invites us to peek into the window of a different era almost voyeuristically. Class distinctions are established immediately as the Bennet family’s excited behaviour makes it clear that they’re not used to such a grand gathering, while the rich characters such as Darcy and Caroline Bingley (Kelly Reilly) who are accustomed to such a setting simply blend into their surroundings. Showing all of this in real-time serves to highlight this sense that Lizzie’s shame has been never-ending throughout the night, with no edits to offer a respite from her family’s behaviour.

The continuous take also gives a sense of immediacy to the film, in a society where women had to marry to ensure security since they were unable to inherit money, the uninterrupted shot establishes a tone that time is fleeting and it’s appropriate that such a shot is used at a ball — as Kica writes, ‘most of the girls of the eighteenth century attended balls to find husbands’ (2017: 4). While this scene was initially conceived as a montage, the dynamic, kinetic energy from the constantly mobile camera was Joe Wright’s way of converting the liveliness of Jane Austen’s prose into a visual form:

“The constant movement of the camera felt like an equivalent to the sense of energy and excitement about her [Jane Austen’s] talent that comes across to me when reading the book.”

It’s fitting that the take ends with Lizzy standing in a desolate room as a isolated, solitary figure. As a free-spirited, slightly rebellious woman characterised by her individuality, Wright often separates her from others in the story. In so doing, he utilises and contrasts the indoor and outdoor environments of the picture to establish several important characteristics of both her and Darcy. Altomari argues that in Jane Austen’s fiction, the outdoors represents ‘an escape from the claustrophobic rage and suffocation of domesticity’ (1990: 51). Indeed, it’s clear that Lizzy finds solace in nature from one of the very first shots of the film, which is that of her alone, walking in the fields and then amongst the white sheets of washing surrounding her house at dawn. These early moments not only serve to instantly mark her independent spirit by having her differentiated from the rest of the family (even when indoors, Wright parts her at Netherfield Hall by placing her on a different sofa to three of her other sisters), but to also establish her reliance on nature as a form of respite and escape from the confinement of the different situations she finds herself in (she often wears earthy colours such as greens and browns too).

‘In Jane Austen’s works, location and setting are just as critical as dialogue and character to overall plot. Pride and Prejudice demonstrates the relevance of location to the personalities, compatibility and courtships.’ 

Similarly, Darcy is often “enclosed” within his environments whenever placed in an interior setting within the film. For instance, the way Wright cleverly blocks his actors in the below shot instantly underscores the social values and expectations of the time period, in addition to Darcy’s conflicted and repressed desires. While on the one hand Caroline Bingley on the left represents a class of woman who Darcy should be marrying, Elizabeth on the right is who Darcy has actually fallen for, despite her status and financial inferiority. Roger Ebert described the picture as one where the character’s ‘minds are at war with their hearts’ (2006: 549) and Wright’s decision to capture the three of them all in the same frame as the two women almost drift in the back of Darcy’s mind demonstrates how torn he feels with his emotions without even needing any dialogue.

‘The first section of Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice establishes Elizabeth and Darcy as Romantic figures through their individual isolation in an uncongenial social world.’

In addition to employing the environments to establish the confinements of the time period, Wright also uses them to indicate to us that Darcy and Elizabeth actually have more in common than they realise, certainly more than they are prepared to admit in the early stages of their relationship. Fraiman states that Lizzie’s aforementioned love of the outdoors, and the way Wright often distinguishes her from the rest of her family, marks her ‘as a kind of outsider’ (2010: para 7). Given Darcy’s lack of talent in social situations and his reluctance to participate in “normal” activities (the first dance at Meryton for example), he similarly can be classed as an outsider, particularly when considering that many people view his behaviour as proud and unpleasant.

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

More than just a sumptuous adaptation.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.” 

The most striking and complex shot of the film that encapsulates Wright’s talent occurs during the dance at Netherfield Park. Here, he weaves together several narrative threads in nearly three minutes as we follow the different members of the Bennet family interacting with one another at the ball. The seamless transitions between subjects as the camera moves around the environment demonstrates the embarrassment that Elizabeth is subject to as a result of her family’s behaviour, as well as her beloved sister’s bourgeoning relationship with Mr Bingley (in addition to her friend Charlotte’s (Claudie Blakley) concern for Jane’s reserved nature).

The take starts and ends with Elizabeth as she witnesses her father trying to hush Mary as she makes an awkward performance on the piano. As the camera tracks back we see the bumbling and comic Mr Collins (Tom Hollander) enter from the left, his inconsequential nature emphasised by the small scale he occupies within the frame. As Jane (the only one of her siblings not seen as an embarrassment) and Bingley appear from the right and walk into the next room, Wright’s camera tilts down to capture him touching her dress, which sets up Darcy overhearing Mrs Bennet’s boasts about Jane’s expected marriage. Within the sequence we also see her mother and siblings drunkenly stumbling around the venue.

Gibbs and Pye write that long takes often ‘evoke the sense of an observing presence’ (2017: 11), and similar to the long introductory shot in Robert Altman’s The Player (1992) for example, which brings audiences immediately into a wonderfully satirised world of a Hollywood film studio, this scene feels similarly immersive as it invites us to peek into the window of a different era almost voyeuristically. Class distinctions are established immediately as the Bennet family’s excited behaviour makes it clear that they’re not used to such a grand gathering, while the rich characters such as Darcy and Caroline Bingley (Kelly Reilly) who are accustomed to such a setting simply blend into their surroundings. Showing all of this in real-time serves to highlight this sense that Lizzie’s shame has been never-ending throughout the night, with no edits to offer a respite from her family’s behaviour.

The continuous take also gives a sense of immediacy to the film, in a society where women had to marry to ensure security since they were unable to inherit money, the uninterrupted shot establishes a tone that time is fleeting and it’s appropriate that such a shot is used at a ball — as Kica writes, ‘most of the girls of the eighteenth century attended balls to find husbands’ (2017: 4). While this scene was initially conceived as a montage, the dynamic, kinetic energy from the constantly mobile camera was Joe Wright’s way of converting the liveliness of Jane Austen’s prose into a visual form:

“The constant movement of the camera felt like an equivalent to the sense of energy and excitement about her [Jane Austen’s] talent that comes across to me when reading the book

It’s fitting that the take ends with Lizzy standing in a desolate room as a isolated, solitary figure. As a free-spirited, slightly rebellious woman characterised by her individuality, Wright often separates her from others in the story. In so doing, he utilises and contrasts the indoor and outdoor environments of the picture to establish several important characteristics of both her and Darcy. Altomari argues that in Jane Austen’s fiction, the outdoors represents ‘an escape from the claustrophobic rage and suffocation of domesticity’ (1990: 51). Indeed, it’s clear that Lizzy finds solace in nature from one of the very first shots of the film, which is that of her alone, walking in the fields and then amongst the white sheets of washing surrounding her house at dawn. These early moments not only serve to instantly mark her independent spirit by having her differentiated from the rest of the family (even when indoors, Wright parts her at Netherfield Hall by placing her on a different sofa to three of her other sisters), but to also establish her reliance on nature as a form of respite and escape from the confinement of the different situations she finds herself in (she often wears earthy colours such as greens and browns too).

‘In Jane Austen’s works, location and setting are just as critical as dialogue and character to overall plot. Pride and Prejudice demonstrates the relevance of location to the personalities, compatibility and courtships.’ 

Similarly, Darcy is often “enclosed” within his environments whenever placed in an interior setting within the film. For instance, the way Wright cleverly blocks his actors in the below shot instantly underscores the social values and expectations of the time period, in addition to Darcy’s conflicted and repressed desires. While on the one hand Caroline Bingley on the left represents a class of woman who Darcy should be marrying, Elizabeth on the right is who Darcy has actually fallen for, despite her status and financial inferiority. Roger Ebert described the picture as one where the character’s ‘minds are at war with their hearts’ (2006: 549) and Wright’s decision to capture the three of them all in the same frame as the two women almost drift in the back of Darcy’s mind demonstrates how torn he feels with his emotions without even needing any dialogue.

‘The first section of Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice establishes Elizabeth and Darcy as Romantic figures through their individual isolation in an uncongenial social world.’ 

In addition to employing the environments to establish the confinements of the time period, Wright also uses them to indicate to us that Darcy and Elizabeth actually have more in common than they realise, certainly more than they are prepared to admit in the early stages of their relationship. Fraiman states that Lizzie’s aforementioned love of the outdoors, and the way Wright often distinguishes her from the rest of her family, marks her ‘as a kind of outsider’ (2010: para 7). Given Darcy’s lack of talent in social situations and his reluctance to participate in “normal” activities (the first dance at Meryton for example), he similarly can be classed as an outsider, particularly when considering that many people view his behaviour as proud and unpleasant.

The setting of Darcy’s first disastrous proposal is key to the idea that the two characters harbour similar personalities without realising it - occurring after Lizzy has learnt about Darcy’s sabotage of Jane and Bingley’s relationship. After hearing the distressing news she withdraws not to the sanctity of a private room but to the gardens of Rosings. It is here where she is interrupted by Darcy who has also retreated to the comfort of the outdoors, ‘suggesting that the natural world similarly provides him with escape and freedom’ (Ailwood, 2007: para 23). Despite the proposal itself being a “car crash” in Joe Wright’s words (hence the speed of the dialogue), the setting — an environment Elizabeth derives so much joy from — is a far cry from that of Mr Collins’ loveless proposal at the breakfast table… in front of a leg of ham.(Coincidently she flees to the apparent security of the pond by Longbourn after this encounter).

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

More than just a sumptuous adaptation.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.” 

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.”

The most striking and complex shot of the film that encapsulates Wright’s talent occurs during the dance at Netherfield Park. Here, he weaves together several narrative threads in nearly three minutes as we follow the different members of the Bennet family interacting with one another at the ball. The seamless transitions between subjects as the camera moves around the environment demonstrates the embarrassment that Elizabeth is subject to as a result of her family’s behaviour, as well as her beloved sister’s bourgeoning relationship with Mr Bingley (in addition to her friend Charlotte’s (Claudie Blakley) concern for Jane’s reserved nature).

The take starts and ends with Elizabeth as she witnesses her father trying to hush Mary as she makes an awkward performance on the piano. As the camera tracks back we see the bumbling and comic Mr Collins (Tom Hollander) enter from the left, his inconsequential nature emphasised by the small scale he occupies within the frame. As Jane (the only one of her siblings not seen as an embarrassment) and Bingley appear from the right and walk into the next room, Wright’s camera tilts down to capture him touching her dress, which sets up Darcy overhearing Mrs Bennet’s boasts about Jane’s expected marriage. Within the sequence we also see her mother and siblings drunkenly stumbling around the venue.

Gibbs and Pye write that long takes often ‘evoke the sense of an observing presence’ (2017: 11), and similar to the long introductory shot in Robert Altman’s The Player (1992) for example, which brings audiences immediately into a wonderfully satirised world of a Hollywood film studio, this scene feels similarly immersive as it invites us to peek into the window of a different era almost voyeuristically. Class distinctions are established immediately as the Bennet family’s excited behaviour makes it clear that they’re not used to such a grand gathering, while the rich characters such as Darcy and Caroline Bingley (Kelly Reilly) who are accustomed to such a setting simply blend into their surroundings. Showing all of this in real-time serves to highlight this sense that Lizzie’s shame has been never-ending throughout the night, with no edits to offer a respite from her family’s behaviour.

The continuous take also gives a sense of immediacy to the film, in a society where women had to marry to ensure security since they were unable to inherit money, the uninterrupted shot establishes a tone that time is fleeting and it’s appropriate that such a shot is used at a ball — as Kica writes, ‘most of the girls of the eighteenth century attended balls to find husbands’ (2017: 4). While this scene was initially conceived as a montage, the dynamic, kinetic energy from the constantly mobile camera was Joe Wright’s way of converting the liveliness of Jane Austen’s prose into a visual form:

“The constant movement of the camera felt like an equivalent to the sense of energy and excitement about her [Jane Austen’s] talent that comes across to me when reading the book.”

It’s fitting that the take ends with Lizzy standing in a desolate room as a isolated, solitary figure. As a free-spirited, slightly rebellious woman characterised by her individuality, Wright often separates her from others in the story. In so doing, he utilises and contrasts the indoor and outdoor environments of the picture to establish several important characteristics of both her and Darcy. Altomari argues that in Jane Austen’s fiction, the outdoors represents ‘an escape from the claustrophobic rage and suffocation of domesticity’ (1990: 51). Indeed, it’s clear that Lizzy finds solace in nature from one of the very first shots of the film, which is that of her alone, walking in the fields and then amongst the white sheets of washing surrounding her house at dawn. These early moments not only serve to instantly mark her independent spirit by having her differentiated from the rest of the family (even when indoors, Wright parts her at Netherfield Hall by placing her on a different sofa to three of her other sisters), but to also establish her reliance on nature as a form of respite and escape from the confinement of the different situations she finds herself in (she often wears earthy colours such as greens and browns too).

‘In Jane Austen’s works, location and setting are just as critical as dialogue and character to overall plot. Pride and Prejudice demonstrates the relevance of location to the personalities, compatibility and courtships.’

Similarly, Darcy is often “enclosed” within his environments whenever placed in an interior setting within the film. For instance, the way Wright cleverly blocks his actors in the below shot instantly underscores the social values and expectations of the time period, in addition to Darcy’s conflicted and repressed desires. While on the one hand Caroline Bingley on the left represents a class of woman who Darcy should be marrying, Elizabeth on the right is who Darcy has actually fallen for, despite her status and financial inferiority. Roger Ebert described the picture as one where the character’s ‘minds are at war with their hearts’ (2006: 549) and Wright’s decision to capture the three of them all in the same frame as the two women almost drift in the back of Darcy’s mind demonstrates how torn he feels with his emotions without even needing any dialogue.

‘The first section of Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice establishes Elizabeth and Darcy as Romantic figures through their individual isolation in an uncongenial social world.’ 

In addition to employing the environments to establish the confinements of the time period, Wright also uses them to indicate to us that Darcy and Elizabeth actually have more in common than they realise, certainly more than they are prepared to admit in the early stages of their relationship. Fraiman states that Lizzie’s aforementioned love of the outdoors, and the way Wright often distinguishes her from the rest of her family, marks her ‘as a kind of outsider’ (2010: para 7). Given Darcy’s lack of talent in social situations and his reluctance to participate in “normal” activities (the first dance at Meryton for example), he similarly can be classed as an outsider, particularly when considering that many people view his behaviour as proud and unpleasant.

The setting of Darcy’s first disastrous proposal is key to the idea that the two characters harbour similar personalities without realising it - occurring after Lizzy has learnt about Darcy’s sabotage of Jane and Bingley’s relationship. After hearing the distressing news she withdraws not to the sanctity of a private room but to the gardens of Rosings. It is here where she is interrupted by Darcy who has also retreated to the comfort of the outdoors, ‘suggesting that the natural world similarly provides him with escape and freedom’ (Ailwood, 2007: para 23). Despite the proposal itself being a “car crash” in Joe Wright’s words (hence the speed of the dialogue), the setting — an environment Elizabeth derives so much joy from — is a far cry from that of Mr Collins’ loveless proposal at the breakfast table… in front of a leg of ham.(Coincidently she flees to the apparent security of the pond by Longbourn after this encounter).

Changing the location of this moment to that of the book (where it occurs indoors) was one of many ways that Joe Wright sought to make his adaptation more cinematic: “Austen set her scenes in parlours and people’s front rooms. And I wanted to take it out of the parlours. It’s not interesting to set everything inside” (Wright, Quoted in Abeel, 2005: para 53). The exterior setting also heightens the emotional power of the scene as Wright is also able to employ the added effect of the stormy weather. As McKim argues, rain in films serve to ‘manifest otherwise latent desire, accelerate the pacing and intensify the sensation of a scene’ (2013: 92). The significance of Darcy’s hurtful words to Lizzy during this scene are stressed by the prominent sounds of weather in the background during their conversation. For example, a loud and noticeable thunderclap is heard just after he delivers his stinging monologue regarding the ill behaviour of Elizabeth’s other family members to her.

“I wanted a sense of the elements, of mud and rain. It occurred to me that love is an elemental force.”

This idea comes full circle during Darcy’s second, successful proposal at dawn where, echoing Lizzy’s own on-foot trek to Netherfield Hall, he is seen crossing a field on foot, having made the journey to her house not on horseback but by walking, something she told him she was fond of (Wright even ends this scene with a sunrise, just as he had started the picture). Once again the outdoors provides a haven for the two characters who both reveal that they were unable to sleep due to the events of the day before. Paquet-Deyris writes that ‘just as the line of sheets obstructs vision in the prologue, so is the heroine’s full perception hampered for the longest time in the film’ (2007: para 17). This hampered and negative initial perception that Lizzy holds for Darcy is gradually undone by Wright through his utilisation of setting and location — establishing that the two characters both have independent (and therefore similar) personalities with a love and reliance of nature’s refuge.

What sets Pride and Prejudice apart from the many adaptations is this emphasis on nature, which ‘becomes an unnamed but essential character to the audience’s understanding of the story… acting as a narrator by mirroring Elizabeth’s inner thoughts’

“They [Elizabeth and Darcy] both belong in a landscape teeming with life and expressive weather… a reflection, ultimately, of their personal, moral and social compatibility.” 

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

More than just a sumptuous adaptation.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.” 

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.”

The most striking and complex shot of the film that encapsulates Wright’s talent occurs during the dance at Netherfield Park. Here, he weaves together several narrative threads in nearly three minutes as we follow the different members of the Bennet family interacting with one another at the ball. The seamless transitions between subjects as the camera moves around the environment demonstrates the embarrassment that Elizabeth is subject to as a result of her family’s behaviour, as well as her beloved sister’s bourgeoning relationship with Mr Bingley (in addition to her friend Charlotte’s (Claudie Blakley) concern for Jane’s reserved nature).

The take starts and ends with Elizabeth as she witnesses her father trying to hush Mary as she makes an awkward performance on the piano. As the camera tracks back we see the bumbling and comic Mr Collins (Tom Hollander) enter from the left, his inconsequential nature emphasised by the small scale he occupies within the frame. As Jane (the only one of her siblings not seen as an embarrassment) and Bingley appear from the right and walk into the next room, Wright’s camera tilts down to capture him touching her dress, which sets up Darcy overhearing Mrs Bennet’s boasts about Jane’s expected marriage. Within the sequence we also see her mother and siblings drunkenly stumbling around the venue.

Gibbs and Pye write that long takes often ‘evoke the sense of an observing presence’ (2017: 11), and similar to the long introductory shot in Robert Altman’s The Player (1992) for example, which brings audiences immediately into a wonderfully satirised world of a Hollywood film studio, this scene feels similarly immersive as it invites us to peek into the window of a different era almost voyeuristically. Class distinctions are established immediately as the Bennet family’s excited behaviour makes it clear that they’re not used to such a grand gathering, while the rich characters such as Darcy and Caroline Bingley (Kelly Reilly) who are accustomed to such a setting simply blend into their surroundings. Showing all of this in real-time serves to highlight this sense that Lizzie’s shame has been never-ending throughout the night, with no edits to offer a respite from her family’s behaviour.

The continuous take also gives a sense of immediacy to the film, in a society where women had to marry to ensure security since they were unable to inherit money, the uninterrupted shot establishes a tone that time is fleeting and it’s appropriate that such a shot is used at a ball — as Kica writes, ‘most of the girls of the eighteenth century attended balls to find husbands’ (2017: 4). While this scene was initially conceived as a montage, the dynamic, kinetic energy from the constantly mobile camera was Joe Wright’s way of converting the liveliness of Jane Austen’s prose into a visual form:

“The constant movement of the camera felt like an equivalent to the sense of energy and excitement about her [Jane Austen’s] talent that comes across to me when reading the book.”

It’s fitting that the take ends with Lizzy standing in a desolate room as a isolated, solitary figure. As a free-spirited, slightly rebellious woman characterised by her individuality, Wright often separates her from others in the story. In so doing, he utilises and contrasts the indoor and outdoor environments of the picture to establish several important characteristics of both her and Darcy. Altomari argues that in Jane Austen’s fiction, the outdoors represents ‘an escape from the claustrophobic rage and suffocation of domesticity’ (1990: 51). Indeed, it’s clear that Lizzy finds solace in nature from one of the very first shots of the film, which is that of her alone, walking in the fields and then amongst the white sheets of washing surrounding her house at dawn. These early moments not only serve to instantly mark her independent spirit by having her differentiated from the rest of the family (even when indoors, Wright parts her at Netherfield Hall by placing her on a different sofa to three of her other sisters), but to also establish her reliance on nature as a form of respite and escape from the confinement of the different situations she finds herself in (she often wears earthy colours such as greens and browns too).

‘In Jane Austen’s works, location and setting are just as critical as dialogue and character to overall plot. Pride and Prejudice demonstrates the relevance of location to the personalities, compatibility and courtships

Similarly, Darcy is often “enclosed” within his environments whenever placed in an interior setting within the film. For instance, the way Wright cleverly blocks his actors in the below shot instantly underscores the social values and expectations of the time period, in addition to Darcy’s conflicted and repressed desires. While on the one hand Caroline Bingley on the left represents a class of woman who Darcy should be marrying, Elizabeth on the right is who Darcy has actually fallen for, despite her status and financial inferiority. Roger Ebert described the picture as one where the character’s ‘minds are at war with their hearts’ (2006: 549) and Wright’s decision to capture the three of them all in the same frame as the two women almost drift in the back of Darcy’s mind demonstrates how torn he feels with his emotions without even needing any dialogue.

‘The first section of Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice establishes Elizabeth and Darcy as Romantic figures through their individual isolation in an uncongenial social world.’ 

In addition to employing the environments to establish the confinements of the time period, Wright also uses them to indicate to us that Darcy and Elizabeth actually have more in common than they realise, certainly more than they are prepared to admit in the early stages of their relationship. Fraiman states that Lizzie’s aforementioned love of the outdoors, and the way Wright often distinguishes her from the rest of her family, marks her ‘as a kind of outsider’ (2010: para 7). Given Darcy’s lack of talent in social situations and his reluctance to participate in “normal” activities (the first dance at Meryton for example), he similarly can be classed as an outsider, particularly when considering that many people view his behaviour as proud and unpleasant.

The setting of Darcy’s first disastrous proposal is key to the idea that the two characters harbour similar personalities without realising it - occurring after Lizzy has learnt about Darcy’s sabotage of Jane and Bingley’s relationship. After hearing the distressing news she withdraws not to the sanctity of a private room but to the gardens of Rosings. It is here where she is interrupted by Darcy who has also retreated to the comfort of the outdoors, ‘suggesting that the natural world similarly provides him with escape and freedom’ (Ailwood, 2007: para 23). Despite the proposal itself being a “car crash” in Joe Wright’s words (hence the speed of the dialogue), the setting — an environment Elizabeth derives so much joy from — is a far cry from that of Mr Collins’ loveless proposal at the breakfast table… in front of a leg of ham.(Coincidently she flees to the apparent security of the pond by Longbourn after this encounter).

Changing the location of this moment to that of the book (where it occurs indoors) was one of many ways that Joe Wright sought to make his adaptation more cinematic: “Austen set her scenes in parlours and people’s front rooms. And I wanted to take it out of the parlours. It’s not interesting to set everything inside” (Wright, Quoted in Abeel, 2005: para 53). The exterior setting also heightens the emotional power of the scene as Wright is also able to employ the added effect of the stormy weather. As McKim argues, rain in films serve to ‘manifest otherwise latent desire, accelerate the pacing and intensify the sensation of a scene’ (2013: 92). The significance of Darcy’s hurtful words to Lizzy during this scene are stressed by the prominent sounds of weather in the background during their conversation. For example, a loud and noticeable thunderclap is heard just after he delivers his stinging monologue regarding the ill behaviour of Elizabeth’s other family members to her.

“I wanted a sense of the elements, of mud and rain. It occurred to me that love is an elemental force.

This idea comes full circle during Darcy’s second, successful proposal at dawn where, echoing Lizzy’s own on-foot trek to Netherfield Hall, he is seen crossing a field on foot, having made the journey to her house not on horseback but by walking, something she told him she was fond of (Wright even ends this scene with a sunrise, just as he had started the picture). Once again the outdoors provides a haven for the two characters who both reveal that they were unable to sleep due to the events of the day before. Paquet-Deyris writes that ‘just as the line of sheets obstructs vision in the prologue, so is the heroine’s full perception hampered for the longest time in the film’ (2007: para 17). This hampered and negative initial perception that Lizzy holds for Darcy is gradually undone by Wright through his utilisation of setting and location — establishing that the two characters both have independent (and therefore similar) personalities with a love and reliance of nature’s refuge.

What sets Pride and Prejudice apart from the many adaptations is this emphasis on nature, which ‘becomes an unnamed but essential character to the audience’s understanding of the story… acting as a narrator by mirroring Elizabeth’s inner thoughts’ 

“They [Elizabeth and Darcy] both belong in a landscape teeming with life and expressive weather… a reflection, ultimately, of their personal, moral and social compatibility.” 

This second proposal scene is notable for its similarity to the film’s aforementioned opening, also set amongst the morning fog of the countryside. Use of repetition in Pride and Prejudice also extends to Dario Marianelli’s beautiful score for the film, specifically with the track entitled ‘Dawn’ which is the first song that is played, heard later on when Elizabeth visits Pemberley. In this scene, Lizzy explores the grounds of Darcy’s estate, believing him to be out of town. As she surveys the luxury of the interiors, faint music can be heard in the distance; which turns out to be Darcy’s sister, who is extremely accomplished on the piano. Having Georgiana (Tamzin Merchant) play the same track that is used in the opening when Lizzy is roaming the countryside surrounding her house was Wright’s way of indicating and foreshadowing the idea that our heroine was always “at home” in Darcy’s company. Despite the opulence of Pemberley being a different world entirely to someone of her class, it will turn out to be as much of a home to her as Longbourn, where we first heard that song being played. The conversation between the two that follows after Darcy chases Lizzy outside is also notable for the way that the personalities of the two main characters are reversed almost — with the usually confident and head-strong Elizabeth now the painfully shy one, unable to make eye contact and stumbling over her words in the presence of Darcy now that her perception of him has changed for the better.

Another form of repetition in Pride and Prejudice that Wright employed was this time visual, with his perhaps unusual emphasis on hands within the picture. There are several moments where the frame lingers here, such as when Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage when she leaves Netherfiel.

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.”

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.”

The most striking and complex shot of the film that encapsulates Wright’s talent occurs during the dance at Netherfield Park. Here, he weaves together several narrative threads in nearly three minutes as we follow the different members of the Bennet family interacting with one another at the ball. The seamless transitions between subjects as the camera moves around the environment demonstrates the embarrassment that Elizabeth is subject to as a result of her family’s behaviour, as well as her beloved sister’s bourgeoning relationship with Mr Bingley (in addition to her friend Charlotte’s (Claudie Blakley) concern for Jane’s reserved nature).

The take starts and ends with Elizabeth as she witnesses her father trying to hush Mary as she makes an awkward performance on the piano. As the camera tracks back we see the bumbling and comic Mr Collins (Tom Hollander) enter from the left, his inconsequential nature emphasised by the small scale he occupies within the frame. As Jane (the only one of her siblings not seen as an embarrassment) and Bingley appear from the right and walk into the next room, Wright’s camera tilts down to capture him touching her dress, which sets up Darcy overhearing Mrs Bennet’s boasts about Jane’s expected marriage. Within the sequence we also see her mother and siblings drunkenly stumbling around the venue.

Gibbs and Pye write that long takes often ‘evoke the sense of an observing presence’ (2017: 11), and similar to the long introductory shot in Robert Altman’s The Player (1992) for example, which brings audiences immediately into a wonderfully satirised world of a Hollywood film studio, this scene feels similarly immersive as it invites us to peek into the window of a different era almost voyeuristically. Class distinctions are established immediately as the Bennet family’s excited behaviour makes it clear that they’re not used to such a grand gathering, while the rich characters such as Darcy and Caroline Bingley (Kelly Reilly) who are accustomed to such a setting simply blend into their surroundings. Showing all of this in real-time serves to highlight this sense that Lizzie’s shame has been never-ending throughout the night, with no edits to offer a respite from her family’s behaviour.

The continuous take also gives a sense of immediacy to the film, in a society where women had to marry to ensure security since they were unable to inherit money, the uninterrupted shot establishes a tone that time is fleeting and it’s appropriate that such a shot is used at a ball — as Kica writes, ‘most of the girls of the eighteenth century attended balls to find husbands’ (2017: 4). While this scene was initially conceived as a montage, the dynamic, kinetic energy from the constantly mobile camera was Joe Wright’s way of converting the liveliness of Jane Austen’s prose into a visual form:

“The constant movement of the camera felt like an equivalent to the sense of energy and excitement about her [Jane Austen’s] talent that comes across to me when reading the.

It’s fitting that the take ends with Lizzy standing in a desolate room as a isolated, solitary figure. As a free-spirited, slightly rebellious woman characterised by her individuality, Wright often separates her from others in the story. In so doing, he utilises and contrasts the indoor and outdoor environments of the picture to establish several important characteristics of both her and Darcy. Altomari argues that in Jane Austen’s fiction, the outdoors represents ‘an escape from the claustrophobic rage and suffocation of domesticity’ (1990: 51). Indeed, it’s clear that Lizzy finds solace in nature from one of the very first shots of the film, which is that of her alone, walking in the fields and then amongst the white sheets of washing surrounding her house at dawn. These early moments not only serve to instantly mark her independent spirit by having her differentiated from the rest of the family (even when indoors, Wright parts her at Netherfield Hall by placing her on a different sofa to three of her other sisters), but to also establish her reliance on nature as a form of respite and escape from the confinement of the different situations she finds herself in (she often wears earthy colours such as greens and browns too).

‘In Jane Austen’s works, location and setting are just as critical as dialogue and character to overall plot. Pride and Prejudice demonstrates the relevance of location to the personalities, compatibility and courtships.

Similarly, Darcy is often “enclosed” within his environments whenever placed in an interior setting within the film. For instance, the way Wright cleverly blocks his actors in the below shot instantly underscores the social values and expectations of the time period, in addition to Darcy’s conflicted and repressed desires. While on the one hand Caroline Bingley on the left represents a class of woman who Darcy should be marrying, Elizabeth on the right is who Darcy has actually fallen for, despite her status and financial inferiority. Roger Ebert described the picture as one where the character’s ‘minds are at war with their hearts’ (2006: 549) and Wright’s decision to capture the three of them all in the same frame as the two women almost drift in the back of Darcy’s mind demonstrates how torn he feels with his emotions without even needing any dialogue.

‘The first section of Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice establishes Elizabeth and Darcy as Romantic figures through their individual isolation in an uncongenial social world.’ 

In addition to employing the environments to establish the confinements of the time period, Wright also uses them to indicate to us that Darcy and Elizabeth actually have more in common than they realise, certainly more than they are prepared to admit in the early stages of their relationship. Fraiman states that Lizzie’s aforementioned love of the outdoors, and the way Wright often distinguishes her from the rest of her family, marks her ‘as a kind of outsider’ (2010: para 7). Given Darcy’s lack of talent in social situations and his reluctance to participate in “normal” activities (the first dance at Meryton for example), he similarly can be classed as an outsider, particularly when considering that many people view his behaviour as proud and unpleasant.

The setting of Darcy’s first disastrous proposal is key to the idea that the two characters harbour similar personalities without realising it - occurring after Lizzy has learnt about Darcy’s sabotage of Jane and Bingley’s relationship. After hearing the distressing news she withdraws not to the sanctity of a private room but to the gardens of Rosings. It is here where she is interrupted by Darcy who has also retreated to the comfort of the outdoors, ‘suggesting that the natural world similarly provides him with escape and freedom’ (Ailwood, 2007: para 23). Despite the proposal itself being a “car crash” in Joe Wright’s words (hence the speed of the dialogue), the setting — an environment Elizabeth derives so much joy from — is a far cry from that of Mr Collins’ loveless proposal at the breakfast table… in front of a leg of ham.(Coincidently she flees to the apparent security of the pond by Longbourn after this encounter).

Changing the location of this moment to that of the book (where it occurs indoors) was one of many ways that Joe Wright sought to make his adaptation more cinematic: “Austen set her scenes in parlours and people’s front rooms. And I wanted to take it out of the parlours. It’s not interesting to set everything inside” (Wright, Quoted in Abeel, 2005: para 53). The exterior setting also heightens the emotional power of the scene as Wright is also able to employ the added effect of the stormy weather. As McKim argues, rain in films serve to ‘manifest otherwise latent desire, accelerate the pacing and intensify the sensation of a scene’ (2013: 92). The significance of Darcy’s hurtful words to Lizzy during this scene are stressed by the prominent sounds of weather in the background during their conversation. For example, a loud and noticeable thunderclap is heard just after he delivers his stinging monologue regarding the ill behaviour of Elizabeth’s other family members to her.

“I wanted a sense of the elements, of mud and rain. It occurred to me that love is an elemental force.”

This idea comes full circle during Darcy’s second, successful proposal at dawn where, echoing Lizzy’s own on-foot trek to Netherfield Hall, he is seen crossing a field on foot, having made the journey to her house not on horseback but by walking, something she told him she was fond of (Wright even ends this scene with a sunrise, just as he had started the picture). Once again the outdoors provides a haven for the two characters who both reveal that they were unable to sleep due to the events of the day before. Paquet-Deyris writes that ‘just as the line of sheets obstructs vision in the prologue, so is the heroine’s full perception hampered for the longest time in the film’ (2007: para 17). This hampered and negative initial perception that Lizzy holds for Darcy is gradually undone by Wright through his utilisation of setting and location — establishing that the two characters both have independent (and therefore similar) personalities with a love and reliance of nature’s refuge.

What sets Pride and Prejudice apart from the many adaptations is this emphasis on nature, which ‘becomes an unnamed but essential character to the audience’s understanding of the story… acting as a narrator by mirroring Elizabeth’s inner thoughts’ 

“They [Elizabeth and Darcy] both belong in a landscape teeming with life and expressive weather… a reflection, ultimately, of their personal, moral and social compatibility.” 

This second proposal scene is notable for its similarity to the film’s aforementioned opening, also set amongst the morning fog of the countryside. Use of repetition in Pride and Prejudice also extends to Dario Marianelli’s beautiful score for the film, specifically with the track entitled ‘Dawn’ which is the first song that is played, heard later on when Elizabeth visits Pemberley. In this scene, Lizzy explores the grounds of Darcy’s estate, believing him to be out of town. As she surveys the luxury of the interiors, faint music can be heard in the distance; which turns out to be Darcy’s sister, who is extremely accomplished on the piano. Having Georgiana (Tamzin Merchant) play the same track that is used in the opening when Lizzy is roaming the countryside surrounding her house was Wright’s way of indicating and foreshadowing the idea that our heroine was always “at home” in Darcy’s company. Despite the opulence of Pemberley being a different world entirely to someone of her class, it will turn out to be as much of a home to her as Longbourn, where we first heard that song being played. The conversation between the two that follows after Darcy chases Lizzy outside is also notable for the way that the personalities of the two main characters are reversed almost — with the usually confident and head-strong Elizabeth now the painfully shy one, unable to make eye contact and stumbling over her words in the presence of Darcy now that her perception of him has changed for the better.

Another form of repetition in Pride and Prejudice that Wright employed was this time visual, with his perhaps unusual emphasis on hands within the picture. There are several moments where the frame lingers here, such as when Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage when she leaves Netherfield (i.e The Hand Flex™ as the internet has coined it) or after their embarrassing aforementioned encounter at Pemberley, where the camera follows Elizabeth down a set of stairs before a rack focus shifts the attention to Darcy’s hand. As Wright explains it: “Austen’s prose gave me many visual references for the people in the story, so I used a lot of close-ups of them, too” (2011: para 18). Indeed these moments work together to act as the perfect encapsulation of the novel’s famous opening words: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife — since it’s a constant reminder that Darcy is seeking to win Elizabeth’s hand in marriage after falling in love with her.

Wright’s more modern take on the beloved story allowed him to take certain liberties that a more faithful adaptation wouldn’t have allowed (Wright actually decided to set the film at a slightly different time period to that of the book). An obvious example of this is with the film’s costumes, which in the case of Darcy are an ever-evolving and dynamic inclusion in the film that again allows for Wright’s version of the story to remain unique amongst those that came before. Landis writes that successful costumes in film must ‘evolve within the context of the story and the arc of the character within it’ (2012: 8) and in Pride and Prejudice, Darcy’s gradual warmth towards others as he falls for Elizabeth is expressed visually though such a costume transformation. His grouchy and uptight nature at the first when he is initially introduced to the Bennet family is emphasised by his attire, which in this scene is a rigid-looking, buttoned up outfit. This is in stark contrast to how he is dressed by the end of the picture:

“His costume had a series of stages. The first time we see him he’s at Meriton, where he has a very stiffly tailored jacket on, and he’s quite contained and rigid. By the time we get to the proposal that goes wrong in the rain, we move to a similar cut, but a much softer fabric. The nth degree is him walking through the mist in the morning, completely undressed by 18th-century standards.”

Mr. Darcy simultaneously undergoes a transformation in fashion at the same time that he reforms his proud ways… the costumes become a physical manifestation of the transforming relationship between the two central

Why Joe Wright’s work on Pride and Prejudice (2005) is so accomplished.

More than just a sumptuous adaptation

“I got excited about new ways to film the story which I don’t believe have been done before. I wanted to make Pride & Prejudice real and gritty — and be as honest as possible.” — Joe Wright (Quoted in Focus Features, 2011)

While it might not be able to claim to be a favourite amongst die-hard Jane Austen enthusiasts in terms of its sheer faithfulness to the source material, particularly when placed against the beloved BBC adaptation, it’s hard to ignore director Joe Wright’s mastery when it comes to the technical, narrative and symbolic choices he made when filming his feature-length version of Pride and Prejudice (2005). As Stewart-Beer has observed, the film is ‘more notable for showcasing the qualities and intensities of the cinematic experience over fresh readings of Austen’s best-loved romance’ (2007: para 28). Despite the pitfalls inevitable with shortening a novel into a two-hour film, Wright was always looking for ways to capture the ‘cinematic equivalent of prose’ (Paquet-Deyris, 2007: para 2), and his wonderful interpretation is subsequently one that is arguably the most aesthetically accomplished of the several adaptations.

The famous story follows Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), the second eldest of the Bennet family’s daughters who are also comprised of her beautiful but shy elder sister Jane (Rosamund Pike), middle child Mary (Talulah Riley) and the silly youngest sisters Lydia (Jena Malone) and Kitty (Carey Mulligan). Their mother (played by Brenda Blethyn), perpetually distressed that they are not to inherit a penny if Mr Bennet (Donald Sutherland) passes away, is overjoyed to hear that wealthy, eligible bachelors Mr Bingley (Simon Woods) and his friend Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) are in town. While Jane and Bingley are immediately taken with one another, Elizabeth takes an instant disliking to the apparent proud and rude Mr Darcy.

While not being a word-for-word adaptation, Wright was still able to maintain, and in several cases emphasise the themes and spirit of the novel when directing his debut picture. His skill at visually translating it from book to screen in a concise and condensed manner was obviously necessary considering the time limits he was working with, and in so doing Pride and Prejudice is a stunning work that stands alone as a self contained film as well as an adaptation.

“There was no point in reinventing the story, as it is such a worldwide favourite. But we wanted to present the story as it was written. Joe is a true romantic, yet he also shoots the story in a modern way.”

The most striking and complex shot of the film that encapsulates Wright’s talent occurs during the dance at Netherfield Park. Here, he weaves together several narrative threads in nearly three minutes as we follow the different members of the Bennet family interacting with one another at the ball. The seamless transitions between subjects as the camera moves around the environment demonstrates the embarrassment that Elizabeth is subject to as a result of her family’s behaviour, as well as her beloved sister’s bourgeoning relationship with Mr Bingley (in addition to her friend Charlotte’s (Claudie Blakley) concern for Jane’s reserved nature).

The take starts and ends with Elizabeth as she witnesses her father trying to hush Mary as she makes an awkward performance on the piano. As the camera tracks back we see the bumbling and comic Mr Collins (Tom Hollander) enter from the left, his inconsequential nature emphasised by the small scale he occupies within the frame. As Jane (the only one of her siblings not seen as an embarrassment) and Bingley appear from the right and walk into the next room, Wright’s camera tilts down to capture him touching her dress, which sets up Darcy overhearing Mrs Bennet’s boasts about Jane’s expected marriage. Within the sequence we also see her mother and siblings drunkenly stumbling around the venue.

Gibbs and Pye write that long takes often ‘evoke the sense of an observing presence’ (2017: 11), and similar to the long introductory shot in Robert Altman’s The Player (1992) for example, which brings audiences immediately into a wonderfully satirised world of a Hollywood film studio, this scene feels similarly immersive as it invites us to peek into the window of a different era almost voyeuristically. Class distinctions are established immediately as the Bennet family’s excited behaviour makes it clear that they’re not used to such a grand gathering, while the rich characters such as Darcy and Caroline Bingley (Kelly Reilly) who are accustomed to such a setting simply blend into their surroundings. Showing all of this in real-time serves to highlight this sense that Lizzie’s shame has been never-ending throughout the night, with no edits to offer a respite from her family’s behaviour.

The continuous take also gives a sense of immediacy to the film, in a society where women had to marry to ensure security since they were unable to inherit money, the uninterrupted shot establishes a tone that time is fleeting and it’s appropriate that such a shot is used at a ball — as Kica writes, ‘most of the girls of the eighteenth century attended balls to find husbands’ (2017: 4). While this scene was initially conceived as a montage, the dynamic, kinetic energy from the constantly mobile camera was Joe Wright’s way of converting the liveliness of Jane Austen’s prose into a visual form:

“The constant movement of the camera felt like an equivalent to the sense of energy and excitement about her [Jane Austen’s] talent that comes across to me when reading the book.”

It’s fitting that the take ends with Lizzy standing in a desolate room as a isolated, solitary figure. As a free-spirited, slightly rebellious woman characterised by her individuality, Wright often separates her from others in the story. In so doing, he utilises and contrasts the indoor and outdoor environments of the picture to establish several important characteristics of both her and Darcy. Altomari argues that in Jane Austen’s fiction, the outdoors represents ‘an escape from the claustrophobic rage and suffocation of domesticity’ (1990: 51). Indeed, it’s clear that Lizzy finds solace in nature from one of the very first shots of the film, which is that of her alone, walking in the fields and then amongst the white sheets of washing surrounding her house at dawn. These early moments not only serve to instantly mark her independent spirit by having her differentiated from the rest of the family (even when indoors, Wright parts her at Netherfield Hall by placing her on a different sofa to three of her other sisters), but to also establish her reliance on nature as a form of respite and escape from the confinement of the different situations she finds herself in (she often wears earthy colours such as greens and browns too).

‘In Jane Austen’s works, location and setting are just as critical as dialogue and character to overall plot. Pride and Prejudice demonstrates the relevance of location to the personalities, compatibility and courtships.

Similarly, Darcy is often “enclosed” within his environments whenever placed in an interior setting within the film. For instance, the way Wright cleverly blocks his actors in the below shot instantly underscores the social values and expectations of the time period, in addition to Darcy’s conflicted and repressed desires. While on the one hand Caroline Bingley on the left represents a class of woman who Darcy should be marrying, Elizabeth on the right is who Darcy has actually fallen for, despite her status and financial inferiority. Roger Ebert described the picture as one where the character’s ‘minds are at war with their hearts’ (2006: 549) and Wright’s decision to capture the three of them all in the same frame as the two women almost drift in the back of Darcy’s mind demonstrates how torn he feels with his emotions without even needing any dialogue.

‘The first section of Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice establishes Elizabeth and Darcy as Romantic figures through their individual isolation in an uncongenial social world.’ 

In addition to employing the environments to establish the confinements of the time period, Wright also uses them to indicate to us that Darcy and Elizabeth actually have more in common than they realise, certainly more than they are prepared to admit in the early stages of their relationship. Fraiman states that Lizzie’s aforementioned love of the outdoors, and the way Wright often distinguishes her from the rest of her family, marks her ‘as a kind of outsider’ (2010: para 7). Given Darcy’s lack of talent in social situations and his reluctance to participate in “normal” activities (the first dance at Meryton for example), he similarly can be classed as an outsider, particularly when considering that many people view his behaviour as proud and unpleasant.

The setting of Darcy’s first disastrous proposal is key to the idea that the two characters harbour similar personalities without realising it - occurring after Lizzy has learnt about Darcy’s sabotage of Jane and Bingley’s relationship. After hearing the distressing news she withdraws not to the sanctity of a private room but to the gardens of Rosings. It is here where she is interrupted by Darcy who has also retreated to the comfort of the outdoors, ‘suggesting that the natural world similarly provides him with escape and freedom’ (Ailwood, 2007: para 23). Despite the proposal itself being a “car crash” in Joe Wright’s words (hence the speed of the dialogue), the setting — an environment Elizabeth derives so much joy from — is a far cry from that of Mr Collins’ loveless proposal at the breakfast table… in front of a leg of ham.(Coincidently she flees to the apparent security of the pond by Longbourn after this encounter).

Changing the location of this moment to that of the book (where it occurs indoors) was one of many ways that Joe Wright sought to make his adaptation more cinematic: “Austen set her scenes in parlours and people’s front rooms. And I wanted to take it out of the parlours. It’s not interesting to set everything inside” (Wright, Quoted in Abeel, 2005: para 53). The exterior setting also heightens the emotional power of the scene as Wright is also able to employ the added effect of the stormy weather. As McKim argues, rain in films serve to ‘manifest otherwise latent desire, accelerate the pacing and intensify the sensation of a scene’ (2013: 92). The significance of Darcy’s hurtful words to Lizzy during this scene are stressed by the prominent sounds of weather in the background during their conversation. For example, a loud and noticeable thunderclap is heard just after he delivers his stinging monologue regarding the ill behaviour of Elizabeth’s other family members to her.

“I wanted a sense of the elements, of mud and rain. It occurred to me that love is an elemental force.”

This idea comes full circle during Darcy’s second, successful proposal at dawn where, echoing Lizzy’s own on-foot trek to Netherfield Hall, he is seen crossing a field on foot, having made the journey to her house not on horseback but by walking, something she told him she was fond of (Wright even ends this scene with a sunrise, just as he had started the picture). Once again the outdoors provides a haven for the two characters who both reveal that they were unable to sleep due to the events of the day before. Paquet-Deyris writes that ‘just as the line of sheets obstructs vision in the prologue, so is the heroine’s full perception hampered for the longest time in the film’ (2007: para 17). This hampered and negative initial perception that Lizzy holds for Darcy is gradually undone by Wright through his utilisation of setting and location — establishing that the two characters both have independent (and therefore similar) personalities with a love and reliance of nature’s refuge.

What sets Pride and Prejudice apart from the many adaptations is this emphasis on nature, which ‘becomes an unnamed but essential character to the audience’s understanding of the story… acting as a narrator by mirroring Elizabeth’s inner thoughts’ 

“They [Elizabeth and Darcy] both belong in a landscape teeming with life and expressive weather… a reflection, ultimately, of their personal, moral and social compatibility.” 

This second proposal scene is notable for its similarity to the film’s aforementioned opening, also set amongst the morning fog of the countryside. Use of repetition in Pride and Prejudice also extends to Dario Marianelli’s beautiful score for the film, specifically with the track entitled ‘Dawn’ which is the first song that is played, heard later on when Elizabeth visits Pemberley. In this scene, Lizzy explores the grounds of Darcy’s estate, believing him to be out of town. As she surveys the luxury of the interiors, faint music can be heard in the distance; which turns out to be Darcy’s sister, who is extremely accomplished on the piano. Having Georgiana (Tamzin Merchant) play the same track that is used in the opening when Lizzy is roaming the countryside surrounding her house was Wright’s way of indicating and foreshadowing the idea that our heroine was always “at home” in Darcy’s company. Despite the opulence of Pemberley being a different world entirely to someone of her class, it will turn out to be as much of a home to her as Longbourn, where we first heard that song being played. The conversation between the two that follows after Darcy chases Lizzy outside is also notable for the way that the personalities of the two main characters are reversed almost — with the usually confident and head-strong Elizabeth now the painfully shy one, unable to make eye contact and stumbling over her words in the presence of Darcy now that her perception of him has changed for the better.

Another form of repetition in Pride and Prejudice that Wright employed was this time visual, with his perhaps unusual emphasis on hands within the picture. There are several moments where the frame lingers here, such as when Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage when she leaves Netherfield (i.e The Hand Flex™ as the internet has coined it) or after their embarrassing aforementioned encounter at Pemberley, where the camera follows Elizabeth down a set of stairs before a rack focus shifts the attention to Darcy’s hand. As Wright explains it: “Austen’s prose gave me many visual references for the people in the story, so I used a lot of close-ups of them, too” (2011: para 18). Indeed these moments work together to act as the perfect encapsulation of the novel’s famous opening words: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife — since it’s a constant reminder that Darcy is seeking to win Elizabeth’s hand in marriage after falling in love with her.

Wright’s more modern take on the beloved story allowed him to take certain liberties that a more faithful adaptation wouldn’t have allowed (Wright actually decided to set the film at a slightly different time period to that of the book). An obvious example of this is with the film’s costumes, which in the case of Darcy are an ever-evolving and dynamic inclusion in the film that again allows for Wright’s version of the story to remain unique amongst those that came before. Landis writes that successful costumes in film must ‘evolve within the context of the story and the arc of the character within it’ (2012: 8) and in Pride and Prejudice, Darcy’s gradual warmth towards others as he falls for Elizabeth is expressed visually though such a costume transformation. His grouchy and uptight nature at the first when he is initially introduced to the Bennet family is emphasised by his attire, which in this scene is a rigid-looking, buttoned up outfit. This is in stark contrast to how he is dressed by the end of the picture:

“His costume had a series of stages. The first time we see him he’s at Meriton, where he has a very stiffly tailored jacket on, and he’s quite contained and rigid. By the time we get to the proposal that goes wrong in the rain, we move to a similar cut, but a much softer fabric. The nth degree is him walking through the mist in the morning, completely undressed by 18th-century standards.” 

‘Mr. Darcy simultaneously undergoes a transformation in fashion at the same time that he reforms his proud ways… the costumes become a physical manifestation of the transforming relationship between the two central characters’ 

Ragus writes that many commentators feel that Joe Wright’s adaptation, while ‘beautiful, is not Austen’ (2007: 350), which unfairly undermines his work by suggesting that it offers style rather than substance. On the contrary, Pride and Prejudice is a deeply rewarding watch that more than justifies its own existence as a shorter version of the story despite the “definitive” BBC series already existing 10 years earlier. His skill as a visual storyteller results in a picture that makes more use of the benefits and language of film than perhaps any other version. It’s a heart-warming adaptation teeming with love and life that absolutely stands on its own right — and all of this with his feature film debut!.