Kieran_Kenney

One can feel daunted by the task of taking in a two hour chamber dramedy of manners, where the focus of excitement tends to fall not on a character's chance of heart but on their next chance of wardrobe. It's common enough to see such a project with lots of entrances and exits with bowing and curtsying, giggling girls and stiff men with overgrown sideburns, a lead actress who's obviously too old, and a night interior which the light coming from the fireplace illuminates the room a little too evenly.

With that in mind I was consistently surprised by this version of the Jane Austen novel. The dialog-reliant tale of romantic misunderstanding and class relations has been made into a film that is faithful at least in spirit, but is refreshing in it's presentation.

Casting is key. The Bennett family, at the center of the story, is a wonderful example in itself of ensemble acting when it works. A mix of seasoned professionals and new faces (though mostly the former), there is wonderful chemistry between them.

Kiera Knightly's portrayal of Lizzie, the central character, is marvelous. Knightly, a talented and achingly gorgeous creature, has everything it takes to place herself in both the character and the time period, while remaining a real, identifiable point of reference for the character. Some of her mannerisms seem a bit modern and unusual for this type of film. When she meets a handsome male character for the first time, she sneaks a peak at his bottom. It may not sound very significant, but moments such as that, and there are many, give her character the truth, the timelessness, it needs. This skill extends to many of her fellow performers. True to the time, accessible to modern eyes, timeless. Many scenes have the breeze and honestly of a superior teen comedy.

The camera-work, by Roman Osin, is equally exemplary. The camera moves quite frequently, more than one would expect. The colors register beautifully, particularly in outdoor scenes. And perhaps the most inventive scene of all would be the one with the swing at the gate. (If you want to see what I mean, you'll just have to go and see it. I can't do it justice with a description)

Don't forget, of course, that this is still a period film, and it does still feature many of the hallmarks (some might say pitfalls) of the genre. Personally I enjoy such films even if they do consist mostly of medium shots of Emma Thompson in a corset, suffering by the window. There is the presence of Dame Judi. Nothing against her, she is a predictable presence, though a welcome enough one. The men in the film are also stock character types, but this may be something to accept. After all, it's women's film.

I would not suggest this film to a casual viewer, but I do advise seeing the film to anyone with a decent attention span and an open mind. In some small but enchanting ways, it's a fresh take on a classic story and a genre known for being predictable. Hopefully we will be seeing more from it's director, Joe Wright, very soon.

With exteriors filmed in pastoral Cunnecticut and an excellent cast of Griffith's top actors (Florence Lawrence, Mary Pickford, Kate Bruce, baby Gladys Egan), The Country Doctor is still an effective dramatic work, showing a doctor's moral and emotional struggle over treating a young patient while his own daughter lies dying at home.

The family's happiness at the beginning of the film is emphasized with very long takes of the happy threesome walking down their garden path, stopping in a field to pick flowers, smiling and stretching their arms skyward with contentment. Miz Larwence chews the scenery somewhat in these first shots, her gesturing breaking the serenity of the landscape. Once the film goes indoors and she trades her white summer gown for a sober black dress, she is much more controlled. The doctor/father, Frank Powell, also uses some dated indication techniques throughout the film. The real laurels go to the two children of the film, Gladys Egan and Adele DeGarde, who both play their sick-little-girl roles superbly, with subtle, realistic emotion.

There is especially lovely cinematography and scenery in this film. Billy Bitzer's opening and closing panoramic shots of the valley are stunning. Well worth seeing for many reasons, and definitely accessible to modern viewers.

I saw two trailers for this film, both of them fascinating documents, restored to near-mint condition by the Library of Congress (their present home). The first was black and white, with a lot of attention payed to Fay Lanphier, the hazel-eyed, honey-blond beauty who had just be crowned Miss America 1925. A close-up of her is followed by a shot of Esther Ralston, but I initially thought it was another shot of her (they look so much alike). Briefly seen is a comedic bit where Louise Brooks is showing a man some undesired romantic interest.

The second trailer starts with giving the measurements of Venus di Milo, and asking the female half of the audience if they measure up. This trailer is tinted violet and contains some technicolor footage, two shots exactly, which apparently show the staging of 'tableaux vivants' (I should mention that W.T. Benda's only screen role appears to have made it down through the ages in one of these shots). There is a shot of a teary-eyed Lanphier, a repeated shot of Ralston flexing her arms in a bathing suit, and what appears to be the second half of the scene between Brooks and the man (it has to be Lawrence Gray). In this shot, he is trying to keep Brooks' presence in the room a secret from Edna Mae Oliver.

The presence of seventy-five beautiful women AND the latest fashions from Paris are highly stressed in both advertisements. Interestingly, nobody remembers Fay Lanphier today, but once Brooks flashes across the screen, the entire theater sounded with applause. One thing that struck me about Lanphier: not only is she beautiful (and photogenic) she seems to have been a decent actress as well. What went wrong? Unless the rest of the film surfaces, we are likely never to know.

Production values are great. Always happy to see some two-strip Technicolor, and the set- ups they exposed it too in 1926 were great. Maybe one day we'll see the whole thing, the way it was meant to be seen.