Customer Reviews

Vanity Fair

5 star:		(28)
4 star:		(12)
3 star:		(7)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(7)

 

 

Thackeray's "Vanity Fair" is such a sprawling, grand example of the Victorian novel that any mere two-hour movie adaptation will be forced to leave out crucial elements. As it is, this six-hour BBC film version emits certain items (Jos Sedley's ultimate fate, the James Crawley episode), but is remarkably faithful to its source. Indeed, a television mini-series is the best way to adapt such a work, allowing the story to unfold and the viewer to become involved with the various characters.

This production is fantastic, with beautiful costumes, excellent performances, and a fine script. Chief among its attractions is Natasha Little in the key role of Becky Sharp. Miss Little is not only luminously beautiful, but manages to arouse our sympathies toward a virtually unsympathetic character. Special mention must also go to Jeremy Swift, whose portrayal of bumbling Jos Sedley is a delight. Miriam Margolyes (always wonderful) and Eleanor Bron appear in secondary roles. The rest of the cast is well-chosen and all play their parts with conviction.

The greatest hurdle a filmed version of "Vanity Fair" faces is how to convey the many shifts of tone which Thackeray goes through in the novel. This problem has been solved by use of an unusual score, which draws from such diverse sources as military marching bands, Strauss waltzes (wrong for the period but who cares?), and a bit of Kurt Weill. Murray Gold's score never lets us forget that we are in the world of Thackeray's biting satire, and not Jane Austen's more delicate world of comedy-of-manners.

All told, it will take a long time before this film treatment is bettered.

It would be hard for a movie to do justice to Thackeray's wonderful novel VANITY FAIR, but it is clear that this awesome 5 hour version is every bit as good. I bought the whole set of tapes as soon as I heard they were coming out, and love them. Every time I watch them, I get so involved in the characters that I can't wait to watch the next episode. I always laugh at the broad, witty comedy that brings the film to life, and at other times I have to cry, for example the beautiful scene when Dobbin finally admits to Amelia that he is in love with her, or when Amelia has to send her son to go live with his grandfather because she is too poor to take care of him...The film is excellently done, with lavish sets and costumes. I find all of the actors to be wonderful, Natasha Little in particular plays the tricky role of Becky to the hilt, so that we are simultaneously rooting for her and wishing she'll get what's coming to her. Little finds the right mixture of sympathy and wickedness to capture Becky. Also, Miriam Margolyes is absolutely hysterical as the outspoken Miss Crawley, constantly laughing, eating, gossipping, flirting, moaning about her aches and pains, talking with her mouth full, and stabbing her friends in the back--she's like Becky, minus the table manners. Many peole have complained about the musical score, but I think it was incredible. The use of mainly brass instruments is superb, and the horns blare with an evil charm just at the right moments. They are just the right touch, adding to the movie's boldness. The only thing that upset me was that in almost every shot, the heads of the main characters are always cut off--it's so annoying! Luckily, the movie is so interesting that often we forget about it, but once you start noticing all the badly framed shots it becomes obsessive! Also, the cinematography is grainy at times, especially in the darker scenes. And I felt that the momentous confrontation between Becky, Rawdon, and Lord Steyne could have been better executed...but oh, well. The rest is too good to complain about. The film is charming, wicked, and very intelligent while still containing its dark moments such as Mr. Osborne insanely destroying every rememberance of his son, or a later scene when Osborne stares in desperation at his grandson with a mixture of sadness, loathing, and grief for his own dead son--it's just indescribable. Obviously, it's difficult to watch the film unless you buy the whole set of tapes or borrow them from someone, but if you are interested in seeing it, it is well worth the money spent on the whole set of tapes.

I have read "Vanity Fair" twice and intend to re-read this coming year. I remember seeing a BBC version with Susan Hampshire in the role of Becky Sharp back in the 1970s, as well as the 1930s Hollywood version with Mariam Hopkins on late-night television when I was a teenager. Now I understand that there is to be another Hollywood version, with Reese Witherspoon, of all the odd choices, to play Becky. Natasha Little is, in my opinion, an outstanding Becky Sharp, surpassing both Hampshire and Hopkins in the role. I cannot feature the vastly overrated Ms Witherspoon being able to give as subtle and natural a performance as Ms Little does in this A&E production. Ms Little is at once appealing and a monster, a woman "on the make"; in one very funny, and creepy, bit she is forced to turn down a marriage proposal from the coarse Sir Pitt Crawley, because she is already married to his dashing son. When Pitt Crawley leaves the room, it becomes clear that Becky would have married the vulgar old man for the security he offered had she been free.

The rest of the cast was very good, particularly the actors portraying Amelia, George, Rawdon, and Dobbin. There has been some criticism of the appearance of the actors, that they were too plain or even downright unattractive for the roles. One of the differences between British and American productions (particularly those made for televsion) is that in British productions the performers are more often selected for their talent than their appearance. Sometimes this backfires, as in the case of the remake of "The Forsyte Saga," when many viewers complained about Geena McKee being too plain for the role of Irene Forsyte, who was supposed to be a great beauty. In the case of "Vanity Fair" I feel that the actors were just right for their roles in every way, including appearance. Becky's attraction was her spirit as much as her face, and Amelia's sweetness was the inspiration for the love and admiration she received from men.

My one criticism of the film was the loud background music. It was supposed to suggest a carnival or fair, but it was so blasted loud that at times it drowned out the performers. Although this was not as constant as one reviewer indicated, it did happen often enough to be annoying. If you like Thackeray, I think you will be pleased with this version of his masterpiece.

Most of us period drama aficionados have been brought up on a fairly one-sided menu of Austen, and as a consequence some will be shocked by "Vanity Fair", which is a whole different ball-game. Austen may deal out the occasional pin-prick, but her social comedy remains well-mannered and has a basic sweetness. Thackeray provides a far more brutal kind of satire; "Vanity Fair", though nearly 200 years old, is a startlingly modern novel still. Rarely can a reader have been so hard put to find a single sympathetic character in a book. George Osborne is a heartless, vain opportunist; Jos Sedley a ridiculous coward; Amelia Sedley an insipid dreamer forever betting on the wrong horse; Dobbin on the other hand is just too good to be true and infuriatingly servile - et cetera. Only amidst such a cast are we tempted to feel a modicum of sympathy for viciously predatory Becky Sharp, who by modern standards would no doubt qualify as a psychopath. The tables only turn on her when she meets her equal in the vile lord Stayne (what's in a name), who warns her: "Don't overplay your hand, Mrs. Crawley - you're in very deep now...". She does overplay her hand, and her astonishing social climb is mercilessly reversed. It's all very Darwinian avant-la-lettre: survival of the fittest.
Andrew Davies perfectly caught on to this in his gritty, highly original adaptation of Vanity Fair for TV. Apart from Becky Sharp (Natasha Little) the cast includes no pleasant beauties of either sex to please the eye. Murkiness and squalor are not eschewed and find their peak at Queen's Crawley, where maggots indeed crawl on Lady Crawley's dinner plate, and Sir Pitt senior devours his tripe with relish. Though not all viewers may be pleased, the fact is that the conditions shown in this series are far more realistic depictions of actual living conditions in late 18th and early 19th century England than the glossed-over prettiness presented in most Austen-films. And still many of the actors have much better teeth than they would have had in those days...
The acting is quite excellent throughout, and the intensity of it is heightened by frequent use of close-ups. At other times camera movements are deliberately unsteady, lending a documentary feel to Amelia's visit of George's grave, and making the viewer share in the drunkenness when Osborne senior waxes sentimental over young George at his dinner table. In dialog, the camera may well very slowly pan across the room, taking in all the little trinkets and ornaments it meets underway before finally arriving at the face of the other character. Instead of the perfectly choreographed quadrilles of Pride and Prejudice, you may find a dance at a ball depicted by a mere quick succession of close-ups of feet and whirling skirts. It is all rather unconventional and extremely effective. So is the music - the score is dominated by several deliciously raucous wind-band themes that tell us we are, indeed, in a fairground.
The DVD comes without any extra's. I'm unsure to judge the picture quality, as I am playing the disc to a PAL TV and don't know if this causes distortions. Still it looked more than acceptable, except that pale faces tended to go slightly blue in outdoor scenes, and that dark images looked a bit as if filmed through a slightly sooty lens, and sometimes had unsteady backgrounds.
Though in the final reckoning this series may not quite aspire to the perfection of the latest BBC Pride & Prejudice, it is at least as worthwhile and involving to watch, and makes a very refreshing change from the usual period drama routines.

Lots of different opinions here, lots of love and a some surprising hate. I can only speak for myself and my wife, but we found this DVD riveting. One of the most absorbing BBC productions we've seen. Andrew Davies here seems to be criticized for straying too far from the text, and in other adaptations of not straying far enough. Well, all I can say is that this tale, and this filming, were perfect. Enjoyed the music, which was beautifully composed and appropriately harsh for a very harsh tale, admired the direction, found the characters compelling and believable, and loved the subtle and deft touches throughout in which character was revealed oh so skillfully. An though the acting was impeccable, three actors deserve special accolades. Tim Woodward, a face I had not seen before, is gripping as John Osborne, the conflicted and tormented father who loves and desires and hopes and fears and bullies. Nathaniel Parker, recently seen in Bleak House as a dim-witted and selfish fool, is exquisite, showing us with eyes and mouth the pains, the torments, and the heartbreak of a man who suddenly realizes he has been sucker-punched. The good-hearted, naive, and silly Joseph Sedley, a character it would be all-too-easy to laugh at, is portrayed without malice by a charming Jeremy Swift. Other wonders abound, from the smallest characters up to Becky herself, the toxic blend of a beauty we want to trust and an evil that is all too painfully exposed.

We bought in completely. Compared to the Witherspoon version, far more gorgeous and spectacular, but ultimately lame and vapid, this is astounding. A delight from start to finish. If a novel is filmed, and the result is nearly perfect, even if the original plot was abused, I do not care. Think of David Lean's Great Expectations, related to, but freely adapted from, a sprawling masterpiece, and an absolutely riveting piece of cinema. That was a great film from a glorious book. If the film substantially alters the novel's themes, or pretties up the author's vision, well, that is unpardonable. But no such transformation happens here. To compress 800 pages and a multitude of characters even into 6 hours, well concessions must be made. I cannot help but believe that Thackery would be quite pleased with these choices.

Andrew Davies is a very clever man with, I suspect, quite a tender heart. I don't know how he draws out these old novels for us the way he does, but he's done it again here. I have to admit, the first time I saw this production, I liked it, but was left a little cold. The second time I saw it, I knew it was just me, and that it takes a viewer accustomed to mediocrity some time to readjust to this kind of brilliance. The costumes and sets, in the hot Oriental colours of the real Regency instead of the too often misrendered pastels of the earlier Georgians, are well done and the acting and casting are great. Davies, cleverly, put some of the wry observations of the narrative passages into the mouths of the characters. "I must say, Dr. Hume, if a man's character is to be abused, there's nobody like a relation to do the business." David Bradley is old Sir Pitt is himself, in fact, the whole Queen's Crawley contingent will make you both laugh and squirm, just like they're supposed to. Janine Duvitski as marvelous as the ghastly, grasping Mrs. Bute Crawley. Natasha Little is luminously beautiful as Becky Sharp, her careless curls at unsettling contrast with her little smirk. Amelia Sedley is so wet you could ring her out (Thackeray predicted my criticism of her character, by the way) but Frances Grey plays her so well you admire her, as you do all of them, for just being the flawed creatures they are.

You will find the inhabitants of this fair very much alive and not at all like puppets, as Thackeray disingenuously tells you they are all through his book. The visuals well support the spirit of the production. There is one scene of Dobbin and Osbourne conversing outside their barracks, and the camera then raises into an extreme high shot that makes them look exactly like toy soldiers or pictures on a chocolate box. It's the shot often used to film a football game or the square formations of the old battlefields, so we are reminded that what became almost quaint in the ensuing two hundred years was once very real. The battlefield scenes are up close and personal, noisy and ugly, from the grim patience of the Dobbins and Osbournes, the foot soldiers who carried the terrible day of the Battle of Waterloo, to the hard breathing and slamming together of metal and flesh as the cavalry engages.

The score has disturbed some people, but it's as brilliant as the adaptation and delivers the feel of the period directly. It's hard to say why it works, but there's no question that it does, and anachronism only serves as a friend, here. Like Becky's wonderful, new remarks, which I'm sure she really made, "Baisez mon cul." and "I'm sorry I'm laughing, your ladyship, but I just can't help it." When I actually saw the band at Vauxhall Gardens, they provided me my bearings, like finding a "You Are Here" on a map. The songs are placed perfectly. When Becky's entertaining at home, her occasional flat notes don't seem to be noticed by the men in her thrall, and Becky similiarly winning over the gyneocracy with her "Dido's Lament" (sans the flat notes) at the Steyne House soiree is not to be missed.

The story itself, whatever it's about, whether it's just a puppet show or one of the most profound, tender observations of human life ever put to paper, is delivered faithfully, without sentiment, but with more of the buried tenderness of the author than he would ever own up to. The ending, where these inhabitants of Vanity Fair learn to recover from glamorous war and get on with the business of becoming unexciting Victorians, and where a mysterious bad girl is saved by the intervention of a cheeky, innocent little boy is delivered in this production in all its beauty. But never mind that. As it was not about pastel interiors, the real Regency was not about sentimentality. Somebody said that all authors are in love with their childhood. Even though this was the work of a Victorian, born in 1811, and even if he did not properly approve of her, I think Thackeray was in love with his wicked, plucky little heroine, as he was in love with the period in which she flourished. Perhaps he is the curious little boy walking up the casino steps into the past and into that strange world of what appear to be grown-up people with their masks and secrets. When he gets there, he finds this particular grownup needs him. In fact, it's almost as if she's waiting for him to let him know she is not so strong on her own, and to remember her and to please be sure to write about her. We certainly need Andrew Davies and his adaptations. See what you think of this one. You won't be disappointed, and if you are, watch it again.

While Mira Nair's new version of this timeless masterpiece invokes colour and a truly distinct cinematographic vision, Ms Little surpasses Reese Witherspoon in every aspect-beauty, charisma, and sheer acting ability. But, most importantly, Ms Little depicts the anti-heroine that Thackery intended: a witty, vivacious woman who is as heartless and cutting as she is charming and, at times, earnest in her compassion. The lovely part of this wonderful BBC version is that the viewer can't quite decide about Becky Sharp's character; she is left ambiguous, an anomaly that one must watch countless times to figure out (and even then it is never quite possible). In stark contrast to Nair's shallow characters and distorted historical sense, Andrew Davies' adaptation is marvelous, and the casting is perfect: the actors and actresses are chosen for their talent, acting as the characters that Thackery describes, rather than the over-the-top Hollywood beauty queens and kings. It is refreshing to see something that remains true to the realism of everyday life. The musical score, though loud and sometimes seemingly overwhelming, produces the effect of humour that is integral to the film; it reminds the viewer not to take the characters as seriously as, say, Amelia takes herself. A splendid rendition!

This is brisk, fun production that doesn't take itself any more seriously than it should, and doesn't mind winking at us with a secret smile at the same time. The story of Becky Sharp, a girl who is never any better than she needs to be, and her friend Amelia who is much too good for her own good.

Natasha Little is simply perfect as Becky. Little is the kind of woman that women find hard to like: delicately beautiful, exceptionally talented - making her perfect to play Becky. It is the subtle nuances in her moments that give her performance great depth and complexity - needed for accessibility for a selfish character who is the smartest person in any room she is in. Becky is a woman who would agree with the quote of another brilliant beauty, Hedy Lamar: "Any woman can be glamourous. All she has to do is stand still and look stupid." Little's Beky is not as likable or vulnerable as Reese Witherspoon - who played Becky in a major motion picture film version made right around the same time - but with a miniseries we have time to understand her more. Besides, not many actresses are as likable as Witherspoon.

As the story begins, this production does not look lavish, but the casting is so wonderful, the script so strong, the costumes simple but just right, that we are given the ability to focus on getting to know the people we will be following through 6 episodes.

It is this initial simplicity that is the brilliance of the production design by Malcolm Thornton. In the early stages, poverty is cramped and messy; work is dark, cluttered and rotting, and wealth is clean, and bright and airy... like freedom. As we progress throught the story, wealth becomes more complex, overstuffed and overdecorated, echoing the complexity of the lives of Becky and Rawdon. Rawdon played by the handsome and overwhelmingly talented Nathaniel Parker (INSPECTOR LINLEY, BLEAK HOUSE).

Breathtaking Andrew Davies, possibly the most brilliant adapter of the classics of all time, gifts us with a screenplay of grace and subtlety, weaving the ease of modern speech perfectly into the period action in a way that feels classic, but is totally accessible.

It all bounces along to the ohm-pa-pa of a brass band. This band is one of the anachronistic touches of the production. While it passes as a military band, it also has a the raw, slightly under-rehearsed sound of a New Orleans jazz band, and sometimes a 1940s dancehall... meanwhile Becky's musical choices are straight from the pub... to the delight of the men around her. The band is really the only downfall of the production, in the moments of great serious importance, the band hits us over the head with a blaringly repetitive theme that gets very annoying after 6 episodes. It is the only "wrong note" in an otherwise witty and wise score. One of the nice subtle touches is that even Becky's singing, which at first seems flawless and delightful, begins to sound a bit flat in the episodes where we see dark results of her behavior on those around her.

The music for Amelia and William is completely different. Plaintive melodies played as quietly as loyalty and love that things only of the good of the beloved. Philip Glenister as William carries the heart of the piece with affecting restraint. Miriam Margoles does her best work EVER here, and Jeremy Swift as Jos is absolutely delightful in every moment he is on screen!

This entire miniseries is just marvelous, aspects of the production in tune with each other, in service to the whole piece. FANTASTIC.

I read William Makepeace Thackeray's novel "Vanity Fair," the only novel of his I have read, back in February of this year. I was hesitant to do so at first because I heard many negative comments about the book from several people whose opinions I respect. I am happy to report that the book is a splendid novel, full of vibrant characters that soon come to feel like living, breathing creatures under Thackeray's masterful pen. The book was so spectacular that when I learned an American film version starring Reese Witherspoon is set to arrive sometime next year I looked forward to seeing it. Fortunately, an individual with fantastic knowledge about foreign films quickly alerted me to the existence of this BBC adaptation of Thackeray's masterpiece. Released over here in the U.S. by A&E, "Vanity Fair" runs for nearly six magical hours. The first time I watched this production, back in the summer, it took me only one day to view because I simply couldn't turn it off. I recently watched "Vanity Fair" again and realized I really ought to put this on my Christmas list because it is that good. I would start watching American television again if I could see productions of this caliber on a regular basis.

"Vanity Fair," set in the years surrounding Napoleon's resurgence in Europe, traces the rise and fall of two young British women, Rebecca Sharp and Amelia Sedley. The two young ladies meet in a sort of finishing school and when the time to reenter society arrives, Amelia takes Rebecca home with her to meet the family. The Sedley clan is comfortably upper middle class, with the father earning a nice living speculating on government bonds. Also home in time to greet the two is Amelia's buffoonish brother Jos, recently returned from his minor government post in India. Becky, an orphan who is essentially a gold digger of epic proportions, attempts to attach herself to the portly and arrogant Jos with hilarious results. Amelia looks forward to reacquainting herself with George Osborne, the son of one of her father's business partners and a first class cad. Nearby is William Dobbin, George's best friend and a decent man who has a huge crush on the clueless Amelia. Jos soon ruins any chance he has with Becky when he gets drunk on a group outing. From this point forward, a vast array of hilarious yet contemptible characters prance across Thackeray's stage.

As Dobbin and Osborn head off to continental Europe to fight against Napoleon, Becky obtains a job as a governess for a deteriorating noble family called the Crawleys. Sharp's job soon finds her embroiled in the tumultuous politics of this clan as all of the family members vie with each other in an attempt to curry favor from the rich but ailing Miss Crawley. It isn't too long before Becky receives a marriage proposal from the patriarch of the family at about the same time she runs off with the man's son. As Sharp navigates through the convoluted realms of the rich and powerful in an effort to secure for herself a better social position, Amelia encounters her own problems. The family loses its money with Napoleon's defeat and must find a way to survive. The quick marriage between Amelia and George ends just as rapidly when Osborne dies on the battlefield, leaving behind a pregnant Amelia and an infuriated elder Osborne who wants nothing to do with his son's widow. Caught in the middle is Dobbin, who desperately wishes to make Amelia his own but cannot bring himself to compete with the memory of dearly departed George. The fun of reading and watching "Vanity Fair" is in seeing how all of these disparate threads come together in the end.

The BBC production of Thackeray's work does a wonderful job of adapting his novel to television. Only a few scenes in the book fail to make an appearance here, something I consider as a sign of a successful production. Where "Vanity Fair" the television movie succeeds most is in the cast chosen to portray the diverse characters. I happened to read a version of the book that included the original drawings that accompanied Thackeray's story, and I must say that it is obvious the producers of this movie studied these sketches in detail. One need only look at the resemblance actor Gerard Murphy's Lord Steyne has to the pictures in the novel to recognize how closely the producers followed Thackeray's vision. The whole cast does a marvelous job of mirroring the characters in "Vanity Fair," but Natasha Little as Rebecca Sharp deserves special mention. Her performance is tremendous, and the transformation she undergoes from a slightly pretty schoolgirl to a stunning beauty with social rank is amazing. Moreover, Little captures perfectly Becky's barely contained scorn for those around her. With a roll of the eyes, a slight shrug of the shoulders, and a mischievous grin she devastatingly disparages all of the nonsense going on around her. You simply cannot help but like her. As bad as Becky Sharp is as a person, Thackeray throws you a curve ball at the end that upends everything we think we know about her.

I liked the DVD presentation, although there aren't any extras to speak of on the discs. One thing that did surprise me about this production was the booming background music that fires up from time to time. It's a type of spicy music replete with blatting horns, and the first time it came on it nearly blew my speaker system out. I ended up enjoying the music, though, as it seemed to add an element of whimsy to many scenes that are, frankly, whimsical. I simply don't have anything bad to say about this movie. It is a must see.

"Vanity Fair," first published serially in 1847-48, is William Makepeace Thackeray's tale of the fortunes of two women. On the one hand we have the ambitious and amoral Becky Sharp, the orphaned daughter of a struggling painter and a French opera singer, and on the other the passive Amelia Sedley, the wellborn but sheltered daughter of rich merchant. The two young women meet at Miss Pinkerton's Academy for young ladies, where Becky is a tutor of French and Amelia a student, and become friends. We then follow their intertwined lives as Jane tries to climb the social ladder and Amelia follows the dictates of her heart.

"Vanity Fair" is celebrated for Thackeray's disparaging and negative portrait of the upper classes of early 19th-century England. The characters are rather vile, the relationships are hopelessly doomed, and readers who were not the targets of Thackeray's pen have enjoyed it ever since. Like others I watched this BBC mini-series version of "Vanity Fair" after watching the recent theatrical film from director Mira Nair with Reese Witherspoon as Becky Sharp. Ironically, Natasha Little, who plays Becky in this mini-series, plays Lady Jane Sheepshanks in the movie version. I was bothered by the decision to make Becky nicer, because stripped of her amorality the point of the character is lost. By the end of the first scene on the BBC version I knew that Little's Becky was indeed an amoral vixen. The problem is that she does not seem to be smart enough about it to really win our sympathies, and that results in us being detached from the story emotionally.

Becky Sharp has long been considered the prototype for Margaret Mitchell's Scarlett O'Hara, which is an apt perspective in terms of the character's literary heritage. But whereas we root for Scarlett to save Tara, win Rhett, and overcome all her other obstacles, Becky goes her merry way without our really caring about her one way of the other. True, the subtitle for "Vanity Fair" is "A Novel Without a Hero," but there is a sense of irony since the focus is primarily on the two young women, and all of the men are ultimately orbiting around them one way or the other. Still, even in such a social satire I want to at least enjoy the anti-heroine's progression, even if I find her unsympathetic (Shakespeare's "Richard III" is unsympathetic, and I find him fascinating).

This mini-series was written by Andrew Davies and directed by Marc Munden, and the fault in Becky Sharp's characterization belongs more to them than it does Little's performance (Frances Grey plays Amelia). There is a scene early on where Becky impulsively decides to steal some things as she is sent packing, and I found myself thinking not so much that she was bold but that she was being stupid. What you have to remember is that Becky Sharp is disingenuous to one and all. The only point in the entire drama where I felt she was stripped to honest emotion and thoughts about anyone other than herself is when on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo her husband, Rawdon Crawley (Nathaniel Parker), otherwise known as her entrance into high society, is telling her what she needs to know if he does not come back. At that moment she has the good graces to pay attention, treat the matter seriously, and not let what might be her husband's last memory of her be anything other than honest concern for his safety.

The script certainly is faithful to Thackeray's novel, but time and time again I found the acting to be a bit too formal, even given the conventions of the time and place (David Bradley as the Sir Pitt being the exception that proves the rule). Maybe I made a mistake watching the mini-series so soon after the theatrical film, because I tended to favor the performances in the latter, which is usually not the case when I am talking about a BBC version of a literary adaptation versus a theatrical release. Davies makes a major decision, understandable but still a major mistake from my perspective, in deciding to forgo a narrator, since that is the only way to get a lot of Thackeray's satire and wit into the proceedings. Since this is a BBC production so we are talking the same level of production standards we always expect to see from such period pieces. However, if you are looking forward to any extras on this DVD, forget about it.