Contest Update!
Posted by Lizzie on 09/07/06
In light of recent events—i.e., repeated viewing of Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice while wrapping china and disposing of battered underthings—it has become necessary for us to expand our contest to those who have no lines to offer but understand who is hot.
We’re not one of those readers who feel all agonized about the transition of beloved works from print to screen. (Actually, we’re lazy and soppy and frequently prefer them—see The Remains of the Day and Brokeback Mountain—except in the case of Little Women, off which grubby destroyers should keep their hands.) We certainly don’t prefer the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice to the novel, but a) it is a monumentally delightful and accurate rendering, and b) we never fully recovered from this and don’t expect we ever shall.
OR SO WE THOUGHT.
But…wait for it. Anyway, there are many things we enjoyed about the new P&P, not least the grubby olde English appearance of the cast, assiduously toothy, greasy and disheveled—save Kiera Knightley, who looks as if she’s wandered onto the heath from an afternoon at Sephora. We were also a sucker for the Beeth-faux-ven soundtrack, Brenda Blethyn, and Donald Sutherland, rockin’ out as pater familias with a big 24-who? on his forehead.*
BUT OMIGOD MATTHEW MACFADYEN.
Lord knows, we did not see that coming.
So here’s your challenge. In short, we’re not sure we can abandon Firth, but we’ve also rewound MacFadyen saying, “And why with so little endeavor at civility I must riposte” about 800 times. We need outside influence. We need judgement. We need—as ever—help.
We have presented for your viewing enjoyment identical scenes wherein which Elizabeth busts in on Darcy at Pemberley. Here is Darcy new, here is Darcy old. Hot proposal. Hot proposal in espagnol (Sorry). Some abomination the young people are doing now. Is this a “mashup”? Was this built on a “Mac”? Can we prosecute?
Anyway, what we would like you to do is make a cogent case for whether Firth or MacFadyen is hotter. It need not be an erudite argument. It can something as short as, “When Firth makes his serving-man yank on his clothes to run out to see Elizabeth, that is hot,” or “When MacFadyen looks at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye for two seconds in the sitting room, that is hot.” Whoever finds the hottest moment is also entered to win. If you are stumped, simply go to the comments below and enter “Darcy.”**
*P.S., if you do own a DVD of the latest version, we highly recommend a second watching with the frequently hilarious commentary of director Joe Wright. Amidst the rapturous murmuring over the “revelation” of Kiera Knightley and the “beautiful voice” of MacFadyen, there’s the occasional, “Yeah, get the hell out of there,” each time Darcy bolts from the room, the noting of Elizabeth “checking out Wickham’s arse”, and the assessment that Mr. Collins boasting of having a “parsonage of no mean size” is “rude”. Don’t you love how, in Britain, “rude” means “dirty”? We love that.
** Not that you’re asking for it, but we wish we had an extra set of the Jane Austen reprints for which we wrote the back-cover copy to give away to you too. There one is. Cute, right? Oh well.
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England has always reveled in its drawing-room dramas, from Jane Austen’s social minefields to E.M. Forster’s Howards End to Upstairs, Downstairs — and yes, the blockbuster Downton Abbey. John Lanchester’s brilliant Capital, set on a once-ordinary London block whose housing prices have skyrocketed, has the distinction of being the first brick-and-mortar novel set squarely in our current times.
I am not a traditionalist by any means, but I stand firm in the thought that the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice perfection. Absolute perfection! Colin Firth’s Darcy is the touchstone of hotness. Matthew MacFayden and Kiera Knightley lack the maturity of Colin and Jennifer. The latest P&P is tolerable, but reminds me of a just-barely-slightly-above-average high school production. Take the Pemberley scene, for example. Up the grassy knoll saunters a very damp and very hot Darcy (Colin Firth) where he meets up with the lovely Jennifer Ehle. Between them unfolds a deliciously awkward conversation that maintains every bit of its British propriety. The scene from the MacFayden/Knightley version lacks the subtlety of the BBC film. There’s giddy awkward laughter, big goggley glances. This MacFayden/Knightley version should be titled “Flakey Awkwardness and Prejudice.” No, Miss Bennett and Mr. Darcy have no pride in this version. Knightley and MacFayden are too sure of themselves as attractive, Hollywood actors and actresses are wont to be. This, for me, detracts from the characters
But back to hotness. It’s Darcy’s sultry smugness (perfected by the lovely Firth) that makes him so freakin’ irresistable. Have you seen those chocolately brown eyes!? Is there a pinnacle of Firth/Darcy hotness? That is a good question. There are many moments that would make for the perfect “Hot Darcy Action Figure.” There’s the “Fencing Darcy” action figure. There’s “Exhausted Post-Letter Writing Darcy”. There’s the limited edition “Cambridge-Graduate-Darcy-Intrudes-Upon-Wickham-in-Flagrante-Delicto” action figure as well. These are all very hot moments. But the hottest of hot is the aforementioned “Moist Sauntering Darcy.” Yes, a damp, surprised, yet restrained Colin Firth is a hot Colin Firth.
And with that, I bid you adieu.
Melanie
McFadyen…all the way…
“I love…I love…I love you.”
Le sigh.
Colin Firth is the epitome of Mr. Darcy, as evidenced by his re-doing the role in the two Bridget Jones’ movies, and sort-of redoing it in Love, Actually. MacFayden didn’t really strike me as Darcyish, to be honest, although I think he’d make a great Heathcliffe, or maybe a good Mr. Rochester; he’s a little too…emo? angsty? for Jane Austen’s character, while Firth had the perfect amount of dry humor.
Old Dary – staring at Elizabeth as she turns the piano score pages for Darcy’s sister. Hottest. Ever. End of contest.
[...] This may have been the hardest decision we’ve ever had to make. First off, obvs Hot Darcy Action Figure can and will not pass without notice (though we have deliberated long and deliberately on Darcy love and, despite the popular vote, currently love…love…LOVE Macfadyen). Still, that debate was a late-breaking addition to the book-snagging and occasioned by our quick-beating heart, not our decidery core. We must now turn ourselves to the assortment of linear worms, which, upon the contest’s close, immediately posed the following dilemma—what, exactly, were we in fact motherfucking judging? After much more decidery decideration, we finally settled on the following criterion: the worm that burrowed into OUR ear would be the worm that won. [...]
I say we mash those hot fuckers together and take pictures.
Sorry, but Colin Firth is not the epitome of Mr. Darcy, nor was Firth the First. The version in which he appeared may be truer to the book, but Colin always looked more like a Rochester to me, than a Darcy. The first Darcy I ever saw was David Rintoul. Some say Rintoul was wooden, but at least he looked like an aristocrat.
Matthew Macfadyen, making sweet blue bedroom eyes at Kiera’s Lizzy Bennet, is far closer to the Darcy of my imagination than any other I have seen over the years.
Matthew Macfadyen is the new master of Pemberley. I wave my lavender-scented hanky in derision at all Firth fans. Firth is so 1995, darlings…
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