For fun and romance, ‘Jane Austen’ has write stuff
Jane Austen famously wrote, “My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” That passage from “Pride and Prejudice,” spoken by the dreamy Mr. Darcy to a swooning Elizabeth Bennet, is the keynote of the delightful “Jane Austen Wrecked My Life.” Rookie director Laura Piani even incorporates it into her script chronicling the fumbling romantic machinations of her heroine, Agathe Robinson, an aspiring writer longing to live an Austenesque life, complete with her own Mr. Darcy.
Good luck with that, especially in this day and age when novels and noble gentlemen seem a thing of the past. But the past is where Agathe – tall, winsome and most assuredly unsure – seeks to reside, centuries away from the age of cell phones, hookups and dating apps. She craves “real” love as much as she longs to write about it. But how can she write what she knows if, when it comes to affairs of the heart, she knows nothing?
That’s her quandary as the Parisian checks in as the newest invitee to the Jane Austen Writers’ Residency in the bucolic English countryside. She earned the spot based on the merits of a few chapters she’s penned about a fiery affair between a young woman and the image of a man she spies at the bottom of a sake cup. Typical of Agathe, played to perfection by willowy Camille Rutherford from “Anatomy of a Fall,” she lacks the driving force to finish it. In fact, it was never her idea to seek entrée into the program. Her best friend and co-worker at Paris’ famed Shakespeare and Company bookstore, Félix (Pablo Pauly), submitted her writing sample. But here she is, feeling like a fraud, rubbing elbows with “real” writers.
Worse, she repeatedly makes an ass out of herself around Oliver (Charlie Anson), the seemingly humorless, Hugh Grant-ish offspring of the estate’s owners, Todd (Alan Fairbairn) and Olympia (Lola Peploe). At one point, she unwittingly strolls naked into his room, mistaking it for the loo. He’s a bit of a stiff, but she’s intrigued, enough to cause her to question her recent commitment to Félix, the braggadocio lothario whom she impulsively and passionately kissed before departing for England. Was the snog the culmination of a long simmer or merely an act of desperation by a woman who’s been involuntarily celibate for two years? She can’t decide, and only grows more confused after Félix ignores her calls and texts.
Thus, the stage is set, and Piani delights in exploiting Agathe’s indecision and doubt while slyly lambasting the unattainable ideal of love and wealth central to Austen’s works. Abetted by director of photography Pierre Mazoyer, Piani envelopes Agathe in luxuriance, be it the stately manor or the gorgeous woods she walks in hopes of conquering her severe case of writer’s block. Of course, these strolls often involve awkward and unexpected encounters with Darcy, err Oliver, who just happens to be the great, great, great grandnephew of Miss Austen. Ironically, he hates the sentimental disposition of his ancestor’s oeuvre.
Standing in contrast to his stuffiness is the rakish charm of Félix. Agathe is well aware of his serial womanizing, but finds herself increasingly drawn to her best friend. Is he the one, and might she be able to curb his debauchery? In true Austen fashion, Piani steadily builds upon the concept of a woman acknowledging her self-worth after years of falsely believing only love can beget happiness. And, like Austen, she throws up plenty of obstacles on Agathe’s road to discovering her true nature and exactly what she wants after so long secluding herself.
Her trauma is deep, resulting from the experience of surviving the car accident that killed her parents. She’s racked by guilt and grief. It’s the albatross she cannot shake. And it’s to the credit of Piani and Rutherford that they render her circumstances so relatable. We all have our crosses to bear, just like we all crave an elusive form of love that’s been proffered by the likes of Austen. The trick is finding the happy medium between romanticism and reality, which Agathe must do if she’s ever to become unstuck.
To enhance the experience, Piani fortifies her film with an abundance of quirky charm and traces of old-world elegance exemplified by the period costume ball that provides the film’s most Austen-tatious moment, as guests glide across the floor clad in 19th-century attire beautifully designed by Flore Vauvillé. It is during this Regency-themed soiree that Agathe’s tentative approach toward life comes to a head. Who will she choose? What will she choose?
You wait breathlessly for the answers. But you also lament its rushed pace. Nor am I a fan of how Piani plays senility for laughs, especially a recurring gag about a character parading in public sans trousers and undies. Not funny the first time, and not the last. But those are mere quibbles in what is otherwise a welcome return to a staple of old, the Euro rom-com. It’s very much a throwback, a retro-chic advancement of love’s ability to conquer all. Will today’s more cynical audiences buy in? One can hope. It’s no “Bridget Jones,” but it’s a reasonable facsimile, and one you’ll eagerly want to embrace.
Movie review
Jane Austen Wrecked My Life
Rated: R for some sexual content, nudity and language
Cast: Camille Rutherford, Charlie Anson, Pablo Pauly, Alan Fairbairn and Lola Peploe
Director: Laura Piani
Writer: Laura Piani
Runtime: 94 minutes
Where: In theaters May 23 (limited) before going wide May 30
Grade: B+
