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USA/UK 1999
Reviewed by Andy Richards
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
England, the early 19th century. Fanny Price leaves her home in Portsmouth to live with wealthy relatives on their vast country estate Mansfield Park. There, she is treated as a social inferior by her aunt and uncle, Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, and her cousins Tom, Maria and Julia. Only Edmund, the Bertram's second son, treats her kindly.
Fanny grows into a spirited young woman. Sir Thomas departs on a business trip to his plantations in Antigua, accompanied by Tom. The Mansfield routine is disrupted by the arrival of charismatic siblings Henry and Mary Crawford. Henry flirts with Maria, despite her engagement to Mr Rushworth; Mary has designs on Edmund. Tom returns from Antigua, and proposes putting on a play. The rehearsals are a pretext for much unseemly flirtation by the Crawfords, but the performance is prevented by the return of Sir Thomas.
Maria marries Mr Rushmore. A debut ball is held in honour of Fanny, where Henry declares his love for her. Secretly in love with Edmund, she spurns him, enraging Sir Thomas who sends her back to Portsmouth. She is abruptly recalled to Mansfield Park when Tom falls ill. While nursing Tom, Fanny discovers some of his sketches of abuses against the Antiguan slaves. She also finds Henry in bed with Maria, who then runs off with him. Mary's callous behaviour repels Edmund. Soon after Tom recovers, Edmund confesses his love for Fanny which she reciprocates.
Given the recent spate of Jane Austen adaptations (notably, Ang Lee's Sense and Sensibility, Douglas McGrath's Emma and the BBC productions of Persuasion and Pride and Prejudice), one could be forgiven for anticipating diminishing returns from what is widely viewed as the author's least satisfying and most intractably moralistic work. But that would be to reckon without the contribution of Canadian director Patricia Rozema who, disdaining a purist approach, offers some smart and suggestive variations on the usual Regency rituals.
Rozema's previous features (I've Heard the Mermaids Singing and When Night Is Falling) have all dealt with meek, repressed female protagonists who are initiated into new social and cultural worlds, before attaining self-sufficiency. In this respect, Austen's Fanny, who arrives at Mansfield Park a timid and socially unsure young woman only to become an indispensable member of the household, would seem to be another variant on Rozema's heroines.
Yet the Fanny of Rozema's film, as incarnated by a radiant Frances O'Connor, is resolutely all the things the Fanny of the novel is not: vivacious, artistic, even sexy - a self-confessed "wild beast". This Fanny is, in fact, something of a hybrid of Austen's heroine and the novelist herself (Fanny's stories and her updates to her sister Susan are based on Austen's own early writings and letters). In Fanny, Rozema creates a screen heroine we can root for (more in the mould of Pride and Prejudice's Elizabeth Bennet), and a film that stands alongside the rest of her oeuvre as a paean to female artistic and romantic independence.
Rozema's emancipatory agenda is significantly different from the novel's more sober, stoic preoccupation with the upholding of true moral consciousness through abstinence and self-denial. Austen's Fanny, as the unimpeachable repository of older, High Tory values, must strike modern sensibilities as something of a prig. Rozema's heroine, on the other hand, is a modern woman oppressed by an antiquated patriarchal society. To throw this theme into sharper relief, Rozema has chosen to make the slavery issue (fleetingly alluded to in the novel) explicit. At one point, Fanny mortifies her family by raising the subject of abolition. The scene in which she discovers Tom's sketches of atrocities (gang rape included) committed against the slaves on his father's Antiguan plantations is shocking in its deliberate rupturing of the film's predominantly genteel mise en scène.
Rozema's point is that Mansfield Park, and the amorous escapades of its wealthy inhabitants, are founded on and sustained by this debased form of exploitation. This is certainly an intriguing opening-out of the novel, but in doing so the film appropriates the moral high ground in a way that further distances it from the delicacy and ambiguity of Austen's insights.
Rozema might shift the moral dynamics of the tale to suit our modern broad-stroke sensibilities, but she also has fun with the novel's romantic conventions. The initial entrance of the glamorous, seductive Crawfords is played as a comic cliché, a languorous camera tilt up their bodies intercut with hot flushes from the assembled onlookers. The central ball scene - filmed with candle-lit intimacy and rhapsodic camera swirls - and a couple of fanciful sapphic interludes between Fanny and Embeth Davidtz's serpentine, cigar-smoking Mary Crawford also confirm this as the most overtly erotic of Austen adaptations to date.