Mad Men: Are Don and Peggy the Dorothea and Lydgate of TV?

Two strong intelligent characters, male and female, who are intellectually gifted, determined to make something "more" of themselves, but would never be romantically linked because of their wrongheaded decisions when it comes to love and marriage.

There's little sexual tension between them, but they are the most compelling people in their world, and they live parallel lives. And you can't help but wonder: what could they have accomplished as a couple if they had met earlier and fallen in love?

I'm convinced that Peggy Olsen and Don Draper on "Mad Men" are like Dorothea Brooke and Tertius Lydgate in Middlemarch--characters whose union is close to impossible, but the possibility of which nonetheless hovers over all the goings-on in their world. Like George Eliot, Matthew Weiner critiques the idea of marriage as a social ideal rather than a down-to-earth partnership.

Of course Lydgate and Dodo want to change the world, while Don and Peggy just want to write some damn good copy, but on the other hand they do want to to change their world by infusing it with creative energy.

Thoughts?

Middlemarch Watch: Can Mendes do Eliot Justice?

So now that "Revolutionary Road" is over and done with and la la la, Sam Mendes' next project is slated to be a big screen adaptation of "Middlemarch" with Andrew Davies as screenwriter. As an obsessive fangirl of Dorothea Brooke-Causabon/Will Ladislaw love, I've decided to inaugurate a "Middlemarch watch" feature to track the progress, if there is any, on this film. George Eliot in Hollywood--it would definitely be a first!

Here is my inaugural find: a blogger called John at purple state of mind writes about the pros and cons of Mendes at the helm of the project. I pretty much agree with what he says; that Mendes' earlier projects are stagey and rather airless (I forgive my 16 year old self for being sooooo obsessed with "American Beauty" which I now see was not quite as deep as I thought). But, he notes that "Revolutionary Road" was a huge step up. I really liked Rev Road despite not wanting to. I thought the actors were electric though the screenplay was a bit pat.

And let's face it--Frank and April Wheeler ARE extremely similar characters to Rosamand Vincy and Tertius Lydgate in almost all ways, including weirdly parallel baby/no-baby plots and professional aspirations and well, everything. Anyway, here be John's thoughts:

---

So Mendes is getting better, and I’m inclined to see his decision to make Middlemarch as further evidence of growth. Much has been made of the fact that this British director is now taking on his first native project. He must sense the opportunity...

On the evidence of Revolutionary Road, I’m prepared to believe that he’s looking home for a reason. He may sense in Eliot a chance to work with the same ambition on more fertile ground. His movies demonstrate an unmistakable interest in the interplay between individual conscience and social imperative, whether the setting is American suburbia, the United States military or criminal enterprise. Middlemarch affords a classic framework for such concerns. In its massiveness, it could also be a trap for the director’s worst impulses. In the absence of a point of view with which to harness the material, prettiness would be the default position.

In other words, if Sam Mendes wanted to put himself to the ultimate test, he’s found it. No matter what he does, George Eliot’s reputation will remain intact. It’s an open question whether his will.

---

Up next will be a discussion of casting, which is already causing sparks to fly on the imdb board. Let's just say the anti-Kiera Knightley folks are out in full force. God bless them.

The New Top Six Hotties--Post 2002

[Previous installments of my "hotties" series: #15-11, 10-6, 5-1]

This is my list of period literary adaptations' most studly soulful leading men... since 2002. I had to jiggle the qualifying date to fit everyone in whom I desired, but I think it all works out.

Anyway, recall that this is a personal project and has no official significance whatsoever and thus no coherent rules:) Now ogle + debate away!

Oh, and conspicuoulsy absent are actors from 2007's adaptations of Persuasion and Mansfield Park. In such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable.

#1 Richard Armitage

Recognition of Richard Armitage's delightfully dark and smoldering John Thornton from the BBC's 2004 "North and South", was being clamored for most enthusiastically in the comments section of the previous post.* But my readers need not have feared--this performance utterly captured my heart and threw all of England into an afore-unknown craze called "Gaskell-Mania." Why was Armitage so amazing? He played the role with such repressed passion, and effected a moving transition from stern and forbidding mill-owner to humbler man touched by love's gentle hand, a transition that rivals the change underwent by Darcy in between"Not handsome enough to tempt me" and "dearest, loveliest Elizabeth." Seriously, to parrot commenter Laura E, if you haven't seen this mini-series, go out and rent it RIGHT NOW. It's television at its most extraordinary. I also loved the book.

#2 Toby Stephens

I got into a mini-quibble with a reader about the quality of Ciaran Hinds' interpretation of that memorable Byronic hero, Edward F. Rochester. But CH dispute aside, Toby Stephens truly transcended his pretty-boy looks to play a nearly-perfect Rochester in the 2006 adaptation of "Jane Eyre," an adaptation that truly gave one of the best novels ever written its due. Stephens neither gets Rochester off the hook for his domineering ways and the whole bigamy thing, nor does he render him too unsympathetic, and it's a very difficult line to walk. The emotional bond between Jane and R--the thread that goes from one heart to another--is truly present in this performance.

#3--JJ Feild As Mags always reminds us, it was unnecessary for the screenwriters of '07's "Northanger Abbey" to make Henry Tilney, one of the wittiest and quirkiest characters written, act "mean" towards poor Catherine Morland during one particular scene. But that's a screenwriting issue. As BethDunn points out in the comments, JJ pulls off the mix of clever one-liners, wry observations and occasional awkward proposing (in the hedgerow) that I think Austen would have been largely pleased with.


#4 Dan Stevens

So on the whole I didn't think the "2007 Sense and Sensibility" held up to Ang Lee's '95 big screen version, but one way it excelled its predecessor was Dan Stevens' Edward Ferrars. Basically, his performance kinda pwns Hugh Grant, previous awardee for the same role. His pain was deeper, his passion stronger, his awkwardness less painfully funny. And there was that chopping wood in the rain scene, which was no Darcy-in-the lake, but wasn't half bad either.


#5 Richard Harrington his Allan Woodcourt helps the poor in the slums even though there's no money in it, and he loves Esther Summerson even after she is horribly disfigured by some creepy Victorian disease I can't recall. Nuff said. ("Bleak House," 2006). Just look at that intensity! No wonder he won out over romantic rival Jarndyce.

#6 Hugh Dancy. (2002's "Daniel Deronda.") He's an extremely sensitive, soulful secret Jew, and he is being being fought over by the blonde, shallow (but trying hard not to be shallow) Gwendolyn Harleth and the beautiful, talented, pure Mirah. It's good to be the king. Dancy's performance anchors an adaptation of a very difficult work and makes Daniel's anguished position really come to life.

*(Thanks K, starling, femblogproject, BethDunn, Laura, MFL, anonymous et all for being so engaged!)

Further reading from the EBC archives:

North and South
Liveblogging Jane Eyre
Live-Blogging Northanger Abbey
Live-blogging Sense and Sensibility
Daniel Deronda

Period Adaptation Hotties, #11-15

In honor of Masterpiece classic re-booting this month, I'm re-posting this series of my favorite leading men from costume-drama literary adaptations. After I post all 15, I will add a fourth post with my top 5 favorites from 2006-2008, mining the fertile field that has been the past few seasons of adaptations.

WHAT I SAID THEN + my current comments in brackets:


Julian Sands as the "beauty!" and "joy!" loving George Emerson who rocks Helena Bonham Carter's world in "A Room With a View" ]plus, there's that scene where "La Rondine" is playing in the background and they kiss on the hill in Fiesole]




Alan Rickman, as the staid Colonel Brandon in Sense and Sensibility (remember how he paces back and forth when Marianne is sick and says: "Give me something to do or I shall go mad!"?)
Hugh Grant as the annoyingly weak-tempered but very sweet Edward Ferrars in the same.


Rufus Sewell, now known as the crazy would-be emperor in The Illusionist, for his stunning, stunning Will Ladislaw (my favorite literary hero ever, even more than Darcy) in the Masterpiece Theater production of Eliot's Middlemarch. [Even though Andrew Davies ruined the ending.]




Eric Stolz as an effete, overwhelmed but passionate Lawrence Selden in Terrence Davies' under-appreciated adaptation of Wharton's The House of Mirth.



And the razzie goes to:
Jonathan Rhys-Myers, a personal favorite, for his miserably churlish and bratty George Osborne in Mira Nair's frustrating but excellent production of Thackeray's Vanity Fair [and now for turning Henry VIII into a churlish, bratty... hmmm. Noticing a pattern?
]

Roundup in Bookish World

Some truly amazing links today in the world of literary pop culture.

First, Twilight-mania continues:

• Jezebel uses Twilight to look at the teenage trend-follower vs. stalwart trend-ignorer phenomenon:

  "For every group of girls screaming at a mall appearance, there's an equally fierce group of deliberate trend-buckers, defining themselves by their scorn for what's popular."

'Tis true. There's not much room for nuance in the early teen years. Of course, some of us didn't fall on either side of the dividing line, but quietly lusted after teen idols (I think Leo DiCaprio was the Rob Pattinson of my era) while remaining somewhat buttoned up about it. In other words, no posters, no screaming, no obsessive re-watching. Just dreaming and heart-fluttering.

• EW covers the "Twilight" premiere madness quite well. Read the insane comments for a laugh.

• Speaking of books beloved by teenage girls (but somewhat ignored because of the fangirls' skin color) USA Today interviews Sister Souljah, author of The Coldest Winter ever about her new bestselling prequel, Midnight. Souljah refuses to call herself an "urban lit" writer. She says
  

  "Shakespeare wrote about love. I write about love. Shakespeare wrote about gang warfare, family feuds and revenge. I write about all the same things."

  Still, whether it's categorizable or not, Coldest (with some help from Zane) kicked off a hugely popular genre. Urban lit is an undebiable phenomenon that owes a lot to Souljah. My students loved this book, and I definitely want to read it myself. Check out the sidebar for her wicked response to the phrase, "Sister Souljah moment."

• Jeffrey Goldberg puts George Eliot at the top of a silly but funny list of Philo-semites--a topic near and dear to my blog-heart. I nominate fictional characters Sir Wilfred Ivanhoe and Annemarie, from Number the Stars, in the category of "imaginary philo-semites."
  

The Madwoman in The Attic

As promised...

The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination, Second Edition by Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gubar

My review

The Madwoman in the Attic struck one of the first blows for feminist literary criticism and a uniquely female literary tradition. It's near and dear to my heart because it's the first extended lit-crit I've ever read, and also because it's about my favorite bunch of novels: Victorian (well, 19th century) women's fiction. There's also an awesome section on Victorian poetry. Hellooo, Goblin Market!

The basic theory of the book is that women writers twisted the Madonna/whore stereotype back in on itself, using doubles and alter egos to show different paths women take in a patriarchy, and alternate modes of handling female confinement: submission, madness, deception, searching for an equal (male) partner.

This book is where the theory of Bertha Mason, Rochester's mad first wife, as Jane's alter ego in Jane Eyre, an expression of her inner rage, first became popularized. Gilbert and Gubar--aka the "Gs" as a friend calls them--also discuss some of my other favorite literary interpretations: Heathcliff, yes THAT Heathcliff, (Wuthering Heights) as the essential feminine, the unfettered wild womanly spirit that Cathy must subsume to enter society. Catherine deBourgh in Pride and Prejudice as a possible projection of Elizabeth's future. The sea, in Persuasion, as representing an egalitiarian, romantic space far from the gender roles of society where equality is possible. Or how about Will Ladislaw in Middlemarch as the ideal partner for a woman because of his matriarchal lineage, his cast-out status, and his lack of threatening qualities. (He's a real ladies' man).

Obviously, I eschew the idea of literary theory as being some sort of be-all and end- all. Certainly feminist, Marxist, Freudian, historicist or whatever theories all need to be balanced with each other and an appreciation of the texts we read themselves. But sometimes lit-crit can be fun, a nifty prism through which we re-enjoy our favorite works, and this book is totally one of those times! Word to that.

View all my reviews.

Middlemarch and Electioneering

I love nothing better than drawing parallels between my myriad obsessions, as you know!.
In this case, my sig other and I have been enjoying my parents' awesome Hannukah present (The George Eliot DVD collection--yep it exists, and don't they know their daughter well?) by watching the "Middlemarch" miniseries courtesy of the BBc and--who else?--Andrew Davies. I think Davies missed a few key points of Eliot's masterwork, particularly the final scenes between Will and Dorothea and Will and Rosamand, which is surprising--who would have thought that prince A.D. himself would omit a really sexy scene from a novel whilst adapting it? I mean Eliot has handed it to him on a platter here, with the lightning and the thunder and hands clasping and kisses and embraces and lots of "spasmodic movements" and sobbing. Sam Mendes, are you listening?

But... enough about love! George Eliot's novels were about a lot more love, and given that this is high primary season I found all the politicking and electioneering in the adaptation refreshingly well-done and relevant. There was a particular scene between Will and Lydgate, these two young, slightly arrogant but well-meaning idealists who share the goal of genuinely reforming their corrupt society, testing each other by talking about their respective "obligations" to less-than perfect men who are giving them the one thing without which real change is impossible: money. It's such a transcendent moment--in a simple exchange, Eliot and Davies have given us this universal truth about change, corruption, idealism, compromise. As the presidential candidates jostled about who was the real change agent and criticized each other's past votes this week, Eliot's relevance and insight hit home once more.

Which brought me to the question I always come back to: of all my favorite novels, the battle for the one that's numero uno always comes down to Middlemarch vs. Pride and Prejudice, with Jane Eyre and Persuasion being the equally beloved but less perfect silver medalists (And yes, I still say that I've read Gatsby and Ulysses and Sound/Fury and all that stuff).

Pride and Prejudice is by far the most flawlessly crafted novel ever written IMO, without a word, a note out of place, with this symmetry of character, events, and understanding that's breathtaking. It also has a far better sense of humor, economy of words, and lack of didacticism than the much more traditionally 19th century Eliot.

But the perfection of Middlemarch is different--it's the scope of it, the way she crafts this world of co-dependence between people of different classes and creeds and describes the way the same problems affect poor and rich alike, and this damningly accurate understanding of the way gossip and perception filters and thwarts good intentions. It's just so complete a portrait, so complete a novel... and that last line:

for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.

I can barely read it without choking up. It's so full of both the tragedy that Dorothea's sex kept her from being all she could, but also the triumph that she achieved so much by lifting up those around her. It's a question we still deal with today, no? Whether to strive for great change or just to be kind to the humans we come into contact with. Neither are easy, both are nearly impossible--look at the personal failings of our "great men."

Anyway, I still think in my heart of hearts I prefer P&P, but I'm again awed by Middlemarch. I can't wait for the feature film.

Daniel Deronda--reviewed and re-Jewed.

I love me a sexy Hebrew.

Greetings readership. It's been a long time, as they say, and there's much to catch up on that will never truly be caught up upon, because time is ephemeral and stuff. (Again, what I've been doing.)

To prove my mettle, I return to you with a full-on discussion of Daniel Deronda, a very wonderful and complex work by George Eliot that helped me get through the December blahs. And of course being an egalitarian bookworm chick, I followed up my dense reading with a dense viewing of the obligatory Andrew-Davies penned BBC miniseries, which wickedly sexed up the villain to such an extent that he may qualify as the worst. husband. ever., even for a BBC miniseries. Which as we all know is saying a lot.

As all the critics like to remind us, Deronda is a novel with two parts, the connecting thread of which is our eponymous hero, Daniel. Said critics also agree pretty unanimously that the "Jewish" half, wherein the gentleman/prince Daniel, like Moses, discovers his true identity and redeems his people, is not nearly as well-written or brilliant as the half which narrates the bitter redemption of beautiful, selfish, Gwendolyn Harleth and her journey among the aristocracy. Write what you know, as they say. While Eliot is able to perfectly illuminate the miserable lot of women by using real characters (Gwendolyn might be the most psychologically astute portrait of shallowness in literary history), when she gets to the Jooz, she's so busy trying to portray them as exotic and wise and sinless and mystical that she forgets to make them people.

I was almost more enamored of her stereotypical depiction of the somewhat "common" Cohen family and their silver shop than by the exalted Mordecai and Mirah. This conundrum, not coincidentally, really reminded me of Uncle Tom's Cabin (Harriet Stowe and Eliot were correspondents), with its pure, sinless oppressed blacks, and its solution of sending them to Liberia, just as the sainted Deronda and Mirah go off to Palestine. All this is complicated stuff-- there's more than a lot of unintended racism in both novels, which use the innocent "other" to throw into relief the corruption and decay of their societies. However, Stowe and Eliot are also responding to the bigotry of their peers and may have felt they didnt have room for nuance.

It's tempting to say that the moral of Eliot's literary failing is that art shouldn't be sacrificed for politics. However, we can't deny that public reaction to these novels was much stronger than it would have been to op-ed pieces because people were moved by them.

Anyway I'm glad I tackled this book. George Eliot may be the most formidably intelligent of the 19th century novelists, and the novel has enough redemptive literary qualities that one can enjoy it both as a work of art and a relic of its time-- (AND a retort to the Trollopes and Dickens' of the world who put nasty Jewish characters in their book.)

But on to the BBC version... it was just so gorgeously well-done. Nice work, Andrew Davies. Hugh Dancy is a very pretty man, and he captured sensitive Daniel Deronda perfectly while Romola Garai was also an excellently spoiled Gwen. I really enjoyed seeing six degrees of Austen adaptations. Amanda Root (aka Anne Elliot--Persuasion) was a simpering Mrs. Davilow. And of course the actor who played Henleigh Grandcourt (Mr Rushworth---Mansfield Park) was perfectly sinister. And lastly, slimy Lush was played by David Bamber (Mr. Collins--Pride and Prejudice) to creepy, obsequious perfection. Another fun factoid-- Jodhi May, who played Mirah, was bitchy, plain Cousin Grace Stepney in The House of Mirth.

A Touch of Romance

A Uk survey lists readers' favoritest love stories:

(via the Guardian)

"It's really heartening to see how these stories, written so long ago, retain the power to captivate 21st century audiences," said Richard Kingsbury, channel head of UKTV Drama, which commissioned the study. (aha! a TV station commissioned it eh?)

My main girls Jane and the Brontes are definitely representing. I might add some post-1900 romances like The Age of Innocence or Tender is the Night but since those all end so miserably... I see why they didn't get votes. But then again Wuthering Heights' "and then the two ghosts wandered around the depressing moors forever" ending isn't exactly heartwarming. Nor is R and J. So go figure.

The top 20

1 Wuthering Heights Emily Brontë, 1847

2 Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen, 1813

3 Romeo and Juliet William Shakespeare, 1597

4 Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë, 1847

5 Gone with the Wind Margaret Mitchell, 1936

6 The English Patient Michael Ondaatje, 1992

7 Rebecca Daphne du Maurier, 1938

8 Doctor Zhivago Boris Pasternak, 1957

9 Lady Chatterley's Lover DH Lawrence, 1928

10 Far from The Madding Crowd Thomas Hardy, 1874

11 = My Fair Lady Alan Jay Lerner, 1956

The African Queen CS Forester, 1935

13 The Great Gatsby F Scott Fitzgerald, 1925

14 Sense and Sensibility Jane Austen, 1811

15 = The Way We Were Arthur Laurents, 1972

War and Peace Leo Tolstoy, 1865

17 Frenchman's Creek Daphne du Maurier, 1942

18 Persuasion Jane Austen, 1818

19 Take a Girl Like You Kingsley Amis, 1960

20 Daniel Deronda George Eliot, 1876

Plaque Politicking

There is no single way to commemorate the work of our favorite authors. But it seems like London has come up with all of them. The easiest way, of course, is to visit the British library, where research has been so democratized that any student can pick up a reader's pass in under 10 minutes. No pretentious letters of introduction – just a brief chat with a pleasant research librarian and some paperwork. Or, you can visit one of the city's abundant, small book shops. If you decide to do your afternoon reading in Piccadilly's Waterstone Bookstore, you can sip on cocktails that are as inventive as the books they celebrate. The "Tequila Mockingbird" served in their roof café is a worthy indulgence if you can dish out the 11 pounds-- only to be followed by the "grapes of wrath" wine collection. The most popular way for an eager tourist to stalk their literary alter-egos, however, doesn't even require stepping indoors.

We know George Elliot lived at Number 4 Cheyne Street in an elegant Goergian townhouse overlooking the Thames. We also know that Jane Austen passed time with her brother at 23 Hans Place. Charles Carlyle's home still stands on what is now 24 Cheyne Street-- which was often visited by Dickens, Browning, and Tennyson. Even Oscar Wilde, despite his then-sordid deeds, is now clearly associated with a charming townhouse just across from the Army Museum in Chelsea.

We know this because little circular plaques have been permanently cemented onto the sides of their homes. Most of these bronze medallions have been in place for decades-- since they first started appearing in 1867. Today over 700 can be seen.

It was surprising to learn that in some cases, the placement of certain plaques has been delayed, or resisted by the Corporation of the City of London and the "local authorities" who are entrusted with overseeing the project. Of particular interest is the “home” of Ezra Pound which was unmarked and anonymous for the better part of the past 5 decades. In fact, the “home”—actually a tiny apartment down an alley behind a Church- did finally receive recognition. According to the current occupant on the ground floor, a retired artist, the plaque was only installed recently and after considerable struggle. In the course of a brief interview earlier this month (she graciously invited me in and even read a Pound poem to me) this graying but elegant artist told the first-hand account of meeting Pound’s daughter, Mary. Mary told her she had to fight desperately just to get “one of those silly little signs” on the wall. Perhaps in return for guarding the fort, as it were, the current occupant was given a picture of Pound by his daughter. She displays it proudly , but admitted that before all of this she had “scarcely heard of the man.”