a comment from the Original Author

Rating: Null/10 (28 July 2001)

It is a truth universally acknowledged among publishers that a lady novelist who has written a fetching tale is anxious to see a theatrical production made of it. My prior experience of approaches by young men and women of large fortune who wish to adapt my humble accounts of county life for the kinemascope have left me with a mixture of emotions: pride, surprise, anger, outrage and dismay. Thus I must own to be prejudiced against such adaptions, for they concentrate on the charms of the scenery and the countenances of my characters rather than on what I may call their inner beauty. Alas I can do nought, since my copyrights have well and truly expired.
The present is an attempt to transplant my youthful experiment, `Pride and Prejudice,' written when I was of 18 years age to a London of 200 years hence. Bridget (Miss Renee Zellweger) is a lady of some 30 years still in a single state and very desirous of meeting a suitable young man and settling into matrimony. Unlike my heroine Elizabeth Bennet she is not living at home and has a paid occupation, but nevertheless her mother (Miss Gemma Jones), a foolish woman, is constantly thrusting prospective husbands before her. One, of them, the son of a considerable local family, happens to be named Darcy (Mr. Colin Firth). Following my story, Bridget becomes enamoured of her employer, a Mr Cleaver (Mr. Hugh Grant), an utterly charming man who is a villain so base that my own Mr Wickham pales into insignificance. As in my novels sense prevails, if not sensibility, and Bridget and Darcy are reunited, but not before a great many parties and dinners and even some fisticuffs.
I was struck with the ingenuity of replacing Elizabeth's sisters with Bridget's group of friends, which included a man described as a `pouf' - I take him to be a kind of hairdresser. Much of their communication seem to take place at considerable distances by means of a device which grew out of their ears. I was amazed that little in the way of meaningful social intercourse between men and women took place until they had had sexual intercourse first. I recognised much of the London in which the drama takes place. It looked a great deal cleaner but I was puzzled by the absence of horses though I did notice Bridget driving in the snow at furious speed some manner of self-propelled metal cart, and Mr. Grant had another version with no roof.
One should always allow other writers their artistic licence, even when they use one's own characters, as is the case here. However I must take the writers to task over their Bridget. Like my Elizabeth she is not devastatingly pretty, but she lacks Elizabeth's positive qualities of intelligence and good manners. Bridget spends most of her life in a state of embarrassed self-absorption as she bumbles (is that the word?) from one social fiasco to another. My Elizabeth was never such a clown, and if she were, Darcy would not have been interested in her.
I must however congratulate the performers for their spirited rendering of their parts. Miss Zellweger (who I was amazed to discover is a native of our late American colonies) conveyed the agony of her entertaining but not very appealing character with great flair. Mr. Firth I have seen and admired before in the role of Darcy and he did not disappoint. Mr Jim Broadbent and Miss Gemma Jones were quite affecting as Bridget's parents, though it must be said that, foolish woman though she was, Mrs Bennet would never have run off with anyone, let alone an itinerant jewelry vendor with purple skin.