Actually, Netflix‘s ‘Persuasion’ Is Good
The Scoop features personal essays on movie-centric topics.
By Vicki Rakowski
If I ask you for the name of a Jane Austen novel, you’re likely to tell me Pride and Prejudice. Maybe you’ll name Emma or Sense and Sensibility. You’re statistically less likely to choose Persuasion.
That’s sort of a shame. I deeply adore Pride and Prejudice—it’s a flute of Champagne Brut, fizzing and sparking on the tongue, letting you dash from intriguing plot point to plot point. Persuasion is a glass of silky, supple Pinot noir. Every sip begs you to understand something different about the thwarted love story of Anne Elliot and Captain Frederick Wentworth.
If you’re with me about this whole Pinot Noir thing, that’s good, because Anne Elliot in Netflix’s 2022 adaptation of Persuasion, starring Dakota Johnson and directed by Carrie Cracknell, is definitely a Wine Aunt.
Austen Meets Bridgerton
Are you an Austenite, or do you know one? I consider myself firmly in that camp. We are a rabid, protective group (I don’t know that we possess the level of commitment displayed by the Beyhive, but we’re not far off). Janeites tend to demand strict fidelity to the original text.
Persuasion, by modern definition, is not generally considered a comedy. It is probably one of the greatest, most bittersweet romances that will ever be written. But funny? No.
Enter Netflix.
Their 2022 adaptation of Austen’s 1817 novel capitalizes on the candy-colored version of Regency England made popular by Bridgerton. Dakota Johnson’s Anne Elliott possesses none of the stoic, gentle dignity of the novel’s Anne Elliott. She is often seen with a glass of alcohol in hand. She breaks the fourth wall to speak to the camera. She gets drunk and embarrasses herself rather frequently. Her aching and pining is not hidden at all. The script essentially creates a humorous modern overlay of language and thought processes on what is essentially a non-humorous 200-year-old love story.
This movie was universally hated by the majority of Janeites. If you want even a glimpse at our collective vitriol, a quick 5-minute scan of Reddit ought to do the trick.
Reckoning with the Jibber-Jabber
In the interest of full disclosure, Persuasion is my all-time favorite novel. I probably reread it twice a year. When I was in the hospital with my newborn daughter, I played the audiobook version for her as the November wind whistled, my husband slept, and she and I adjusted to the new reality of her life outside of my body.
We lay skin to skin in total exhaustion and listened to the story of the heartbroken, resilient, dignified Anne Elliott as her resentful, charismatic, dashing long-lost love Captain Wentworth re-enters her small world eight years after the dissolution of their short-lived but world-altering engagement. My baby was only two days old, but I wanted her to understand something of the beauty of this story, for these to be the first sentences she heard read aloud.
In other words, I am this story’s greatest defender, and I should have haaaaaaated the glib, modern tone of the Netflix version. I should have deeply disliked hearing a character refer to Captain Wentworth as being “everything”. I should have turned off the TV in rage when Anne gets too wasted to speak clearly at a family dinner. I should have rolled my eyes so hard they might have gotten stuck when Anne refers to “being seen” by Captain Wentworth. This is modern jibber-jabber!
The 1817 Version of ‘Being Seen’
However, as I watched the first 20 minutes with some amused incredulity, here is where this version got me on its side: Anne’s younger, self-absorbed sister, Mary, refers to herself as an “empath”. And herein lies the thing that makes Jane Austen’s work live even today: you must see yourself and the people you know in the characters.
When you first meet Mary in the novel, it is impossible to refrain from diagnosing her with a personality disorder. Tell me you don’t have somebody in your life who is the same—a coworker, an in-law, a distant friend. The 2022 cover of this story chooses to lean into modern slang, vernacular and sensibility, and in this way, it leans into what keeps Austen’s work relevant.
“What makes Jane Austen’s work live even today: you must see yourself and the people you know in the characters.”
We see ourselves and others all the time in Jane Austen’s work—our hopes, wishes, neuroses. It should be a comfort to know not much has changed about human nature in the past couple centuries.
If stoic resignation and noble suffering was part of a disappointed woman’s lot 200 years ago, then what is her lot today? For Dakota Johnson’s Anne, it is to have a good cry in the bath, and grin wryly at the camera when her absurdly narcissistic family dismisses her yet again. It is to make the best of things when she sees once and for all that Frederick Wentworth really isn’t coming back to her. It is to have another glass of red and take pleasure where she can.
In all versions of the story, hope isn’t really lost for Anne Elliott. Her fate winds up surprising her, and comforting the audience. It makes you wonder: what is the 1817 version of “being seen”? I believe that is the dream on which all of our romantic hopes have ever hung, in this century and pretty much all others.
Vicki Rakowski is an enthusiastic consumer of all things art and literature, and a library director in the Chicagoland area.