It is a truth universally acknowledged that not all Jane Austen adaptations are created equal. But this fact hasn’t stopped a cycle of new adaptations from dominating our screens every few years and captivating our attention each and every time. Both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ versions share equal success in revitalising discussions on what constitutes accurate representations of women, relationships, historicity, and above all, the nuanced social commentary at the heart of all of Austen’s novels. Butchered adaptations will not only find themselves sentenced to the depths of IMDb, but also condemned for the indignance it strikes in the heart of every ‘Janeite’ for its contribution towards a pervasive media culture that so often fails to present women and romance with multifaceted depth. A ‘good’ adaptation inspires quite the opposite reaction, with fans often planting it firmly on an immovable pedestal, second only to Austen’s writing itself.
Two new adaptations of Austen’s novels are due to be released this year alone – Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice – and in doing so, both are inevitably placing themselves on the chopping block of opinion, where every minutia is scrutinised and compared, and any creative liberties taken are examined in microscopic detail. Netflix has declared that every generation deserves its own adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. Regardless of whether you agree with this statement, what can be said with certainty is that, in filming a new version of an Austen novel, the final form shoulders the significant responsibility of shaping, at least in part, the contemporary perspective of such classic works.
So what does constitute a good Austen adaptation? Is it one that lingers dreamily in the collective memory, its tendrils shaping Pinterest boards and helping romanticise the Regency era? Or does a more successful adaptation try to shed its source material, using its skeleton to instead tailor the content to modern audiences? To answer in short, an Austen adaptation should aim to be as timeless and enduring as the novels themselves.
In the check-box for good Austen adaptations, a realistic and genuine portrayal of female characters must come top of the list. Each of Austen’s novels centres primarily around their female protagonists, with some even being eponymous, such as Emma or Lady Susan. Although now a much beloved character, Austen famously wrote that Emma would be a heroine “whom no one but myself will much like”, anticipating the reception of Emma’s most explicit flaw: vanity. But it is this degree of verisimilitude that should be translated on screen, since these female characters are intentionally imperfect, designed to hold a mirror up to their audience. Romola Garai’s portrayal of Emma Woodhouse in Emma (2009) convincingly embraces the character’s penchant for snobbery, self-importance, and meddling, whilst also highlighting her intelligence and growing self-awareness. Likewise, Kate Winslet’s portrayal of Marianne Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility (1995) captures her headstrong naivety, without compromising her playful and amusing character.
Appropriate on-screen dialogue is integral to the success of any period piece, whether it’s the accent, delivery, colloquialisms, or the words themselves. Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth Bennet and Anna Chancellor as Caroline Bingley in Pride and Prejudice (1995) both diligently balance the witticisms, humour, and carefully barbed jabs peppered throughout Austen’s novel. Ehle delivers the quick-witted back-and-forth between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy (Colin Firth) with playful yet biting precision, capturing the evocative tension in the dialogue that emanates from the page itself in the novel. Chancellor embodies the highly-strung, sharp-tongued Miss Bingley, with her arched eyebrows and tense posture constantly reminiscent of a predator stalking its prey.
On the opposite end of this spectrum, however, is Persuasion (2022), which failed to win the hearts of its audience. Listening to Dakota Johnson’s Anne Elliot describe, in a slightly jilting ‘English’ accent, how she and Wentworth are “worse than exes – we’re friends” in an awkward attempt to break the fourth wall, feels jarring, to say the least. The vocabulary of this Anne Elliot is littered with weird anachronisms, which are exacerbated by her oddly forced habits of drinking alone and stroking her random pet rabbit. In attempting to create a ‘wine-drunk-girlboss-cool aunt’ out of Anne, Cracknell obscures the intelligence and emotional depth Austen equipped her with. So it could only be through Anne Elliot that Austen could voice such social commentary: “Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands.”
Yet the blatant 21st-century vernacular in Persuasion (2022) begs the question – does modernising these historical storylines make the audience lose touch with the original material, and to what extent? There seems to be an implicit assumption that the modern audience would not be able to meaningfully comprehend or engage with the notions of 18th-century society, and certainly not its phraseology. So do these novels need to be adapted or abridged to remain relevant or accessible to a contemporary audience? The respective success of both Clueless (1995) and Emma (2020) might answer this for us. Both films are based on the original novel, yet interact with their source material in entirely opposite yet highly engaging ways. By retaining the core plot of a well-intentioned but ultimately misguided and meddling matchmaker, but adapting the setting, characters, dialogue, and costumes entirely to the era in which it is set, both films convincingly tap into the timeless themes of girlhood and personal growth.
However, the appeal of Austen in TV and film isn’t just restricted to the canonical sphere. Spin-offs of Austen’s works have been flooding our screens for decades, with the greatest source of inspiration for these adaptations being Pride and Prejudice. From Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016) to Death Comes to Pemberley (2013), and most recently The Other Bennet Sister (2026), the captivating and enduring ingenuity of Austen’s novels lends itself well to reinvention time and time again. Much like Clueless (1995) – and very unlike Persuasion (2022) – these Austen-adjacent adaptations demonstrate that modern creativity in a historical context can certainly thrive.
Although these aspects are not a guaranteed recipe for success, the realistic portrayals of female characters, appropriate dialogue, and believable historicity, are, in my opinion at least, the fundamentals for a ‘good’ Austen adaptation. Even if you disagree, the continuous remaking of Austen novels suggests our appetite to be enthralled or appalled by the many different renditions remains as insatiable as ever. After all, it has been over 80 years now since the first major adaptation of Pride and Prejudice in 1940, and we’re still waiting for the next.
