Pride and Prejudice

While the BBC will insist on adapting Jane Austen’s masterpiece every fortnight for television, Joe Wright’s splendidly dirty (as in ancient hygiene standards, not Darcy porn) rendition of Pride And Prejudice is actually the first film version in 60 years.
But can it put a new spin on such cosily familiar material? Well, yes actually. The chocolate box romance and empire line dresses are ditched in favour of a grittier approach. The immortal Elizabeth Bennett (a fabulously spiky Keira Knightley) and her bustling family are, true to source, depicted as a bunch of provincial rednecks. Geese and pigs with giant testicles wander freely into their less than entirely genteel abode. No wonder the dashing Mr. Darcy (MacFayden) would think twice about marrying into this lot.
And forget prettified Austen. Wright’s film opts for faintly trippy shots recalling the neo-hippie 1967 adaptation of Far From The Madding Crowd. Indeed, one moment when an extreme close-up of Ms. Knightley’s big brown eyes cuts suddenly to a panoramic cliff scene had me wondering if I’d wandered into a screening of El Topo by mistake.
It’s not perfect as these things go. For one thing, Darcy melts a little too soon for my liking. But any film with Judi Dench declaring dismissively in her roundest vowels “Had I ever learned the pianoforte, I should have been a great proficient” has got to be worthwhile.