Can Netflix's 'Pride and Prejudice' Succeed?

Thoughts about adapting Jane Austen's classic for the streaming algorithm

Keira Knightley in Pride and Prejudice (2005).

There are some beloved heroines that you just don’t want to mess with — and Elizabeth “Lizzy” Bennet is one of them.

When I saw the news that Netflix is developing a series based on Pride and Prejudice, my first instinct was to start a petition begging the streamer not to tarnish the honor of the Jane Austen classic and its cast of characters, notably Lizzy and Mr Darcy. (Instead, I quietly stewed and then wrote this newsletter.)

The last time Netflix dared to adapt Austen, the project backfired. In 2022, it revived Persuasion for the screen and cast Dakota Johnson as Anne Elliot, the 1817 novel’s protagonist, a black sheep in a world consumed by wealth and status. Austen once wrote teasingly of Persuasion, pre-publication, in a letter to her niece Fanny Knight, musing, “You may perhaps like the heroine, as she is almost too good for me.”

The recent Persuasion movie drew plenty of negative criticism, in part because director Carrie Cracknell decided to inject a Regency-era production with contemporary quirks. Johnson controversially broke the fourth wall, Fleabag-style, and glanced at the camera wryly while speaking with an inconsistent British accent. That said! I did appreciate the ambition of trying something new and different from previous Anne-centric adaptations. For me, Cracknell’s experiment recalled, much less successfully, how Sofia Coppola modernized her biopic Marie Antoinette, outfitting courtiers in Converse sneakers. (Cue the outrage.)

However, Cracknell made a fatal error when she cast Cosmo Jarvis to play Johnson’s love interest, Frederick Wentworth, a hot ship’s captain. Sadly, Johnson and Jarvis had absolutely no chemistry. Zilch! Zero! If you’re filming a romance, and the couple at the center fail to produce sparks, then the whole thing falls apart.

And so, the success of Pride and Prejudice (Netflix’s version) will largely hinge upon the choices of whomever is in charge of casting Lizzy and Darcy. And that person should be me. But while I wait for an offer letter, let’s acknowledge what the upcoming P&P has working in its favor. According to Variety, novelist Dolly Alderton has written scripts for a show that Netflix still needs to green-light. I would advise the Powers That Be to push that button ASAP because Alderton is exactly who they need behind the scenes. She’s a sharp, witty writer whose work explores present-day relationships in all their complexity. She’s from London and understands the esoteric class and social hierarchies that fueled the action — and raised the stakes — in Austen’s novels.

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A post shared by @dollyalderton

Did Alderton pen a traditional corset tribute to England’s literary queen? Or drop Lizzy into the year of our lord 2024? It remains to be seen, but given the chatter online, Austen fans seem starved for a full-fledged period spectacle. Think romantic pastoral backdrops and costumes. (Oh, and a pianoforte.)

If Alderton and Netflix intend to take it back to the early 19th century, then they should revisit the greats for inspiration. I’m talking about the other brave souls who took on Pride and Prejudice and managed to update a timeless yet familiar story with lush, sexy visuals and unforgettable performances.

Nearly 30 years ago, the BBC changed the game with its wildly popular Pride and Prejudice miniseries co-starring Jennifer Ehle (Lizzy) and Colin Firth (Darcy). Producers Sue Birtwistle and Andrew Davies vowed to spice things up and break from the “unpoetic” stodginess of past TV revivals. The tabloids clutched their pearls, with one headline declaring “SEX ROMP JANE AUSTEN.” Responded Davies, “Sex is the engine of the plot in Pride and Prejudice. Darcy finds himself sexually attracted to Elizabeth before he even knows her. When he does get to know her, he doesn’t like her, but he still can’t keep away from her.”

The results captivated BBC viewers, who swooned over the sight of Firth emerging from a pond swim looking like an erotic pirate:

As for Ehle (then Firth’s real-life girlfriend), she projected all the wit and charm that Austen instilled in Lizzy, whom the author had described as “delightful a creature as ever appeared in print.”

Still, she was not the best to ever do it.

That distinction belongs to Keira Knightley, the Greatest Lizzy of All Time, a.k.a. The GLOAT.

Circa 2004, the British studio Working Title Productions hired Joe Wright, who had previously directed TV serials and music videos, to helm the first major Pride and Prejudice retelling in a decade. Its producers tasked the 32-year-old with re-centering Lizzy in the storyline and de-emphasizing Darcy. Wright saw Lizzy as a “difficult,” strong-willed woman. She didn’t want a quiet life but an interesting one. She craved a real love connection, not an arranged union of convenience. She declined to settle for less, even if that meant she’d become a spinster, a Regency woman’s worst fate rather than a stance to admire. Pride and Prejudice consumed Wright’s waking hours. Casting was key. He ruled out actresses who resembled “Elizabeth,” who seemed too perfect (how boring). He wanted to find a “Lizzy.” Who could that be, and where was she hiding?

Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen.

In plain sight: At 19 years old, Knightley was one of Britain’s brightest young stars. The London-born daughter of actors had experienced her first taste of fame starring in the teen football comedy Bend It Like Beckham. She exuded a gamine glamour and was beautiful but did not appear airbrushed and filtered through the male gaze, like so many other starlets borne of the early 2000s. She seemed the sort of free spirit who’d throw on a Chanel dress for a glitzy party and then dash through a mud puddle, paying no mind to the dirt in her skirt — and making a messy hem look seriously chic. All told, Wright, a sucker for authenticity, had not envisioned his Lizzy being so conventionally pretty. Ultimately, he discovered that Lizzy lived within Knightley, who shared the character’s lively humor. Lucky for them, she was a known entity, which meant they could cast the obscure Matthew Macfadyen as her twin flame.

“When I went in to read with Matthew, I was so blown away that I virtually couldn’t get my lines out,” Knightley has said. “I just kept staring at him, thinking, ‘What the hell happened between you walking in as Matthew and you starting to read?’ Because he actually did turn into Darcy. On the page, Darcy reads as being very cold, but Matthew is so vulnerable through his big manliness that he gives Darcy extra qualities.”

In person, Macfadyen was funny and lighthearted, with a full-bodied laugh. Opposite Knightley, he turned up the gloom, tapping into Darcy’s shyness and yearning for Lizzy. He had excellent comic timing and large, expressive features that softened the brittle edges of his alter ego and conveyed what Darcy, outwardly stoic and withdrawn, lacked the courage to say out loud. You can’t teach a man’s man how to be emotionally available, and how to be sensitive. You can’t bottle chemistry, either. Combined, Macfadyen and Knightley set off fireworks, his sincerity sparking with hers. He conjured romantic lust that caught her off-guard. Macfadyen, like Darcy, contained multitudes.

“Matthew’s sexy in the mode of Richard Burton, with a bit of Alan Rickman,” Knightley once gushed. “You need to see that kind of rugged beauty in Darcy, knowing that here is a man who walks across fields, climbs trees and manages his own estate. With Matthew, you can see that etched across his face, yet he’s also got this extraordinary vulnerability.”

To a hardcore Austen devotee, his wild emotion had no place in buttoned-up Austenland. Indeed, Wright’s vision for Darcy veered closer to a Brontë anti-hero than a mannered gentleman of the manor born. But Macfadyen seemed to understand the assignment. He aced his test and awed the teacher, even if he thought he was all wrong for the part:

It was apparent that Macfadyen had a tight lock on Darcy, at least the one that Wright wanted; in the brief period where they read together, he had managed to make Knightley forget about Colin Firth and the BBC.

The actress, for her part, re-read Pride and Prejudice and experienced Lizzy with fresh eyes. She admired her passion and intelligence, and singled out the flaws that made her human. Sometimes, Knightley observed, “she is so annoying and you want to kick her up the ass and tell her to sort it out.” Other times, “you can imagine her going into a room and being slightly nervous about it and thinking, ‘I feel really stupid right now.’”

You heard it here first: No Netflix adaptation should go forward without finding first-rate performers who are willing to put their hearts and reputations on the line to do Austen justice. Who respect the source material but are willing to take creative risks. Who seem to like each other on and off the screen. Who don’t seem like bland Instagram models designed in a lab to game the algorithm!

Anyway. Last week, the Daily Mail reported that Daisy Edgar-Jones was mulling the Lizzy role. I arched a proverbial eyebrow. Can she do comedy? I saw the Twister star as Lizzy’s sweet, virtuous older sister, Jane, but not Lizzy or even Mary Bennet, who’s getting her own well-deserved spinoff on the BBC.

Then over the weekend, a Threads user named Emilee — she’s a “Textile witch” and “meme queen,” her bio reads — went viral for posting the following: “Until Dev Patel plays Mr Darcy we’ll never have enough Jane Austen Pride & Prejudice adaptations.”

The replies came fast and furious.

“Alright! Great! Just having a normal day and now I have Dev Patel in period costuming running through my head,” one person wrote, while another remarked, “I never knew how much I needed this till exactly now.”

Reading Emilee’s Thread inspired one woman to respond as though Patel had just walked out of a pond, sopping wet and ready to flirt.

“Gasp,” she replied, adding, “fans self.”

Dev Patel in The Personal History of David Copperfield (2020). Kind of a weird pic, but look at that hair!

Now, I can picture Patel at Pemberley. A thousand percent. And I actually believe that he and Edgar-Jones would generate some major heat.

But casting the right Lizzy is, alas, a challenge! Any ideas thereof? Please share your Darcy picks too!

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END CREDITS

• I had a FUN conversation with author and cultural critic Becca Freeman for her Book Enthusiast newsletter, which I always have to read the minute it hits my inbox. We talked about Adam Brody, the charming new rom-dram We Live in Time and I confessed that I have never read a book by Colleen Hoover. Thank you, Becca, and welcome new subscribers!!!

• I finally caved and acquired these Zimmermann leopard tights that I’ve had my eye on. I have no regrets.

• Speaking of leopard, The Cereal Aisle dedicated a cool style roundup to the perennial print. And as we head into winter, Ali LaBelle has curated a cozy list of all things plaid.

• On The Ministry of Pop Culture: Sex and the City writer Cindy Chupack explains how she would script the 2024 election and Thea Glassman unlocks “The Secrets to a ‘Gilmore Girls’ Fall.”

Warmly,

Erin