John Powers

There she meets, you guessed it, a grumpy, attractive man with whom she doesn't get along. His name is Oliver, and he's played by Charlie Anson, an actor who's like the housebrand version of Hugh Grant. We sense that they're destined for each other, even as we wonder whether she's better suited to Felix, with whom she shared an unexpectedly passionate kiss as she left for England.

Here, a god has just arrived in Britain, and Oliver is driving her to the retreat. Almost instantly, they're at loggerheads.

Here, a god has just arrived in Britain, and Oliver is driving her to the retreat. Almost instantly, they're at loggerheads.

Here, a god has just arrived in Britain, and Oliver is driving her to the retreat. Almost instantly, they're at loggerheads.

Poor Oliver doesn't seem to grasp that he's playing the role of Mr. Darcy. In fact, Austen is rightly admired and beloved for creating enduringly memorable heroines who were strong, smart, principled, often witty and willful. They have character. Even when they're wrongheaded, they're never trivial, especially about romance.

Poor Oliver doesn't seem to grasp that he's playing the role of Mr. Darcy. In fact, Austen is rightly admired and beloved for creating enduringly memorable heroines who were strong, smart, principled, often witty and willful. They have character. Even when they're wrongheaded, they're never trivial, especially about romance.

Poor Oliver doesn't seem to grasp that he's playing the role of Mr. Darcy. In fact, Austen is rightly admired and beloved for creating enduringly memorable heroines who were strong, smart, principled, often witty and willful. They have character. Even when they're wrongheaded, they're never trivial, especially about romance.

You see, in Austen's world, a woman's freedom to act was profoundly constrained. The choice of a man was a decision not just about chemistry, but financial security and social status. Indeed, Austen portrays the society that limits her heroines with X-ray eyes, showing us the greed, vanity, and class snobbery of a rigid social order where only a few live in comfort.

You see, in Austen's world, a woman's freedom to act was profoundly constrained. The choice of a man was a decision not just about chemistry, but financial security and social status. Indeed, Austen portrays the society that limits her heroines with X-ray eyes, showing us the greed, vanity, and class snobbery of a rigid social order where only a few live in comfort.

You see, in Austen's world, a woman's freedom to act was profoundly constrained. The choice of a man was a decision not just about chemistry, but financial security and social status. Indeed, Austen portrays the society that limits her heroines with X-ray eyes, showing us the greed, vanity, and class snobbery of a rigid social order where only a few live in comfort.

And Austen's consciousness is a thrillingly powerful presence. She writes like the most dazzling of her own creations, with immaculately wrought sentences, a stinging satirical eye, and a sense of judgment that can be positively ruthless. There's nothing vague or wishy-washy about her.

And Austen's consciousness is a thrillingly powerful presence. She writes like the most dazzling of her own creations, with immaculately wrought sentences, a stinging satirical eye, and a sense of judgment that can be positively ruthless. There's nothing vague or wishy-washy about her.

And Austen's consciousness is a thrillingly powerful presence. She writes like the most dazzling of her own creations, with immaculately wrought sentences, a stinging satirical eye, and a sense of judgment that can be positively ruthless. There's nothing vague or wishy-washy about her.

The risk in explicitly evoking Austen is that it instantly raises our standards, and sadly Piani, like nearly all of today's Austenites, can't match her model's clarity or élan. Her movie is tamer and more sentimental, and utterly unconcerned with society.

The risk in explicitly evoking Austen is that it instantly raises our standards, and sadly Piani, like nearly all of today's Austenites, can't match her model's clarity or élan. Her movie is tamer and more sentimental, and utterly unconcerned with society.

The risk in explicitly evoking Austen is that it instantly raises our standards, and sadly Piani, like nearly all of today's Austenites, can't match her model's clarity or élan. Her movie is tamer and more sentimental, and utterly unconcerned with society.

In Agathe, Piani replaces the brilliance and verve of Elizabeth Bennet or Emma Woodhouse with low-key neurosis, as if afraid we wouldn't like a modern woman who's sharp or sometimes unlikable. You keep waiting for Agathe to act boldly, or at least say something genuinely witty. The movie is weighed down by all its illusions and borrowings, which become a substitute for creating something new.

In Agathe, Piani replaces the brilliance and verve of Elizabeth Bennet or Emma Woodhouse with low-key neurosis, as if afraid we wouldn't like a modern woman who's sharp or sometimes unlikable. You keep waiting for Agathe to act boldly, or at least say something genuinely witty. The movie is weighed down by all its illusions and borrowings, which become a substitute for creating something new.

In Agathe, Piani replaces the brilliance and verve of Elizabeth Bennet or Emma Woodhouse with low-key neurosis, as if afraid we wouldn't like a modern woman who's sharp or sometimes unlikable. You keep waiting for Agathe to act boldly, or at least say something genuinely witty. The movie is weighed down by all its illusions and borrowings, which become a substitute for creating something new.

Doing this is hardly impossible. Hollywood worked Austin Territory marvelously during the 30s and 40s. Check out The Shop Around the Corner or The Philadelphia Story. While over in post-war France, Eric Romer made a score of sharp movies about romantic desire and illusion, without ever needing to resurrect Mr. Darcy for one last bout of pride and prejudice.