A Room with a View

At first I wasn't sure how I'd react to this remake because I used to think I enjoyed the original, but I was pleasantly surprised to find it much easier to follow the *story* and see the *characters* in this retelling. It was actually quite refreshing.

I didn't realize until I saw this version that the 1985 film is so self-consciously stylistic that it ends up being too clever for its own good. In the original, the intonation by the actors is so stilted that the dialogue feels like a series of non sequiturs. Every shot screams, "Look! Look at this gorgeous cinematography!" There isn't much chemistry between the two romantic leads, Daniel Day Lewis reduces Cecil to a tedious cartoon character, and Denholm Elliott overdoes his accent. Julian Sands, though interesting, seems more like a brother from another planet than a thoughtful subversive. In the Merchant-Ivory version, the story and the characters get buried under a layer of heavily vaselined romanticism.

Through this bittersweet remake, I finally saw the story and felt I better understood what Forster was trying to say in his book. You see the Emersons' working-class roots and how they stick out among the more genteel travelers in Florence. You get to really see Cecil as a good but flawed human being. And, most importantly, you see Lucy as a sweet but unsure girl growing into a bright young woman in spite of herself.

Director Renton keeps a light touch and doesn't spend any more time than is necessary on any part of the story. You see a dinner party, you hear a rough voice cut through the chatter, you see Charlotte put on the spot. That's the point of that scene, and it does its job with no extra fanfare. There is no inordinate amount of time spent on playing up some tennis game or skinnydipping episode. No one is allowed to chew the scenery.

As a result, I felt moved by the passion between Lucy and George in a way that I didn't when watching the original. I felt the pain caused by their predicament. The scenes between Lucy and George were more emotionally charged, especially when Lucy has her epiphany. In the 1985 version, every scene between the two leads feels like little more than comic relief.

And yes, I liked the ending in this version. It added gravity to the story and helped me feel the depth of Lucy's love for George. Kudos to Andrew Davies, Nicholas Renton, and especially to Rafe Spall and the beautiful Elaine Cassidy. They all did a brilliant job in bringing a terrific story to life. By the end of this version, I had forgotten all about the original and fell in love with these characters all over again.

I see that Elaine Cassidy has been tipped for the top. Her Lucy Honeychurch catches some of what Helena Bonham Carter missed in the Merchant Ivory film, without succeeding in eclipsing her. The main improvement is that she and a surprisingly unfoppish Laurence Fox look like a more realistic pair of lovers in this Andrew Davies adaptation than HBC and DDL and seem fated for different reasons. I wasn't quite so immediately convinced Rafe Spall had what it took to part them.

Sophie Thompson never disappoints and is a fabulous Charlotte, Mark Williams turns in another great piece of work as does Timothy West.

In fact, compared to the Merchant Ivory version, most of the characters have a little more nuanced colour in their cheeks, with the exception of Freddie and Mrs Honeychurch. What stops this taking off and flying is the lack of real vitality in the script and a lot of direction which tends toward the pedestrian.

Although, on balance, I think I still prefer the Merchant Ivory version, there's plenty enough here to enjoy.

When I saw this TV adaptation I enjoyed it in its own right, not having read the novel, but having now read it I must say the additions in Andrew Davies' script, which hadn't offended me in themselves as they did some other viewers, now seem to me to be rather silly and to contravene Forster without improving on him. For one thing, Davies insists on the class distinction between the lovers, but Forster makes it clear that this is not so great: Lucy's family is unaristocratic and has only been admitted to better society by a geographical accident. Then, Davies insists on the homosexual inclination of two characters, which is not only to read between the lines but to go beyond what Forster wrote. He might or might not have seen that as a part of their make-up; it wouldn't matter to the story either way; but I think it's safe to say Forster's Rev. Beebe would never have gone looking for "action" in Italy as Davies' does (or as Davies himself does through the character), and in any case this is irrelevant to the aspect the character presents in the novel; and to use the descriptions Beebe and Forster's other characters give of Cecil Vyse as hints toward his sexual tendency is to misread them; Forster has a different and more interesting view of his nature, and leaves him in, one might say, a world all his own. Finally, the epilogue, which is derived from Forster's speculation on what might happen to the characters "after" the novel, is irrelevant for just that reason: it lies outside the scope of the novel, which is complete in itself.

I do think, however, that this adaptation has a couple of things in its favor, but perhaps not greatly in its favor, over the theatrical film. The novel is a comic novel--a comedy of manners, if the term may be applied to a novel--that reads lightly and trippingly, although it deals with the serious subjects of love and self-knowledge. Its happy idea is something like this: even a fleeting kiss can reveal essential truth and by its light expose all competing falsehoods. The first film was rather too grand for its source, like a vellum-bound gold-tipped limited edition; this version is more to scale. However, it too veers away from the comic, dropping much of the (apparently) trivial chatter while not only retaining but expanding on most of the (seemingly) more serious exchanges. Here Lucy, the character who receives wisdom, seems more accurately cast, being of more indeterminate class (and affections), younger, and more unworldly, though still not quite young enough and not quite the Lucy of the novel, since the script doesn't put her through all the paces Forster does. However, most of the secondary characters are miscast: Sinead Cusack might profitably have traded roles with Elizabeth McGovern, and Timothy West with Timothy Spall, and brought greater weight, as in the novel, to the roles of the mother and the spiritual mentor, making Lucy's changes of direction more credible. I think now that this adaptation, while enjoyable in itself, shared Lucy's condition: it needed a little spiritual guidance too.

Oh dear. When it comes to remakes, or "re-imaginings" or whatever the current vogue is for churning out an old favourite with a new cast, Sir Michael Caine said it best: only remake the flops. It makes perfect sense: if you fail then everyone thinks one can't make a silk purse from a sow's ear, but if you succeed then it's bouquets all round.

But that remaking a classic like James Ivory's film of E. M. Forsters's novel of Edwardian manners is folly of the highest order was borne out last night with this limp and unengaging ITV drama.

Wrapping the action in a clumsy flashback device robbed the story of any freshness or spontaneity, and it quickly became a lot like watching a school play version of one of your favourite films.

There were some interesting touches - Mark WIlliams' closeted Mr Beebe picking up Florentine rentboys would have brought a blush to Forster's cheeks. Also amusing were Mr Beebe's blushes as George Emerson and Freddie Honeychurch shed their clothes for the famous bathing scene. But in order the find the gold there was a good deal of dross.

Comparing any actress to Dame Maggie Smith is unfair, but Sophie Thompson really came off badly - her Miss Bartlett nothing more than the same irritating ticks and tricks she always uses. There was no real person there. Laurence Fox's far-too-handsome Cecil Vyse seemed to be reading his lines from a cue card and far more interested in his clothes than in Lucy.

All in all it makes one deeply fearful for adapter Andrew Davies' upcoming version of Brideshead Revisited.

I've rarely watched a movie that has had such a negative effect on my enjoyment of it in the last five minutes as this one did. Everything else about this was an absolute delight to me. I thought Lucy and George were cast perfectly and the actors played them with beautiful subtlety of emotion. The scenes of Italy were visually gorgeous. Thoroughly enjoyable until an utterly stupefying ending that was as unnecessary as it was nonsensical. You could literally cut out the last five minutes or so of the movie after the two lovers have gone to sleep in their hotel room and everything makes intuitive and emotional sense. For me It achieved with natural grace what too many movies only contrive to, yet instead of fading to the credits they tack on an ill fitting ending scenario that wearily negates everything that has happened in a way that is neither believable or logical. Did they change directors at the last minute? Was he just having a bad day on that shoot? I guess I'll never know. Perhaps a recut? It would be an easy one to do; snip off a little bit at the end from an otherwise great film and re-release it the way it should be.