Discussing the finer points of the Netherfield Ball with a couple of friends . . .
In those idle moments when I rank my favourite scenes in Andrew Davies' Pride & Prejudice, I have come to the realisation that the Netherfield ball scene, though not the one I would have expected to pick first, is the scene I am most drawn to - I have watched it many times, in fascination. Why do I find it so interesting?
To begin at the beginning:
When Lizzy Bennet (Jennifer Ehle) arrives with her family at Netherfield, she is pleasantly anticipating an evening of dancing and flirting with George Wickham (Adrian Lukis), for whom she has dressed with particular care. Andrew Davies' screenplay stresses this point - note how many people tell Lizzy how pretty she looks, from her mother (Alison Steadman) through to Denny (David Bark-Jones). Were they worried we wouldn't notice? It's a lovely moment that the first person she sees is Darcy (Colin Firth), looking from a window. And why is he there? He's been watching out for her, of course! The man is a mess in this scene - it's a turning point in his feelings for Lizzy. He's been haunting the window, wondering when she will arrive, and as soon as she does, and catches his eye, he stalks away. The pattern is set for the evening. He can't stand to be near her, and he can't keep away from her.
Jane Austen (and screenwriter Andrew Davies) plant all sorts of loaded clues about Wickham in this scene, which Lizzy is in no mood to pick up. For example, Denny tells her that Wickham stayed away "because he wished to avoid a certain gentleman here". In other words, even though Wickham expressly told Lizzy he would keep silent about Darcy ("Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."), he has already told at least his fellow officers (and gradually, everybody else in Meryton, until the scene where we learn from Mr Bennet (Benjamin Whitrow) that Wickham has told his tale of woe to the entire Bennet family over afternoon tea! - "It was very good of him to entertain us so eloquently with stories about his misfortunes."). After Lizzy's dance with Darcy, she is told the truth about Wickham by the one person she (and the viewer/reader with her) is least likely to believe - Miss Bingley (Anna Chancellor). Another cunning ruse of Jane Austen's! And of course, Lizzy's sister Jane (Susannah Harker) always preaches caution and moderation, and Lizzy, like the rest of us, writes off her sister's comments as stemming from her own ultra-goodness and naive view of the world.Andrew Davies has taken everything Jane Austen offers, and adds elements of his own which make the whole scene even more delicious and tortured. The entire prelude to Lizzy & Darcy dancing is designed to put her in the worst possible frame of mind, from her mistaken conviction that Darcy has somehow been responsible for Wickham's absence (and her consequent disappointment) to the anguish of having to dance with Mr Collins (David Bamber) - a fate she has brought entirely on herself, by being far too smart for her own good. The image of Mr Collins' black clad legs, flailing like a randy grasshopper as he dances, will long stay with me. Her mood is capped when Darcy approaches her just as she is venting her feelings about him to Charlotte Lucas (Lucy Scott, and she is embarassed in case he has overheard her. No wonder she is lost for words, and accepts his dancing offer. Jane Austen simply tells us she was engaged in conversation with Charlotte when Darcy came up, so this is Davies' clever idea for stacking the cards against the poor man. Darcy walking away immediately is straight out of Austen, but Colin shows us clearly why he does it. (He talks about Darcy's terribly mixed and confused feelings in this scene very articulately in the The Making of Pride & Prejudice book.) The poor man just can't help himself, and hates himself for giving in . . . He is also laying his pride on the line, since Lizzy has already rejected him once as a dancing partner (at Lucas Lodge). (And a second time in the novel, during an evening at Netherfield.)
Then there is "Darcycam", as our hero walks about observing the ballroom, trying not to stare at Lizzy all the time, but inevitably drawn back to her. Great sequence! It's also fun to spot the other characters in the background, all acting their little socks off - watch Mary (Lucy Briers), for example, while her sister is dancing. Or Jane and Bingley ( Crispin Bonham-Carter) dancing together. I loved the uncharacteristic smirk on Darcy's face as he takes a moment of malicious pleasure in Mr Collins' dancing mistake. Of course, Lizzy notices him immediately, and is furious and embarassed that he has been watching her agony. She is completely aware of Darcy's presence at all times, showing that, subconsciously at least, she is very attracted to him. And when he's not around, she still seems to be talking about him all the time.
What fascinates me the most is the central dance, in the way it is scripted, directed, edited and performed. The words, of course, are Jane Austen's, though not for the first time, Davies has to supply dialogue you could have sworn Jane wrote - her prose is so vivid you think she has written dialogue when she often hasn't. In fact, many of Jane Austen's lines are cut, and significantly, Davies chooses to particularly edit Darcy's contribution to the conversation. Jane Austen almost allows him to be charming - in the book, he is extremely gallant to Lizzy, given the smart arse comments she makes - but Lizzy doesn't want to acknowledge this side of him. In the film, of course, he is tongue tied and lets Lizzy run rings around him, writhing inwardly, but not as quick with repartee as she is, and prohibited by the movements of the dance from replying immediately in any case.
The choice of dance is perfect, as many have noted. Wonderful music ("Mr Beveridge's Maggot"), with charm and dignity, and simple but beautiful patterns of movement. I agree entirely with Andrew Davies' comment that the steps of the dance echo a combat, a fencing match, the steps of a matador (eg, that wonderful arm posture as they make their turns - very pasa doble!). All that touching and turning and hand holding and weaving around one another is almost erotic, as well as combative, and is as significant as the dialogue in developing this stage of their relationship. I love the fact that director (Simon Langton)and choreographer (Jane Gibson) gave the dance such "space" - nearly six minutes of it! I was in awe as it went on and on when I first saw it. And beautifully edited, so that every turn and step matches in every shot. (However, you will easily spot a couple of shots of Jennifer that feature the infamous hair-trapped-in-the-camera as described in The Making of Pride & Prejudice book.) Of course, editing a dance should be relatively easy, as the actors are forced to repeat the same patterns at the same pace each time. Still, look at the number of angles they filmed it from - imagine how many times they must have had to repeat the dance! (And that doesn't include the number of repeats for errors of one kind or another.) The steadicam shots are great, travelling fluidly with them through the movements of the dance, adding to the sinuous effect of the dance and the debate.
Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle are very graceful dancers. Logically, of course, the dance should not have ended when it did. They may stop and bow with confidence because the choreographer told them to, but they should have continued until they were at the head of the line again. I love the expression on Darcy's face while he waits gravely to bow at the beginning - one of those editing choices I marvel at. An oddity - when the camera focuses on the women's faces before the opening bow, Jane's head nods in slow motion - why did they need to slow this shot down? Well, I guess for editing reasons - they were cutting to the music at that point, and the shot clearly wasn't long enough. It seems to me that, as the dance progresses, Darcy's moves become more perfunctory - he rises on his toes and is very graceful at the start, and once he gets more and more entangled in Lizzy's snappy remarks, he starts to walk through the thing, only recollecting himself in the final measures.
I love the expression on Darcy's face when he finally introduces a topic of conversation - "Do you often walk into Meryton?". It's a mixture of smugness ("there! I'm playing the game, now, try and make fun of *that* innocuous comment"), tolerance and conviction that he is holding up his end of things. Poor boy, little does he know what an opening he has just given Lizzy. . . (On the other hand, since he cannot have forgotten seeing Wickham in Meryton, perhaps he is offering her a chance to raise the subject . . . ?) Also loved his long, searching look at Bingley and Jane once Sir William Lucas (Christopher Benjamin) has alerted him to the danger of their pairing, and the way that preoccupation with this new thought intervenes between him and Lizzy. The choreography is perfect at this point - the logic of the dance separates them as they walk forward as the outside couple of a foursome, whereas earlier in the dance they are the inside couple. A physical manifestation of the barrier that is growing between them.
If I was to nitpick, I would have to ask, why make every other male in the dance (except Bingley) short and ugly? Darcy towers over them all. And no one else wearing black was allowed in the frame with him. Darcy's final line in this sequence allows him to exit with some dignity: "I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours." By this stage, he is angry with Lizzy, and this line is icily polite, with veiled sarcasm. In other words, "if you want to pursue this pointless probing and needling, feel free (but don't expect me to hang around and participate.") As Jane Austen tells us, however, "in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another."
A beautifully handled, complex scene.
Click here for a discussion of two screen versions of "Pride and Prejudice"
© 1997 lisaw@deepsouth.co.nz
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