When our club began, around a bonfire on an expectant May evening last spring, the idea was that we would challenge ourselves and one another, accompanied by like-minded folk and good things to eat and drink. For instance, none of us had read Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice which, to the three of us, seemed rather appalling. For my part, it had been assigned to the Advanced Placement English class when I was in high school and not being party to that particular curriculum, I figured I wasn’t really smart enough to handle it. As I approached the graduation date for my master’s work, I thought it might be that I am finally smart enough to read Austen and a dear friend convinced me that I might even enjoy it (thanks Liz!).
Needless to say, our first club read was Pride & Prejudice and I loved it. I think I’d like to give it another go, see what else I catch, but my earlier suspicions came to fruition: I was both capable and smitten. I am Elizabeth Bennett. Dear Mr. Darcy: Whatever you want. You got it. I’m yours.
Now, months later, I read Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet in preparation to see the show at the Guthrie Theater with my Love. As we read it together, me for the third time, I realized that I don’t actually like the story at all. Two teenagers give liberty to their hormones during a life stage when there is no room for compromise or accommodation, seek council from a priest with his own agenda, and, despite the autonomy they think they have from their social groups, feel they have no option but to kill themselves. This is awfully desperate if you ask me; and not the kind of sexy desperate in Sarah McLachlan’s “Possession,” but an unreasonable kind of desperate, like an overly tired, feverish four-year-old throwing a temper tantrum over a well-established bedtime routine. Dear Romeo and Juliet: You’re fourteen. Get over yourselves.
What Romeo & Juliet does have going for it is the amiable Benvolio, the ruthless Tybalt, the raucous Mercutio, and such brilliant writing as “Ask for me tomorrow and you shall find me a grave man” and the whole “but soft!...” nonsense. Also Shakespeare. Who’s to argue with Bill anyway? No self-respecting indigenous English speaker would argue that he was brilliant with a pen, even if you don’t get it or enjoy it. Bravo sir.
After reading the books, one can move on to picking movies apart. Both stories have a modern version and a slightly less modern version. Let’s begin…
In seventh grade, in a private, Catholic school, it was thrilling even for me (a girl) to see Juliet’s boob. One boob. Wow, we’re adults now, the school says so. As if that wasn’t enough to handle as an adolescent, Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes had to go and make brilliant work out of the script with Baz Luhrman. As I watched the film again last week I thought: Boy were they devastatingly beautifully and stunningly talented. Yikes. Also Baz Luhrman is kind of awesome.
On to "Pride & Prejudice:” there is a five-hour, critically accurate BBC version and a more modern film starring Kiera Knightly. The BBC film boasts an exact portrayal of the text and made up for its length by employing Colin Firth to play Mr. Darcy. That was a wise choice. (Did you see him in “Love Actually?” “Bonita Aurelia…” sigh.) The second film, being not quite as true a reproduction, was visually more stunning, a bit darker with stronger sexual tension (see Sarah McLachlan’s “Possession” once again), and an almost-as-sultry-as-Colin-Firth-Mr.-Darcy in Matthew MacFayden. Also a wise choice.
Needless to say, Pride & Prejudice was my favorite all around: book, movie, story. The two stories really can’t be compared, they’re just so different. But as two of the greatest love stories ever told, comparisons are bound to be made. What are some of the other great love stories? Please share, especially if they are lovely like Pride & Prejudice and not ridiculous like Romeo & Juliet.
