Click here to read comments on the Netherfield Ball sequence in the 1995 production of Pride and Prejudice
I recently rented a video of the Fay Weldon version of Pride and Prejudice, not having seen it since it was first broadcast in 1980 (or therabouts), and it was quite a shock coming back to it. Obviously, it had a much smaller budget than the 1995 version, so it seems very pale - almost anaemic - by comparison with (say) the sumptuous parties and balls of the new version. Weldon's version was made on video, using "TV techniques" - ie, long, slow takes, which lead to stillness and a certain lack of energy, as opposed to the Davies' version, made on film with film techniques, and very clever editing. The only filmed parts of the older version are outdoors walking shots & a few scenes with people driving about in carriages -- all very sedate.
It is fascinating to see how two screenwriters can do such different things with the same material. Weldon approaches the task from the woman's viewpoint (hardly surprising!), which could be argued to be closer to Jane Austen's view. Weldon's Mrs Bennet is treated with a little more sympathy - it is suggested that what is wrong in her marriage is as much her husband's fault as hers, and she is much less strident than the newer Mrs Bennet (Alison Steadman), who sometimes teeters on the edge of caricature. Charlotte Lucas is given greater prominence, (and Jane Bennet less prominence, oddly enough) and as in the novel, we see things largely from Elizabeth's point of view. For example, when she bumps into Darcy at Pemberley, it is a surprise to us as well as to her, as is her later discovery that he has engineered Lydia & Wickham's marriage - and this is how it happens in the book, where we are kept in a delicious state of suspense. A lot of the narrative of the book appears as voice over thoughts for Elizabeth, particularly when she is thinking about Darcy at various stages. This can get very pedantic and dull, and seems quite unnecessary - Jennifer Ehle & Colin Firth can convey all the same feelings just by their facial expressions and silences.
Weldon and Davies pick and choose from the dialogue in the book, and both
are forced to make up a fair bit, since Jane Austen often only reports the
gist of a conversation. (It always surprises me when I go back to the book
and re-discover this -- the way she writes, you feel as though you know
exactly what was in those conversations.) 
For example, describing Darcy
during that surprise meeting at Pemberley, Austen only says: "Nor did he
seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual
sedateness; and he repeated his enquiries as to the time of her having left
Longbourn, and of her staying in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a
way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts. At length, every
idea seemed to fail him . . ." Colin Firth, of course, played this scene quite
beautifully.
Still, there are at least two bits that Weldon included which Davies omitted that I think were worth keeping. One is a telling little phrase in Darcy's letter to Lizzie, in which he says of Bingley "I had often seen him in love before." This gives him maybe a little more justification for deciding that he could separate Bingley & Jane. The other occurs when Lizzie is at Netherfield to look after Jane, and Bingley says to Elizabeth "I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more aweful (sic) object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do." This is a lovely moment that helps to make real the friendship between Darcy and Bingley, and humanises Darcy.
Weldon's version spins out the final courting scenes of Lizzie & Darcy, using more scenes from the book than Davies does -- he just wanted to cut straight to the chase and marry them off. Mind you, the Weldon scenes are played with so little love and passion, so much polite restraint, that they don't add a great deal. The last image we have of Darcy & Lizzie is a tasteful long shot of them standing under the branches of a big tree, like some Regency chocolate box cover. My only regret is that the Davies version couldn't squeeze in some of my favourite moments from the end of the novel -- Lizzie teasing Darcy on why he was so quiet when he came back to see her at Longbourn, for example. Davies' wedding scene is masterful -- all those shots of the various couples, expressing different views of marriage -- for instance, the vicar talks about man's carnal lusts and appetites over a shot of Mr and Mrs Bennet, which perfectly sums up their marriage, and later he speaks of mutual society, help and comfort over a shot of Darcy & Lizzie -- the perfect couple. I love Darcy's huge grin of happiness when he comes out of church -- at last, he has learned not to hide all his feelings from the world, and he can just be happy.
Fay Weldon goes for more comedy than Andrew Davies does in the Mr Collins/Rosings scenes. I actually like both versions of Mr Collins -- the earlier one is very tall and gangling, with a great comic walk. The recent one (David Bamber) hits the exact right note of Collins' pompous self-importance and obsequiousness, and does a nice line in subtext. It is clear at Hunsford that he is sending Lizzie messages about what she has missed out on by not marrying him. Taking her cue from the novel, where Jane writes that Lady Catherine "enquired into Charlotte's domestic concerns familiarly and minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice, as to the management of them all", Weldon writes long speeches for Lady Catherine that flesh this out, and later shows us Charlotte carrying out some of these instructions at home. Davies' version simply has Maria anxiously repacking to Lady Cath's specifications. Lady Catherine is much younger and more glamorous in the Weldon version - more confident, less bitter and twisted -- less like Lady Bracknell. Weldon writes in scenes for the Collins's that aren't in the book - a wooing scene between Collins and Charlotte, and a silly scene where they are planting bullrushes, and he is wearing a 'life preserver' hat, recommended by Lady Catherine. These scenes are quite lively and fun (interesting that they are new inventions), but in general, there is an air of polite restraint over the whole series.
The two Darcys are very different. Let me start by saying (no surprise here!) that Colin Firth is to me the definitive Darcy - impossible to imagine a better one. He brings passion, intelligence and a strong physicality to the role, as well as romance, complexity, delicacy and wonderfully observed subtext. And it doesn't hurt that he looks gorgeous and reeks with sex appeal. And of course he is helped by the Davies screenplay, which gives Darcy more screen presence than either Weldon's version or the novel. We lose that sense of surprise in Darcy's actions, because Davies shows them to us - we know Lizzie & Darcy will meet at Pemberley, because we see him arrive and take his now-famous swim in the lake; we see him hunting down Wickham in London. In fact, I have no problem with this, because there isn't a scene that Davies writes in for Darcy that does not make complete sense in the context of the story. When Darcy hands Elizabeth the letter he has written, in the novel and in Weldon's version, that's all that happens - he appears, hands it over, and goes, and in the Weldon version, we see him walking away in a very stately fashion while Lizzie sits down on a convenient tree trunk and calmly reads the whole letter, done as a voice over by Darcy. Actually, the novel tells us he wrote the letter at 8 o'clock in the morning, but despite this, the Davies version seems so right -- of course a man so caught up by passion, disappointment and injustice as Darcy should stay up all night, writing his little heart out! (And I prefer to close my eyes to the fact that it shouldn't really have taken him a whole night to write the letter.) The scene where Darcy chooses his clothes before riding over to see Lizzie at Lambton makes perfect sense (and makes me wonder even more -- exactly what was it he came by to ask her, since evidently she was scheduled to come over for dinner later that day?). Even the fencing scene seems quite justifiable, reminding us that Darcy has had problems of his own to deal with while Lizzie has been languishing back home at Longbourn. And of course, watching Colin Firth being manly and dashing and ravaged by love doesn't hurt, either.
So what about the other Darcy, David Rintoul? He has a pleasant, soothing, gentlemanly voice, he is tall and dark and could be called handsome, in a rigid, plastic sort of way. Odd head shape, I thought. He is also remote, passionless, virtually expressionless, and walks about as though someone has inserted a very stiff poker up his bottom. He has no life force, and no existence beyond the need for him to pop up in Lizzie's life on demand as the story dictates. There seems little excuse for this. I looked back at the novel to see how Darcy behaves, and he is actually a living, breathing, human being, with real emotions. Colin Firth carries out some of Austen's "stage directions" to the letter - I wonder, did Davies write them into the screenplay, or did Colin refer to the novel? For example, when Darcy encounters Lizzie at Pemberley, the book says:
"Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise."
Or how about Darcy's first proposal at Hunsford?
"In a hurried manner, he immediately began an enquiry after her health. . . He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up walked about the room . . After a silence of several minutes he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began, 'In vain have I struggled . . .' " etc.
As for the dip in the lake -- well, there was clearly a lust factor built
in here -- I admit to being rather thrilled by the scene, and by the sight of our
hunky hero striding along dripping wet, shirt clinging to his chest.
It works on all sorts of levels. First, it expresses Darcy's
physicality, which the new version emphasises -- he is shown fencing,
riding, shooting, swimming, bathing, walking -- in other words, he is a
flesh and blood man full of energy and life, and not just some effete,
genteel, posturing Regency hero (which is how I see Rintoul's Darcy). This
alone would make him a worthy partner of Jennifer Ehle's feisty Elizabeth.
I remember being utterly charmed by her from the very beginning, when we
are introduced to her out walking, and she starts to run, revelling in the
freedom and the exercise. I knew I was going to like this Lizzie straight
away. Second, it makes absolute sense of the meeting between Darcy and
Lizzie. It puts Darcy at a disadvantage, helps to increase embarrassment
for both of them (and don't tell me Lizzie doesn't notice the way he looks
. . .), and gives him a strong reason for excusing himself and disappearing
up to the house.
Jennifer Ehle is superb (she deservedly won a Best Actress BAFTA) - she carries off a great responsibility. There is scarcely a scene in the series, from memory, that doesn't feature her or Darcy. I couldn't imagine a better Elizabeth, and I feel quite 'precious' about the character, since she's the heroine of my all time favourite novel. She is charming, funny, intelligent, pig headed, obstinate, very pretty without being a plastic beauty, she makes mistakes and gets angry and bored and frustrated and embarrassed -- she's a flesh and blood woman. Her solitary walks, which certainly exist in the novel, express her physical side well, and Davies caught her perfectly in the (invented) scene where she plays with the dog at Netherfield and Darcy spies on her from his bathroom. You can easily see why Darcy falls for her, and why she attracts Wickham, Col. Fitzwilliam, maybe even Mr Collins. Jane Austen describes the mixture of 'sweetness and archness in her manner' that 'bewitched' Darcy, and Jennifer Ehle has it in spades!
By contrast, Elizabeth Garvie, who played the earlier Lizzie, is quite pretty and intelligent (though she wears some very unflattering clothes) but she can also be insipid, simpering, coy and far too mild mannered. She walks about very sedately, and never shows any passion. The only time she actually runs is in a dubious inversion from the book. When she gets the bad news about Lydia, instead of Darcy walking in on her at the Inn, she runs all the way to Pemberley(!) and bursts in on him in his drawing room on the pretext of looking for her uncle. What can Fay Weldon have been thinking? What does it say about Elizabeth? Rintoul's Darcy, in this scene, is his usual polite, remote self, more like a distant relation than a lover. Colin Firth plays it to perfection -- watch the suppressed passion and deep concern he shows for Lizzie -- as in the wonderful moment when he impulsively takes her hand in both of his, and then delicately releases her, first one hand, then the other, for propriety's sake. I also like the little added scene of him moping about at Pemberley that night, and snapping at poor Miss Bingley, before deciding to put himself and his pride on the line for Lizzie.
On the subject of all those long, lingering looks - Jane Austen certainly refers to them, repeatedly. Eg, when Darcy leaves Lizzie at the inn, he goes "with one serious, parting look". Comments about Lizzie's fine eyes are rife in the novel. In Weldon's version, Lizzie talks about Darcy looking at her a lot, but they never show this in a single close up. Astonishing! Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed all the great, sexy looks between Darcy and Lizzie in the Davies version -- and like everyone else, I was blown away by the incredibly erotic Pemberley piano scene. Some great, seductive looks, too, when Darcy comes back to Longbourn with Bingley.
Colin & Jennifer conveyed so much attraction in so subtle a fashion. The kiss at the end, tame as it was, almost seemed unnecessary -- you just know that this is the perfect couple. They did great stuff with body language -- I loved the fact that, when they are walking together at Pemberley, they unconsciously mirror each other, walking along with their arms behind their backs. And when they finally get together, they keep gently bumping against each other as they walk along.
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