'Persuasion' review: Dakota Johnson makes a weird tweak for a 'Fleabag'-style Jane Austen adaptation

Jane Austen completed the manuscript of "Persuasion" in 1816, the year before her death. But even then, over 200 years ago, she anticipated the conversation Hollywood is having today, putting these words in Captain Harville's mouth: "I don't think I've ever opened a book in my life that didn't have nothing to say about the inconstancy of the woman. Songs and proverbs all speak of the fickleness of women. But perhaps you will tell me that all this was written by men. »

Anne Elliot – brilliant, heartbroken and, at the ripe old age of 28, facing the risk of becoming celibate for life – naturally agrees, not to the Harville point that it is in the nature of the woman (more than that of the man) to forget those she loved before, but to the fact that "the pen was in their hands", and therefore, the history of literature betrays a sexist prejudice. Two centuries later, the world is still struggling to achieve that balance, and no studio seems more determined than Netflix to give women a chance to control their narrative.

While original works are welcome, Austen makes an obvious choice for female directors to adapt (certainly more than "Dangerous Liaisons," which gets a "Clueless"-y contemporary makeover from the streamer this week as well ). 'Persuasion' is a good choice of material to work from, but British director Carrie Cracknell went and did a strange thing with the book: she tried to modernize it, borrowing heavily from 'Fleabag' (with her fourth wall-breaking gadgets) and "Emma". (in all its symmetrical, Wes Anderson-indebted cuteness), while playing a free-spirited, fully liberated American star, Dakota Johnson, as Anne - which strips the novel of its core tension. p>

You see, "Persuasion" is a curious romance in that, for contemporary audiences, nothing really separates its two lovers. Not anymore, at least. A few years ago, Wentworth - "a sailor without rank or fortune", played by the handsome Cosmo Jarvis ("Lady Macbeth") - proposed to Anne, and she accepted, but her aristocratic family disapproved of the union, and she was persuaded to break off the engagement. Step forward to the present (Austen's present, that is, 1816), and the situation is changing.

Anne's shamelessly conceited father, Sir Walter (a conceited booed Richard E. Grant), is to rent the family estate, Kellynch Hall, reintroducing the man for whom Anne's heart still beats into their circle - only now, Wentworth is an officer of sufficient fortune to deserve his hand. Some shades of class and social station always stand in their way, but few of the Netflix movie viewers will appreciate such obstacles. (But will they prefer the modern flourishes, like the "playlist" of sheet music Wentworth created for her, or his labeling of younger sister Mary as a "total narcissist"?)

For Cracknell's purposes, the problem is that neither character is sure the other still feels the love they once shared, and so we wait the 100 minutes it takes for them to profess their feelings and pursue the marriage that ties all of Austen's books together perfectly. With this novel, however, she made it clear that English marriages in the Georgian era were not about feelings; they were social contracts designed to consolidate a family's wealth and position. When emotion and benefit align, however, where is the conflict?

Sharing the credit (although only one is likely responsible for that choice), screenwriters Alice Victoria Winslow and Ron Bass turn their heroine into something very different from what Austen portrayed - or what the previous screen adaptations imagined (she was played painfully understated by Sally Hawkins and Amanda Root in the UK TV versions of 1995 and 2007).

In Austen's words, "Anne Elliot was a very pretty girl, but her bloom faded early." She's now "wilted and thin," the most docile of Walter's daughters, while Johnson seems to be at the peak of her powers (she simultaneously stars as a MILF in "Cha Cha Real Smooth" on Apple TV+). Nothing against the very gifted Johnson, but she is not the right actress for this role, and she was completely wrong.

Cracknell approaches the project with confidence and a clear vision (if clearly derived). Her compositions are striking and sometimes romantic, although she has a curious idea of ​​Anne Elliot: she loves her wine, downing glasses of red; she wears a pet rabbit as a prop and depressingly mocks the pastel wall settings and ugly oil paintings in ornate gold frames. In the novel, Anne's soft-spoken sense of propriety prolongs her misery, whereas here she is sharp, unfiltered storytelling...