Season 17 - Northanger Abbey (1987-1988)
This isn't Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, despite her name being on it and the depiction of Bath as a cacophonous, nightmarish horror that might be the only onscreen depiction that accurately aligns with her opinions of the place. This is a Georgian Fairy Tale by way of Lewis Carroll and Kate Bush. An eighties fever dream that almost defies explanation or categorization. Music that literally breathes, synths and smoke machines aplenty, and is that an anachronistic sax solo? Why yes it is. Kenny G has been transported back in time to before the existence of saxophones to try to help Henry woo fair maiden. But is he wooing her in actuality or in fantasy? Because while I thought it was fun and unique in the 2007 adaptation of Northanger Abbey when they showed Catherine's fantasy life, it worked because it was used sparingly. Here the ratio of reality to reverie is heavily weighted to scenes of Robert Hardy washing his hands in baptismal fonts of blood. But then again, red is his color. As it is the color of all antagonistic characters, General Tilney, Frederick Tilney, and Isabella Thorpe, in her Wonderland finery. They even throw in a Carrollian Marchioness and her young black servant who leads Catherine into a garden to watch him do cartwheels. Though once we get to Henry spouting nonsensical verse; "since you have left the white rosebush has died of grief," I think we had definitely gone too far. But there literally was no looking back. The path out of the hedge maze had disappeared. Years ago when my most hated Jane Austen adaptation of all time came out, the 1999 Mansfield Park, my Mom's best friend said it helped if I pretended it wasn't based on the Jane Austen book. Advice I couldn't take, because no matter what rose-tinted glasses you are wearing they can't replace Francis O'Connor. So I tried that trick here, this is so weird, verging on historical fantasy, with all the insanity and nightmare inducing imagery of a film marketed to kids in the eighties, but I couldn't get beyond the Henry Tilney of it all. Even if I were to disconnect him entirely from Austen, the complete lack of chemistry and his attitude destroyed any chance of this becoming a weird cult classic for me. But if we do look at it as an Austen adaptation they are guilty of the greatest sin. They destroyed Henry Tilney. To me, Henry Tilney is the best of Austen's men. He is funny, he is self-deprecating, he is so alive. He's not just brooding, he's vital. Forget Darcy, I want Henry! Which is why it's such a sin what they do to him here. He is a condescending pompous prig. He's someone who totally believes in "teachable moments." Peter Firth's portrayal of Henry belittles Catherine. Why would she ever marry this insufferable twat who is so self-impressed he thinks he can sing Italian? Which he can't. Also, how does he have his own estate? He's supposed to be a humble clergyman, not running some estate that so wouldn't have gone to him because he has an elder brother. I mean, did anyone involved in this know anything about the Regency? Men and women sure as hell didn't bath together in the public baths that's for sure. It might make a nice scene, but it's all fantasy. Which, actually, yeah, that tracks for this production. It was all a dream. A very lucid fever dream. Cue the Kate Bush music.
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