Pride, prejudice and disaster

Express Tribune

12-04-2025

My fellow Jane Austen fans, you are going to need strength. This July, we will be coming up to the three-year anniversary of the carnage that Netflix deemed fit to tell us was Persuasion. If you have only just recovered from their rage-inducing character assassination of lovely shy Anne Elliot, you will be appalled to learn that the streaming platform has even more sinister plans in motion, with Pride and Prejudice next in line.
We are obliged to warn you that if you have lukewarm feelings for the BBC Pride and Prejudice, nurse a flaming passion for the 2005 adaptation, and entertain an inexplicable fondness for whatever Netflix thinks passes for Austen, you should probably stop reading right now. As for the rest of the tribe - this is for you. Your outrage has been noted, and your feelings are valid. These are dark times.
Brace yourselves
Over the past few days, Variety has been giving us little nuggets about the latest cast list, making it a very tough few days for those of us who long ago pledged allegiance to BBC's 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries starring Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle. It transpires that The Crown star Olivia Colman is slated to play Mrs Bennet, with her Crown daughter-in-law Emma Corrin taking on the role of Mrs Bennet's obstinate, headstrong daughter and Austen's most beloved heroine of all, Elizabeth. As for Austen's most swoon-worthy tortured hero, the onerous task of bringing Mr Darcy to life (yet again) has been handed over to Jack Lowden, whom you spy drama fans will know better as River Cartwright from Slow Horses.
During the past week, then, we '95 fans have been haunted by memories of 2005, when Kiera Knightley, that year's Elizabeth Bennet from Joe Wright's attempt at this sacred classic, told anyone who would listen in an interview, "Only snobby fans of the '95 version will not like this one."
Knightley was absolutely correct. Even now, twenty years later, snobby fans of the '95 version make no effort to conceal their dismay. Ergo, we can compile an encyclopaedia on everything Knightley and her cohorts got wrong in their film, critically acclaimed though it may have been, and we are prepared to rise to the challenge again with whatever monstrosity Netflix delivers when the time comes.
Let us note up front that there is very little that is objectively wrong with Colman or Corrin or Lowden. Colman could play stodgy middle-aged royalty in The Crown and equally adeptly depict an optimistic homicide detective in Broadchurch. There is no reason she will be unable to convincingly take on the bag of nerves that is Mrs Bennet.
In the same vein, Lowden may not quite be an oil painting (sorry, Lowden), but as anyone who has pored over Firth's old photos has been forced to conclude, neither was our OG Mr Darcy when he was given the role back in 1995. As the IMDb trivia section for the BBC miniseries notes, when Firth's astounded brother found out who he would be playing, he asked (like any brother would), "But isn't Darcy supposed to be sexy?" Bearing all this in mind, it would be unfair to write off Lowden for his looks. Despite his straight blond hair (the direct opposite of Firth's dark curls), Lowden may well give us a man who convincingly tells his crush (the unfortunate Elizabeth) how ardently he admires and loves her before proceeding to insult the rest of her family in regimental detail.
Therefore, we are not writing off Lowden for his genetics. Instead, we are writing off the whole thing - Colman, Corrin, and every director, producer, screenwriter and the whole caboodle - before it takes off. Because as history has taught us by way of Persuasion and Emma (2020), when it comes to butchering Austen adaptations, the limit does not exist for the depths of savagery Netflix can sink to.
Why, Netflix?
Consider the case of the anachronistic Persuasion with Dakota Johnson's Anne. Musing over her estrangement from Captain Wentworth after eight years of separation, the book Anne thinks, "Now they were strangers. Nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted."
Sanctioned by Netflix, screenwriters Ron Bass and Alice Victoria Winslow, under the directorship of Carrie Cracknell (we must apportion blame where it is due since it would be unfair to want to slap Johnson alone for this), film Anne says, "Now we're worse than exes. We're friends."
Quite why nobody was sentenced to walking across a field of Lego for this needless slaying of Austen's classic line is unclear. As one reviewer on Reddit put it back when the film was released, "I watched this movie last night for the first time and I'm filled with rage and anger right now."
In the rest of us, that rage and anger was also harnessed onto Netflix's attempts with Emma, Austen's final novel. There are people who heap love and praise on this 'humorous' take on Emma; you hardcore Austenites need not associate with any of these individuals lest you begin entertaining thoughts of socially unacceptable violence.
Having said that, those who rubberneck at car crashes on the side of the road will have been unable to look away from the catastrophe that was Anya Taylor-Joy's Emma in Emma, where our Regency heroine not only dances with a man she has never met in the middle of town out in the open (as scandalous as a Pakistani bride wearing jeans to her own wedding, not that anyone in the film batted an eye), she also bursts into a random nosebleed in the middle of being proposed to.
Why a nosebleed? No one has offered up a reasonable explanation, but what we do know is that, like the monstrous exes line in Persuasion, this bodily function was a deliberate choice. In fact, during an interview with Entertainment Weekly in 2021, Taylor-Joy explained that the collective decision had been to eschew "sweeping violins" in favour of "blood and screaming". Apparently, Taylor-Joy can produce a nosebleed on cue, meaning there was less work for the makeup department.
"Yeah, the plan was to pause filming and add the blood and then continue. I provided the blood, so there was no need," boasted the actor.
You see what we are dealing with here? On behalf of all Austenites, we beseech all studios to stop polluting fresh young minds with whatever this Bizarro version of Regency romance is. The only acceptable straying from source material is Firth diving into a lake at Pemberley. Beyond that, we cannot let any more screaming, fake blood, and talk of exes infect our screens. Filmmakers, please leave Austen alone. Thank you.