It’s important to note that Darcy’s transformation is only abrupt in the sense that we don’t see it taking place gradually. It does occur over many months, but Jane Austen famously refused to write scenes involving men by themselves, or men in purely male company. The precise details of the change in Darcy are not documented minutely – indeed Darcy himself is unable to tell Elizabeth when he first fell for her (BBC Pride and Prejudice screenwriter Andrew Davies has other ideas!) – but this doesn’t mean it happened quickly or arbitrarily. It’s just that we were following Elizabeth, so didn’t get to see it taking place.

Also, while Mr Darcy is unarguably altered morally by his relationship with Elizabeth, we do not see him return to a situation like the Meryton town ball to see the change in his social character. When he returns with Bingley to Netherfield he is once again cold and difficult to read, so he hasn’t suddenly developed an ability to recommend himself to those outside his usual social circle. (Admittedly he has to listen to Mrs. Bennet’s thinly-veiled insults.) The easy manner he has with the Gardiners is displayed, of course, from the comfort of Pemberley, his own estate. In other words, some of the change in Darcy is in fact a change in the context in which he is seen by Elizabeth. The transformation is not, I think, as abrupt and extreme as critics have argued.

Nevertheless, actors playing Darcy have had to display both sides of his character while retaining Mr Darcy’s basic believability. In the 1980 BBC Pride and Prejudice series, David Rintoul’s Darcy never completely sheds his aloofness. When he greets the Gardiners at Pemberley he is friendly but retains his seriousness and something of his offish-manner. His love for Elizabeth has of course transformed him, but he remains the stiff English gentleman, rather than suddenly inhabiting the body of an overly tactile Californian therapist.

The BBC’s 1995 Pride and Prejudice series approaches Darcy in a more radical manner. Through Colin Firth’s characterization we are shown his transformation. Andrew Davies said that, in Jane Austen’s novel, we never find out much about the men, and he wanted to rectify this by exploring the male characters, most obviously Mr Darcy. Darcy’s emotional struggle is actualized physically, rather than through dialog (except for the iconic ‘I shall conquer this. I shall!’ after his fencing session.) His change isn’t minimized in the name of believability, but presented starkly and explicitly, as painful and violent.

The 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie is in a sense the opposite of the 1980 TV series. Matthew Macfadyen’s Darcy, from the first scene, appears uncomfortable and rather vulnerable. His co-star Keira Knightley said ‘on the page, Darcy reads as being very cold, but Matthew is so vulnerable through his big manliness that he gives Darcy extra qualities.’ Socially awkward and snappy with Bingley at the town ball, rather than obviously superior and cold, it is obvious from the beginning that we are not seeing the gentleman at his best. Condensing Pride and Prejudice into a single movie of course requires compromises, and the choice here appears to have been to present Darcy as a more-than-meets-the-eye character from the start.

This is, in any case, how these matters appear to me. All dispositions tend to a particular evil and mine – I confess – is to give my opinion a little too decidedly at times. Hearing others analyze Darcy is, to many, like listening to someone reviewing your kids and them giving them a score, so feel free to disagree most ardently with my account!

The Production

Firstly, the series looks like a typical BBC costume drama from the time; it has a studio-bound feel betrayed by – amongst other things – strong shadows from the TV lighting that are sometimes difficult to ignore. You can also see the actors sweating under the lights which is something that younger viewers won’t be accustomed to. The costumes also look like costumes, and there are a few ‘80s perms that also distract from the show’s immersion. However, all of this is to be expected since the show came long before the global Jane Austen revival; this was therefore not a series which pushed the envelope in terms of its production – in budgetary terms it was ‘just another’ costume drama. It does not look poor by the standards of the day, yet it inevitably suffers next to the plushness of the 1995 and 2005 productions.

The Script

The 1980 Pride and Prejudice dramatization has a reputation for faithfulness to the text that it partially deserves. There are a few wholly new scenes – including a few frankly embarrassing attempts at slapstick humour featuring Mr. Collins, and some extra scenes involving Charlotte Lucas – but these are thankfully few. The script, written by novelist Fay Weldon, uses the original dialog well and, with varying success, attempts to weave some of Austen’s direct authorial comment into lines of dialog. Occasionally, these moments come across as patronizing, particularly in the characters’ internal monologs. It sometimes appears that the director lacks some confidence in his actors’ abilities to convey emotion non-verbally, and so regularly resorts to voice-overs. Overall, however, there is little in the script to complain about for purists, which perhaps explains the popularity of this dramatization with devoted readers of the book.

One exception is in the extra scenes between Elizabeth and Charlotte, in which the pair make fun of Mr. Collins, Charlotte’s new husband, and are gently mocking of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. This, I think, is a pity, since Charlotte’s staunch loyalty – and Elizabeth’s reaction – are incredibly interesting, both in the novel and as a possibility for dramatic expansion. This is the point of the series at which there are also some truly terrible attempts at comedy. Lady Catherine insists that Mr. Collins wears a hat with an air pocket in the top when he is near the river – in case he falls in. The joke wasn’t funny in the first scene it’s mentioned, and coupled with the cringe-making “comedy” tuba (or is it a clarinet?) music, it’s even less funny when the hat is demonstrated for us later.

The Cast and Performances

Elizabeth Garvie as Elizabeth Bennet

Elizabeth Garvie’s Elizabeth Bennet is the highlight of this Pride and Prejudice adaptation. Jane Austen wrote her character with, in her own words, ‘a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody,’ and this would certainly describe Garvie’s interpretation. She delivers her confrontational lines with Mr. Darcy with unfailing charm and a hint of vulnerability. She never appears aggressive with her wit; she is simply capable of holding her own against Darcy, Caroline Bingley, Mrs. Hurst and even Lady Catherine – her supposed superiors. Later, while chatting and walking with Mr. Wickham, her new ‘brother,’ she remains calm and seemingly unvengeful. It is instructive to compare her delivery of Elizabeth’s line over the piano to Darcy, ‘You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy…?’ with Jennifer Ehle’s in the 1995 dramatization. Ehle is direct; her delivery suggests she seeks to embarrass or expose him. Garvie instead draws sympathy from the viewer and also Mr. Darcy himself, compelling him through his conscience to answer in the negative.

David Rintoul’s Mr. Darcy

Rintoul’s Darcy lacks the magnetism of Colin Firth’s and the broodiness of Matthew Macfayden’s, yet plays the role with a greater consistency, and through this perhaps enhances the plausibility of his character. In his first appearance in the town ball his manner is poker-faced and cold rather than angrily contemptuous of the society in which he finds himself. Later, when meeting Lizzy and the Gardiners at Pemberley, he retains a stiffness in his posture and slightly awkward manner. We are left to reinterpret his mannerisms in light of the housekeeper’s account of his character – as well as his own kind words and generous offers to the Gardiners – rather than faced with an obvious external transformation in the style of Firth or Macfayden. Reducing the contrast, however, may add plausibility but certainly reduces the emotional impact of this scene.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (Moray Watson and Priscilla Morgan)

Oddly for an adaptation famed for its proximity to the book, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s characters have been radically reinterpreted. Watson’s Mr. Bennet’s ‘quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice’ are coupled with a raging temper and manner which borders on the despotic. In the little scene from the book in which Kitty’s ill-timed coughs are discussed, Mr. Bennet interrogates and embarrasses Mary with a casual meanness, which difficult to draw from character in the source text.　Without the anything-for-a-quiet-life attitude that we associate with Mr. Bennet, his decision to allow Lydia to visit Brighton to escape her whining and complaining seems rather unlikely. Mr. Bennet is also deprived of his emotional and redemptive final scene with Lizzy, which is given such prominence in the 1995 TV and 2005 movie adaptations.

Mrs. Bennet, played by Priscilla Morgan, is interpreted very sympathetically in comparison. She instills into the role an intelligence that Austen certainly didn’t intend for her (she is, remember of a ‘mean understanding’ and ‘illiberal mind’) but the interpretation is still provocative and interesting. When Mrs. Bennet expresses that she hopes that Jane dies of a broken heart in order to teach Mr. Bingley a lesson, she delivers the line with a knowing smile, shared by her sister. In other adaptations, this comment comes across as idiotic and wholly inappropriate. Her manner in general is far from caricature; she has little of the shrillness that renders her so ridiculous in later adaptations.

Also of note are Malcolm Rennie as Mr. Collins and Tessa Peake-Jones as Mary. While obviously nothing close to ‘five and twenty’ years old, Rennie’s Mr. Collins is physically a ‘tall, heavy-looking young man,’ which is closer to Jane Austen’s design than in either the 1995 or 2005 adaptations. He does a fantastic job of conveying Collins’ social incompetence and physical awkwardness. It’s a pity that in many of his scenes, BBC stock music is used to inform viewers when there’s something funny happening. It should be obvious, but unfortunately it often isn’t. However, the blame cannot be laid at Rennie’s door; his Mr. Collins is spot-on. Mary is a much more important character in this version, with Tessa Peake-Jones (now famous in the UK as Raquel in Only Fools and Horses) playing her with such sweetness that she steals many of her scenes – such as stint on the piano at the Netherfield ball.

In conclusion, with only minor deviations from the original story it is not difficult to see why Pride and Prejudice (1980) is a favorite of Austen purists. It’s studio-bound stiffness gives it the feel of a televised stage play, which also contributes to its charm for those looking for a more genteel, slow-paced interpretation. For this very reason, however, it suffers from a lack of those powerful moments that made the 1995 series such a hit; there are no smoldering looks over the piano, no breathtaking shots of Pemberley and no real fire to any of the central relationships. Garvie is a wonderful Elizabeth Bennet and remains this adaptations greatest asset.

I hope you found this review useful. Please feel free to agree most ardently or differ most fervently below!

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