Well, I’ve been waging an internal debate as to whether or not to blog about this, but having seen that there are some out there of similiar persuasion as I, I decided to go ahead and have my say. Some of you may or may not agree, and I’d love for you to post your comments—you won’t offend me. I know this is just a matter of opinion.

Persuasion is my favorite of Jane Austen’s six completed novels. This should come as no surprise to anyone who knows anything about my Ransome trilogy, which was partly inspired by Persuasion (and partly by Horatio Hornblower). It is by far the most mature of her work, no pun intended given that the heroine is twenty-seven when the book opens. The storytelling is tighter, the pace faster, the characters—all of the characters—better developed.

That said, I do not like the newest film version of Persuasion which aired on PBS this weekend. I know that there are lots of women out there this week just raving over it and how wonderful it was. But there are many things to which I take issue in this fiasco of a film:

1. Sally Hawkins (“Anne Elliot”): In the book, though Anne is pained by Frederick’s return after having broken her engagement to him eight years before, she does not sit around pouting all the time. She has some spunk, some personality, some backbone. She isn’t the mopey, sulking character who STARES AT THE CAMERA (for no apparent reason). Her forebearance was born out of what little self-worth she had: she turned him down, therefore who was she to begrudge him finding a suitable (if silly) wife in Louisa Musgrove? I know that much of this is the director’s fault, but there seems to be no sign of life in the actress’s eyes at any point in time in the movie. Even in the end (which I’ll get to in a minute), she looks like a dead fish when Frederick kisses her. There’s also a line in the book after she joins her family in Bath when her father remarks upon how much fresher, younger, better (don’t remember the exact adjective) she looks. But in this film, her look never changes.

Sally Hawkins is a runny-nosed Anne Elliot . . . effective at times, but at too many others, she surrenders to a wide variety of vocal mannerisms and facial tics. At the end of the film, as she is about to kiss Wentworth (oh, come on, you always knew how it comes out), her mouth twitches like a bass zeroing in on a tasty side order of plankton as her face moves slowly toward its target. David Wiegand, San Francisco Chronicle, 1/11/08

2. Direction/Cinematography: I read somewhere that this version was filmed entirely with hand-held cameras. The jostling and shaking was more reminiscent of an episode of Homicide: Life on the Street than a BBC period piece. Then there were the times (already mentioned) when Sally Hawkins stares at the camera, sans expression, sans dialogue, which just made it creepy and annoying. Also, the scenes and cuts were so quick and short (why couldn’t the length have been extended to two hours??) that there was never a chance to just enjoy the scenery or the characters or the costumes or anything.

3. Poor Character Development: Because of the jumping from scene to scene, none of the characters are allowed to be sufficiently developed–especially the secondary characters. Where was Frederick’s jealousy over Anne seeming to become close to Benwick when in Lyme? What about Anne’s fear that Frederick was as good as engaged to Louisa when she left them all for Bath? What about Mr. Elliot—he seemed only an afterthought in this version? Lady Russell—who is the one who actually convinced Anne to break off her engagement? Admiral and Mrs. Croft? Henrietta and Charles Hayter? Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove, who treated Anne more like a daughter than her own father? Even Mary and Charles Musgrove get a short shrift in this one. This novel has some of the deepest characterization Austen ever developed. This film loses all of it.

4. Rupert Penry-Jones (“Frederick Wentworth”): I’m sorry, but some young, blond guy with no experience in his face, no sense of humor, no indication that he has anything of the sailor about him will ever be a convincing Frederick Wentworth. Certainly, he is good looking, and wears the period costumes quite well. But he reminded me more of Samuel West, who played Mr. Elliot in the 1995 version, than he did of a genuine Frederick Wentworth. I’m not so stuck on Ciaran Hinds being the “ultimate” Wentworth that I wasn’t open to the possibility of liking someone else in the role. It’ll just have to be someone other than Rupert Penry-Jones for me (Karl Urban, anyone?).

But Penry-Jones is far too pretty to be Wentworth. He doesn’t have wisdom and pain written into the lines of his face, as did Ciarán Hinds as Wentworth in the 1995 version – indeed, he has no lines in his face. Matthew Gilbert, the Boston Globe, 1/12/08

5. Changes to the Story: I know that any adaptation of a novel is going to require some divergence from the original source material, either because of the limitations of time or to translate what makes sense on the page but won’t on-screen. But they didn’t just alter the story to fit the length of the film—they actually altered the story structure. The most glaring and heinous crime committed against the novel was the screenwriter’s decision to eliminate the most emotional and crucial scene of the book by transplanting Anne’s “we love longest when all hope is gone” dialogue to two snippets in a conversation with Benwick in Lyme—which Wentworth doesn’t even hear. The scene when Frederick overhears Anne and Capt. Harville having the conversation about women loving longest when all hope is gone is the most emotional scene Jane Austen ever wrote—and is what led Frederick to writing her the note telling her he still loved her and that hope still remained for a reconciliation. They also managed to belie the TITLE OF THE BOOK by changing it so that her father is the one who insisted she break her engagement to Frederick years ago, instead of Anne’s being persuaded by Lady Russell to do so because they were both young, he had nothing to offer, and Anne would just be a burden to him because he had no way to support her. Were they trying to imply that the Anne in the book is weak because she gave into this persuasion—that the viewing audience would only like her if she’d had to break the engagement because of her father’s insistence? That to me is a clear indication that no one involved with this project truly understands the nuances of the novel and what the whole story is about!

6. The Absolutely Hacked-up, Mangled, Not-right Ending: I’ve already gotten into some of this above. When I heard the lines from the climax of the story had been dropped into an insignificant throw-away earlier in the movie, I started getting concerned. Then, when the end finally did come, it was almost as if the filmmakers decided they hadn’t liked the way the book ended so they wrote an almost completely different ending! As I’ve said, the scene in the hotel in Bath when Frederick overhears Anne’s thinly veiled confession that she still loves him (while she’s still talking to Harville) is one of the most poignant, romantic scenes ever written in the history of romance novels! As a lover of Jane Austen’s work, and a scholar of the time period, to see Anne Elliot literally running through the streets of Bath was bordering on offensive—not to mention ridiculous, if they’d just followed the actual ending of the book. And I want you to show me where in the book that he buys her a house! Sure, it doesn’t say that they sailed off into the sunset together, either, but within months of this book, England was once again at war with France (after Bonaparte escaped from Elba—which is mentioned in the 1995 version). I don’t know that Anne would have actually sailed with him, but after the discussion in the book (and the 1995 movie) that Sophie had traveled with Admiral Croft on most of his ships, it’s a much more logical leap to see them on the deck of his ship than dancing in the front yard of a manor house. It’s totally out of character for Frederick Wentworth—his life was the Royal Navy . . . okay, maybe I’m putting a little too much of William Ransome into his character, but still. I was more disappointed with the ending of this movie more than anything else about it.

So, that’s my take on the newest film version of Persuasion. Sure, I’ll buy it when it comes out on DVD, simply because that’s my Austen fixation. And in further viewings, I might find things I like about it. But for now, the 1995 Ciaran Hinds/Amanda Root version remains firmly afixed at the top of my list of favorite Austen films.