Persuasion (2022): A Review

Rotten Tomato Ville

Jul 23, 2022

Introduction

The journey begins, my friends. I’ve finished my review of Persuasion and I’m coming back after the fact to write a little introductory note. I’m having a cursory look at other reviews and I’m sensing that my feelings are more or less in line with the mainstream. That in and of itself is remarkable for the mere fact that I’m generally that person protesting against the tide, saying, “But-but, what about this?” One YouTube Reviewer asked the question, “Is PERSUASION the worst Jane Austen adaptation ever?”1

Before proceeding in the video, I stopped to really ponder the question. I thought back to all the Jane Austen adaptations over the last four decades. I mean, I could go back even further to Laurence Olivier, but let’s do try to be kind and not even compare this to Laurence Olivier. I thought about the gold standard of Jane Austen adaptations: Pride and Prejudice (1995); Sense and Sensibility (1995)? But let’s go down even further, lay aside the gold standard. Pride and Prejudice (2005) and Sense and Sensibility (2008) certainly had their charms, such as excellent casting, cinematography, editing, and music. The inescapable conclusion for me is that even Mansfield Park (1999, 2007) were superior adaptations compared to this travesty from Netflix. I’m not sure about Emma adaptations; the Gwyneth Paltrow and Kate Beckinsale versions, both made in 1996, are at the bottom of the heap. I never saw the 2020 adaptation, but I did see the 2009 BBC version starring Romola Garai, and I think as far as Emma goes, that one is the best. All in all, I have to say that I do think Persuasion (2022) is indeed the worst Jane Austen adaptation for the screen ever produced. It is a rotten tomato. I’m sorry to say it. I wanted to like it. I liked some things (small things) about it, such as the attempt at diversity. I’m going to take you through it piece and piece and try to explain what I think is wrong here and what I hope is never repeated in cinema again. But first things first….

First things first: The Book

I read the book Persuasion by Jane Austen 20 years ago. For a long time, I considered it my favorite Austen work—a nonconsecutive favorite, of course, because roughly ten years ago I decided that Sense and Sensibility was the favorite; and then, when I enrolled in a Jane Austen seminar in 2014, the favored Austen work vacillated between Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion. (And I’m a massive fan of the parody novel by Seth Graham-Smith, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies!) But I will say this, that my favorite Austen line has never changed, and it comes from Persuasion:

“She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning.”2

That! I, like Anne Elliot, was more prudent and persuadable in my youth. And now, in my fourth decade, I’m a hopeless romantic. 20 years ago, I was a radical, with strong, obnoxious political opinions. Now, I’m just a softie and a moderate. Granted, I do love a good superlative every now and then.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…. It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness….”3

I always think of the novel in two camps. You’ve got the Uppercross world and the Elliot world, the latter initially stationed at Kellynch Hall but then, and for the bulk of the novel, quartered in Bath. The Uppercross set represents modernity, liveliness. Old Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove are not very lively, but we hardly ever see them, and for what we see of them, we see a satisfying contrast to the dissatisfying domesticity in the Elliot family. Uppercross is dominated by the energy of the Musgroves’ adult children—the boisterous Miss Musgroves and the heir Charles, and then there is hypochondriac Mary, who is jealous of the attention lavishly bestowed on the pretty and single Miss Musgroves. Uppercross is a world that is colorful and fun, alive, openminded, friendly, where Anne admires “the necessity which the family habits seemed to produce, of everything being to be communicated, and everything being to be done together, however undesired and inconvenient.”4

Then you have the Elliots in Bath who are cold, closed-minded, and pretentious. Rank, beauty, and elegance are the fixations in the Elliot world. Gaity and dancing are the preoccupations at Uppercross. Stuck in the middle, we might say, there is the lonely Anne, who is “nobody. She was only Anne.”5

As far as the reader is concerned, however, Anne is everything. She is only nobody to the preoccupied or disinterested other characters. Her perspective predominates for the reader. Austen occasionally takes us outside of Anne’s mind, but only if Anne is not there. If Anne happens to be in the room, we perceive the action solely from Anne’s point of view. Our feelings are Anne’s feelings. Our thoughts are for and about Anne.

In terms of scenery, we start at Kellynch, we go to Uppercross, we day trip it to Lyme, we briefly return to Kellynch, but we end in Bath. We have a long rising action from the time Captain Wentworth arrives in Anne’s life again. The climax occurs in Lyme. The tragedy occurs there; the twist introduces itself in the form of Anne’s cousin, Mr. Elliot, the prodigal heir. And from there, the emotional roller coaster continues until, at long last, we have our satisfying conclusion.

That is the novel. Now let’s look briefly at the past adaptations for the screen.

Past adaptations

Adaptations of Persuasion for the screen are, in a word, awkward. First of all, any director who attempts it must decide which ending he or she wants to use, for Austen wrote two endings for the novel that appeared in print in the year after her death. The 1818 ending is, we might say, the canon. This is the generally preferred one. But in 1869, Austen’s nephew, James, added the alternative ending (penned but rejected by Austen before her death) to the memoir he wrote about her life. The 1995 BBC adaptation opted for the canon ending. The 2007 ITV adaptation (screenplay by Simon Burke) opted for the alternative ending.

**Rupert Penry-Jones (Captain Frederick Wentworth) and Sally Hawkins (Anne Elliot) on location in Bath, filming** **Persuasion** **(2007).** Owen Benson, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

There is another issue for the potential director of a Persuasion adaptation in the 21st century. That is the fact that Persuasion has little in the way of appeal for the feminist mentality. This might be said of any Austen novel, for all of her heroines aspire above all to be married. However, we do see feminist tones, if subtle ones, in the sassiness of Elizabeth Bennet, of Pride and Prejudice, as well as in the headstrong attitudes of Marianne Dashwood, of Sense and Sensibility. Elizabeth is determined to marry for love and forthrightly opposes the nonsense of Mr. Darcy. Marianne is defiant of social conventions that she regards as silly. Anne, in contrast, displays none of either Elizabeth’s brazenness, nor an ounce of Marianne’s reckless behavior. Anne is cautious, considerate, soft spoken, without any desire to be a revolutionary. Anne has a clever and strong mind, to be sure; she successfully stands against the insincerity of Mr. Elliot, her father’s heir and the dark knight of the story, as opposed to Captain Wentworth’s white knight. However, she does it in so polite and sweet a way that even Mr. Elliot finds it too charming to be offended.

Modernizations

2020 saw a modern retelling that turned the whole story on its head, making Anne a working professional in Manhattan and Frederick an entrepreneur from Silicon Valley.6 And now we have the Netflix adaptation (2022) which revolutionizes the historiography even further by riding the current of diversity. We know that Hollywood is on a particular course at the moment to counter the #OscarsSoWhite hashtag. The historical genres (fiction and nonfiction) are no exception. Notable cases in point include Netflix’s Bridgerton and AMC’s biopic of Anne Boleyn, starring Jodie Turner-Smith in the title role. I was not surprised, therefore, to find the traditionally old white lady role of Lady Russell cast with a youthful and fresh woman of color (Nikki Amuka-Bird). Nor did I raise an eyebrow to note that the Musgrove family are represented en masse by POC or BIPOC. This does not bother me at all; I am sincere when I say that this is not the film’s fault. I’ve always been a fan of the idea of “anti-type” casting. If the actor brings something great to the role, the skin color is irrelevant. The most successful case in point for the irrelevance of skin color that I can think of is the Hamilton musical—we have there a great story and great talent, so who cares about the pigment of their skin? I mean, there are times when anti-type is annoying, like a non-ginger Henry VIII, but for the most part, it’s generally possible to suspend disbelief enough to enjoy the performance for what it is.

All things considered, though, the idea of modernizing Jane Austen never really sits well with me. I like the novels for themselves, as they stand in the Regency era. Complete Austen rewrites like the film Clueless (1995) are another matter; that was taking the novel Emma and placing it in 1990s Beverly Hills, instead of trying to make the original characters what they were not. The streaming service Hulu did a modern rewrite of Persuasion—aforementioned Modern Persuasion (2020)7—casting Alicia Witt in the Anne Elliot role. Of course, the names are altered, titles removed; there are no baronets, nor knight’s widows in New York City, 2020! These examples prove that there is a way to transform the timeless and universal into a modern context without tampering with the novel itself.

My Review of Persuasion (Netflix, 2022)

It begins with piano music and fingers in the grass, and kisses in the sunshine. “I almost got married once,” we hear Dakota Johnson in the voice over. We are off to a fair start, just by Anne being the one to tell us her story. Johnson and Cosmo Jarvis have good chemistry, but I would not say more. They melt and flow together, a seamless river, united and decided, but it’s a river without a waterfall. There are sparks, but I wouldn’t go any further; it’s not fireworks.

Johnson plays it wry. She’s tongue in cheek, sharp-witted, punchy. In the novel, I would never describe Anne as witty or sharp-tongued, but she is certainly observant. She observes all that is ridiculous in her family. It’s just that, in the novel she exercises restraint and discipline. In Johnson’s performance, we have Anne fused with Austen’s witty narrative, naughtiness unleashed, and I have to admit, there is something in that.

The bunny is odd. Anne Elliot stroking a pet bunny? Animate props are a daring choice. Costumes are designed in an appropriately quaint, colorful, period appropriate style by Marianne Agertoft, who also did costume design for Death Comes to Pemberley (2013). That was a Pride and Prejudice sequel based on the novel of the same title by P.D. James, and I think Agertoft did better work there. Here, we see Sir Walter Elliot (Richard E. Grant) characteristically peacocked; his favorite daughter (Elizabeth, Yolanda Kettle) attired in fashionable elegance. In the book, Elizabeth is conceived by Austen as exceptionally beautiful; her superior beauty and elegance are the reasons that she is her father’s favorite. It would be nice to see that superiority of beauty in the adaptation, but, although Yolanda Kettle is pretty, I feel like Miss Elliot needs to be something more than just pretty. In short, the costumes, the art, and the set decoration are all done predictably—pleasing, but flat. When we watch Austen adaptations, we want to see beautifully dressed people in grand houses that are filled with exquisite art and furnishings. The film does give us that, but it does not exceed expectations.8 Again, sparks without fireworks!

Lady Russell (Nikki Amuka-Bird) stands out as a POC amid the lily white Elliots, in a good way; we have to say it because it is a breakthrough, never before done in the Austen adaptation genre. The character stands out, too, as Anne’s particular friend and the only person in the Elliot circle who takes any notice or has any value for Anne’s opinion. Anne tells us, looking directly at the camera, that Lady Russell is “always insightful and helpful, with one notable exception.” But we do see Lady Russell as remorseful and apologetic for persuading Anne against marriage to the ambitious but penniless naval officer, Frederick Wentworth. And so, while Sir Walter and the eldest Miss Elliot are unapologetic and clueless about Anne’s feelings or the part they share in wounding those feelings, Lady Russell is seen here to have the potential for redemption. It is similar in the novel, where we see Lady Russell as having good intentions. She is the fairy godmother who meant only to protect Anne from a life of youth-killing dependence. (I believe Austen might have used those words, “youth-killing dependence,” somewhere in Persuasion, but it might have been Mansfield Park.)

I find the most severe transgressions in the screenplay. Ross Bass and Alice Victoria Winslow tamper too much with Austen’s precious wording and, the Austen lover in me cannot forgive that. I will give points, though, for the effort to fill the novel’s gaps in dialogue. I just wish the filling had been more Regency, less Generation Z. I’ll also give points for comedy—things like the lock of hair from Frederick’s horse, Samson, “whom I scarcely knew,” but still preserved for sentimental reasons. Curiously, they give Anne’s dead mother the name of Jane. Jane Austen, author, is equated with her heroine’s mother! (In the book, Anne’s mother is an Elizabeth, same as Anne’s elder sister, senior Miss Elliot.)

Uppercross is as vibrant and charismatic as the Elliot world is absurd and soul-crushing. Even with Mary in some state of ailment on the sofa, we’ve got the fabulous Musgrove sisters (Nia Towle and Izuka Hoyle) and the dull but easygoing Charles (Ben Bailey-Smith) to keep Anne’s, and therefore our spirits up. Johnson’s Anne continues in her strain of being more forthcoming than the Anne of the novel. In the novel, she does not wear her romantic history on her sleeve. Austen’s Anne has immense discretion. Netflix has given us a chatty, witty, wry, confessional Anne.

As a comedy of errors, it is an entertaining film. Visually, artistically, fashionably…. It works, even if I’d hardly call it sailing. As an adaptive screenplay, it falls short. This Anne and this Frederick blend well together, which they do in the novel too, but not for the same reasons—nor remotely to the same level of electricity! In the novel, they are both discreet and observant. Here, they sing the same tune, and there is consonance, but it’s a completely different tune than the one Austen wrote, at least in Persuasion. It might be more in line with Austen’s playful tones, such as the ones we see between Wickham and Elizabeth before she learns the truth, or between Willoughby and Marianne.

Bass and Winslow do preserve some of the best lines from the author, I’m happy to say. Such as:

“His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.”

But they changed “Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches” into Johnson’s first-person “I prefer open hostility.” Is it just me, or do these lines sound like two distinct characters? One is ashamed, or just uncomfortable. The other is brash and confrontational, impatient, resentful! In the novel, we never sense resentment from Anne. She is sad. She laments the situation. But she never stops loving or admiring Frederick, not for one moment.

I prefer the softer Anne to this coarser one. Johnson has her moments of melancholy, such as when she’s sitting in a window seat at Uppercross Cottage, petting her rabbit. “A heartbeat ago,” she says, “there were no two souls more in rhythm than Wentworth and I.”

This is only a slight variation from Austen:

“….there could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved. Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.”9

I’ll say it a thousand times! I like Austen’s words better, and I can tell from the other reviews, that I am far from singular in this opinion!

There are some things in the movie which I appreciate for themselves even though they are not in the novel. One such thing is the confidence between Louisa Musgrove and Anne Elliot. Most Austen novels have female companions for the heroine. Elizabeth Bennet has her sister Jane, her aunt Gardiner, her friend Charlotte Lucas. The Dashwood sisters have each other. Emma Woodhouse has Mrs. Weston and Harriet Smith. Catherine Moreland has Isabella Thorpe and Eleanor Tilney. Fanny Price has Mary Crawford. But Anne? Anne has no one. This film gives Anne a female friend to defend her. I love it when Louisa (Nia Towle) defends Anne to Frederick. It’s not in the book, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. In the book, we do see hints of how both of the Musgrove sisters respect and love Anne, but the film takes it a notch further. Sisters defending each other is always ok in my book.

“Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.”10

David Lally / *Steps on the Cob* / CC BY-SA 2.0

A Persuasion adaptation without on location filming in Lyme Regis is like Queen Elizabeth II without corgis in tow. It’s de rigueur, and in this, Persuasion (2022) does not disappoint.11 In the novel, Lyme is a major turning point: we see Anne growing more independent. All this time away from her stifling father and elder sister has been good for her. She has been dousing herself in the livelier ways at Uppercross, and now at Lyme, she’s getting to know Wentworth’s unpretentious friends, Harville (Edward Bluemel) and Benwick (Afolabi Alli.) No wonder she transforms in this place into a woman to inspire Frederick’s gallantry again.

From the book, we have:

“He gave her a momentary glance, a glance of brightness, which seemed to say, ‘That man is struck with you, and even I, at this moment, see something like Anne Elliot again.’”12

In the novel, Frederick does begin to recognize Anne’s merits again, and this film attempts to convey that by a well-written scene between the leading characters on the beach. But well-written it might be, it’s not Austen. It’s 21st century. It’s Hollywood. “Now we’re worse than exes,” says Johnson after Jarvis walks away. “We’re friends.” At least they didn’t say FRIEND ZONED. Thank Goddess they didn’t go that far!

There is a heavy sexual tension between Johnson and Henry Golding, who plays Wentworth rival Mr. Elliot. The flirtation is palpable. He undresses her with his eyes. There is a risqué, and wholly out of sync with Austen, exchange between them about the tentacles of an octopus in the Dalrymple scene. It feels more Fifty Shades of Grey (see Dakota Johnson’s filmography) than Austen.13

Lady Russell (Amuka-Bird) taunts Anne (Johnson) about the sort of liberties a widow of rank and fortune might take in the world. In the novel, Lady Russell has a social temperament. Unlike Anne, she is not taciturn. She enjoys company. Yet they are the best of friends. Lady Russell appreciates Anne’s good sense. Anne seems to appreciate Lady Russell’s good taste. But Anne, in the novel, does find fault with Lady Russell on at least two counts:

“She had a cultivated mind, and was, generally speaking, rational and consistent; but she had prejudices on the side of ancestry; she had a value for rank and consequence, which blinded her a little to the faults of those who possessed them.”14

Lady Russell likes Mr. Elliot because he is heir of Sir Walter, a baronet, but Lady Russell persuaded Anne against marrying Frederick Wentworth because he lacked rank and fortune. And yet Frederick has the better character of the two eligible bachelors. But even as Anne and her friend arrive in Bath, Anne is wary of Mr. Elliot’s seeming perfection. That millennial speak that dominates the film puts it this way, in the mouth of Dakota Johnson, that Mr. Elliot “is a ten, and I never trust a ten.” (That is not true at all to the character of Anne Elliot, who, in the novel, compares the manners of Frederick Wentworth as “the very best that could possibly be!” She would never give the highest rating to any other man!)

It is just too modern, this film. If you want 21st century jargon, write a 21st century story. You can use the Persuasion story arc, because there are plenty of universal and timeless characteristics to draw from, but you don’t have to muddy Jane Austen’s classic language to do it. Bottom line: This film is a parody rather than an adaptation of Persuasion. It has some visual beauty. The pictures look great. The acting is good, but scarcely above average. The screenplay is decent as something written by 21st century writers, but frankly, I’ve seen a lot better.

Music by Stuart Earl is good, but I’ll put it like this: It’s like they slopped together some classical music and called it a day. Of course it’s good, because Beethoven. Hello! The pop song at the end belongs in another film.

The ending is muddled. They muddle together the two Austen endings, actually. Oddly enough, for a film that attempted to do something modern and supposedly real, Jane Austen was more authentic. In the novel, for example, Mr. Elliot never remarries; he simply takes a mistress. But here, in this Carrie Cracknels-directed travesty, we are pretending that Mr. Elliot and Mrs. Clay are love match? OK.

ModernGurlz. “Is Persuasion the Worst Jane Austen Adaptation Ever?” YouTube. 18 July 2022.