EMMA
Emma (1995) has received almost unanimous praise for its adaptation of Jane Austen's novel. Yet it seems to me flawed on several levels.In terms of cinematography, I've never seen worse garish lighting in a film. Most sequences are filmed in direct lighting, with little modeling or dramatic point.
The set design seems equally pointless. Few sets in the film are repeated for dramatic effect or purpose. In the best-made films, sets are characters, as they reflect characters. King Lear's heath is not only a heath but a place of raw nature, which the old enraged king himself feels within as well as without. The rampart at the beginning of Hamlet is not merely a rampart but a place of threshold experience, where the dead confront the living, where a confused son (Hamlet) is given a revelation that changes his life and leads ultimately to his death. Mr. Brownlow's residence in Oliver Twist is not merely a house but a home, contrasting against the institutional house Oliver lived in, or Fagin's quarters. The picnic grounds in Picnic, the reservoir, the Owens' home, etc. all have symbolic functions besides plot.
One doesn't feel any place in Emma is used in a creative sense, revealing character, or as part of a threshold (change of life) experience, as in Picnic, King Lear, or even the many levels of the ship, Titanic in that movie, where the engine room suggests a descent into a world of liberation (the dances, etc.).
On the contrary, one feels throughout a vague sense of place, of constant greenery, lawns, and nondescript interiors of homes, but with little sense of these places having a character or destiny in themselves. Combined with the constant garishly direct lighting, the film looks as if it lacks visual design at all.
The camera movement, however, is inventive. Most setups begin in long shot as the camera slowly dollies in, taking the viewer close to the characters as they become closer in intimacy to each other. The opening motif of the globe is repeated, not only in the swish pan that immediately follows, or in the globe that Emma holds in her hand, but in camera movements that circle around characters as they discuss the domestic fate of other characters, which is the world as these people know it.
Often reframings, as the characters spar with one another about various romantic couplings, express the ping-pong effect of their differences of opinion. The busy camera (as does Rachel Portman's busy underscore cues) reflects the busy lives of these gossips, especially, of course, Emma herself.
One especially effective dolly-in is seen in the sequence where Emma has to inform Harriet Smith that Elton really loves Emma rather than Harriet. The dolly moves very slowly, almost intently, to reflect the gravity of the conversation between the pair.
Sound bridges are used throughout, linking one scene to the next, but too often in a coy and artificial manner, calling attention to themselves. Often a character says one word while another character continues the conversation in the next shot, sometimes days later. Flashbacks are often used, presumably to comic effect, as when Harriet tries to tell Elton about a party while flashbacks show only her ineptitude, or social failures.
Match cuts are sometimes used, as when Churchill saves Harriet from gypsies and reaches out his hand, matched in the next shot at home.
Diegetic cuts (cuts that jump from one part of the story to the next, omitting time in between; also called "elliptical") are often used, but too self-consciously, so the effect is cute rather than expressive. Emma says she will not play the piano, until she's told her rival will play instead, while the next shot shows Emma playing the piano. Emma speaks of her disappointment at not being invited to a party followed by a cut of her greeting the hostess of the party, at the conclusion of a word ("cannot") started in the previous cut days earlier.
Some sound effects can be annoying, especially the stormy wind while Emma rides in the carriage with Elton on Christmas Eve. The sound of the wind seems like an unnecessary effect, since the wind is not an important part of the scene.
The acting, especially in the early part of the film, sounds more like recitation. Much of the dialogue is spoken like verse even though it's prose. Gwyneth Paltrow is often guilty of mannered recitation of her lines, like she was reading her lines as elegant prose rather than speaking them to express feelings.
The characters of Mrs. Bates and Miss Bates are ridiculously one-dimensional, apparently to elicit easy laughs from viewers. Mrs. Bates, who says nothing but looks stupid throughout, is one of the unfortunate characters in the film. This is no longer the world of Jane Austen but of modern American sitcoms.
Scholars and serious film critics will always consult the source, if the movie is adapted and if they don't know it already. Here's the paragraph where Jane Austin discusses Mrs. and Miss Bates; students can make up their minds whether the movie is faithful to the source material, or at least changed it to creative effect, rather than merely to cater to easy laughs from audiences (for the complete novel, go here):
Mrs. Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a
very old lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille.
She lived with her single daughter in a very small way, and was
considered with all the regard and respect which a harmless old lady,
under such untoward circumstances, can excite. Her daughter enjoyed
a most uncommon degree of popularity for a woman neither young,
handsome, rich, nor married. Miss Bates stood in the very worst
predicament in the world for having much of the public favour;
and she had no intellectual superiority to make atonement to herself,
or frighten those who might hate her into outward respect.
She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness. Her youth
had passed without distinction, and her middle of life was devoted
to the care of a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a small
income go as far as possible. And yet she was a happy woman,
and a woman whom no one named without good-will. It was her own
universal good-will and contented temper which worked such wonders.
She loved every body, was interested in every body's happiness,
quicksighted to every body's merits; thought herself a most fortunate
creature, and surrounded with blessings in such an excellent mother,
and so many good neighbours and friends, and a home that wanted
for nothing. The simplicity and cheerfulness of her nature,
her contented and grateful spirit, were a recommendation to every body,
and a mine of felicity to herself. She was a great talker upon
little matters, which exactly suited Mr. Woodhouse, full of trivial
communications and harmless gossip.
The film's one redeeming element is the musical score by Rachel Portman, which won an Oscar. Though at times sounding like a Georges Delerue clone, with its baroque trappings and sostenuto (sustained) strings, it at least has character the rest of the film lacks. It has a point of view, is expressive throughout, and is always to the point. In other words, it interprets the film's subtext in a way the film never does. Otherwise the film seems to this viewer at least more a literary adaptation than a film adaptation, as the recitation of the dialogue and bland production design too often reflect.
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