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Vanity Fair [VHS]

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If you hadn't gathered it from the movie itself, the bonus documentaries on the DVD will make it clear that this edition of Vanity Fair has at its root a fatal flaw. It attempts to portray Becky Sharp as a sympathetic, even admirable person. A plucky, Madonna-style powergirl. As a result, this is an extremely watered-down version of what Thackeray actually wrote. There is nothing nice about his novel, which is tremendously compelling and hilariously funny, but also coldly cynical. Becky is a brutal predator, who doesn't care a hoot about her child or her husband, and goes about exploiting everyone around her with the greatest zeal.She's closer akin to Hannibal Lecter than to Scarlet O'Hara. Reese Witherspoone's portrayal of the non-heroine blunts all the edges, and leaves us with a fairly uninvolving character whose motivations are not always easy to grasp. Other characters are similarly polished up. George Osborne isn't nearly as callous in his behaviour to Amelia as he is in the novel. Dobbin is far too outspoken and powerful a figure whereas with Thackeray he is the prototype of an utter wet noodle. The absurdity and cowardice of Jos Sedley is smothered in layers of oriental mystique. The dazzling Indian finale, shamelessly over the top, that we get by way of obligatory happy ending, would have us believe that Becky has gone off with him on a life of happy traveling, casting infatuated glances in his direction. In the book however, she simply leeches on him, and Jos besieges his acquaintances to protect him from her! "You don't know what a terrible woman she is". That woman is not in this movie.
In this way, the film completely misses out on the essence of the story. It basically becomes a vehicle for a string of sumptuously executed pretty pictures. In the explicit attempt, voiced by Mira Nair herself, to bring the story to the screen as one relevant to modern audiences, rather than being just the next period piece, the exact opposite is achieved. This is beautifully executed but very tame and oldfashioned costume drama. Not even the ridiculous oriental dance scene starring Becky, which shows a complete lack of understanding of early 19th century mores, can change that. Of course, Thackeray's story needs no modernization at all - it is as recognizable today as it was 200 years ago.
130 minutes are not enough to do justice to the book either. All plotlines are reduced to their bare essentials; the psychology driving them is completely lost. One moment George Osborne is shunning Amelia, the next he marries her; one moment he is insulting Becky Sharp, the next he's inviting her to elope with him. At times it is almost as if you can hear the actors gasping for breath while hurrying along to get everything crammed in in the alotted time (two hours is already longer than most movie audiences can stand nowadays if the film isn't peppered with a proper barrage of CG special effects). That none of the acting stands out as particularly distinguished, with the exception of Eileen Atkins's portrayal of aunt Mathilda Crawley, is hardly surprising under these circumstances. Another thing that doesn't help believability is the fact that characters appear to have eternal youth. While we see toddlers growing up into adults, Becky, Amelia and others look exactly the same at the end of the movie as they did at the beginning.
The one thing that may make this movie worthwhile to watch nonetheless, for some, is simply the visual beauty of it. Costumes, locations and sets are generally stunning, and the streets of London are teeming with people, animals and coaches. Given that the whole crew was even dragged to Jodhpur, India, to shoot a few minutes worth of footage, it is however hard to understand why the Brussels episode was shot in the courtyards of Hampton Court Palace, which constitute an unconvincing decor to anyone who knows what Belgian cities look like.
What a strange experience it must have been for Natasha Little to play Jane Sheepshanks, the moost goodly character in the story, and witness the insipid Becky of Reese Witherspoon, after having herself starred as the perfect embodiment of Miss Sharp in the BBC dramatization of the novel. That version is superior to this one on every count: it looks far more realistic, gives us the fleshed out characters in all their nastiness, stays close to Thackeray's sarcastic tone, and is in its own way just as beautifully visualized as this multimillion dollar project. If you want the next best thing to reading the book, the extra cost of that DVD is more than worth it.

This would have been a fun movie to watch if it weren't for the fact that I was expecting Vanity Fair, by William Thackery.

I disagree that it was a fast-forwarding through the book. It was a gross misinterpretation of the book, of Becky, most specifically.

We are urged into feeling deep sympathy for poor Becky by seeing little girl Becky in all her unloved half-orphan (and then very soon, full-orphaned) state. And as a mother to two daughters, that tugged on my heartstrings.

However - this is not the Becky Sharp that Thackery wrote about.

Becky Sharp went for the soft underbelly.

She loathed Amelia Sedley - perhaps because Amelia was so kind to her. Broken early on, Becky could not accept that kindness without resentment and rage. Amelia's charity (which isn't seen in the movie) served to fuel Becky's contempt and hatred. Becky's avid (and successful) attempts at making George Osborne fall for her was spurred on not only by George's initial insolence and destruction of her marital plans with Jos, but also by her anger and resentment towards Amelia.

Thackery's Becky is not a caricature - she has real depth, and although she mostly enjoys twisting the screws into Amelia's thumbs, she also can't help but pity her, and when it finally comes down to it, loses patience and pushes her towards Dobbin by revealing George's indiscretion. It is one of her few acts of selfless kindness. It seems at this point, she is weary of the whole game. But then again, she is much older and a bit wiser.

In addition to hurting Amelia, Becky deliberately sets out to hurt many others - anyone who has slighted Becky is in danger. She mocks, mimics, and often goes for the figurative throat in an attempt to ruffle her injured feathers.

Much of her anger and feelings make sense in the context of her life, and I can almost forgive her that. It is her treatment of her son that paints her in a more horrifying light.

In the book her utter negligence and contemptuous attitude towards her son are held up in stark counterpoint to her loving behavior towards Rawdon, Senior. In the movie, she actuall seems mildly upset that Lord Steyne has bullied her into sending Rawdie away - placing her hand against the window, giving the boy the sweet smile. Not so in the book.. She is relieved to be rid of him, he is a burden on her.

There's a scene where little Rawdy, drawn by the angelic sounds of his mother singing, crashes the party only to be stifled by Lord Steyne. This scene is grossly underplayaed. In the book, the scene is much more poignant - the boy yearns for his angelic mother to sing to him, but to him, she is never really there - she is harsh words or utter neglect. Steynes actions in dismissing him from her presence come across as much harsher and strident against the child's innocent lack of understanding that no matter what he does, she will never love him.

In the end, the boy gets love only from his devoted dad, and his loving aunt (and presumably uncle and cousins) who takes him in.

In the movie, Becky is played up as a spunky victim - a woman who behaves somewhat deplorably, but ever so understandingly, and that is not the woman Thackery wrote about.

I *do* have sympathy for Becky, even in the book - her life is a series of unpleasant moments, and one can understand why she treats others as she does - including her innocent child... but I don't really *like her*. The movie's Becky, by contrast, was almost likeable. We see her as misguided, but in the end, Innocent... she has foolishly played with Lord Steyne, but never actually *wanted* the indiscretion that must accompany her debts to him. He comes across the monster, and when Becky (in the movie) utters her innocence, we almost believe her.

"Ah! Vanitas Vanitatum! which of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied?"

William Makepeace Thackeray's "Vanity Fair," first published serially in 1847-48, tells the story of the fortunes of two women, the ambitious and amoral Becky Sharp, the orphaned daughter of a struggling painter and a French opera singer, and 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.

The BBC did its most reason mini-series version of "Vanity Fair" in 1998 with Natasha Little as Becky Sharp (Little plays Lady Jane Sheepshanks in this version), having done in 1987 with Eve Matheson and in 1967 with Susan Hampshire. This version has Reese Witherspoon playing Becky Sharp, and while having an American actress play the young woman trying to get into English society does translate into a sense that she is clearly on the outside, she does not really convey the amorality of the character. In this version of "Vanity Fair" Becky comes across as mild rather than sharp. This is not because such a characterization is an inevitable result when a story that is perfectly suited to the length of a mini-series is cut down to a 2 hour and 20 minute movie, but rather because director Mira Nair ("Monsoon Wedding") and Witherspoon want Becky to be more likeable. However, given that this results in Becky losing her edge, I think it ends up being the film's flaw.

Becky first sets her sight on Joseph Sedley (Tony Maudsley), Amelia's rather simple brother, but discovers that marrying up into a family that is trying to do the same thing is impossible. So she moves on to be the governess in the house of Sir Pitt Crawley (Bob Hoskins), where she finds someone who appreciates her in Miss Matilda Crawley (Eileen Atkins). Feeling secure enough to make her move, she focuses her attention on Rawdon Crawley (James Purefoy), Sir Pitt's second son. When Becky tells Rawdon that the only two men who will enter her bedroom are her husband and the doctor he quickly calculates the time involved, takes stock of his own meager abilities, and decides to sneak off and find a minister rather than go to medical school. Unfortunately, the family does not greet the marriage with any joy and Rawdon, who is a compulsive gambler, becomes the quicksand upon which Becky builds her ascent into English society.

Becky Sharp has long been considered the prototype for Margaret Mitchell's Scarlett O'Hara, but Thackeray's heroine is at a disadvantage in that the closest thing she has to a Rhett Butler is the creepy Marquis of Steyne (Gabriel Byrne). But then the subtitle for the novel was "A Novel Without a Hero." This is not to say that there are not decent blokes running around, but the best of the bunch, William Dobbin (Rhys Ifans), ends up suffering the most. He is in love with Amelia and she takes no more note of his earnest affection and honorable attention than she does the considerable shortcomings of her beloved George Osborne (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers), who is arrogantly self-absorbed.

Amelia is Becky's counterpart in the narrative, but she is reduced to a supporting role simply because for most of the story she is an impoverished widow. While Becky makes her tentative advances into society, Amelia's life becomes depressingly stagnant. It is only in the fate of their sons that the parallel between the two really continues, until the film's climax where their last interaction has a profound affect on the final fate of each character. Nair provides a deus ex machina to add a bit more of a happy ending to Thackeray's novel, but that makes sense given the way Becky Sharp is written and performed in this film.

This version of "Vanity Fair" is a beautiful film, as English costume dramas tend to be. Because she was born in India, just as Thackeray was, Nair introduces visual elements of that culture into the film to make it a bit different from what we have seen before. Yet it is the subdued version of Becky Sharp that ultimately defines the film. When you find yourself wondering if Becky has really become Steyne's mistress or not, you know that this movie is cleaning up her image a bit too much. There is agreement that Reese Witherspoon is a nice person but she lets too much of that inherent niceness color Becky Sharp and the idea that Scarlett O'Hara is a literary descendant is lost.

I am a Reese Witherspoon fan. I enjoy her work and many of the other cast members in this fiasco. It was fun to see Natasha Little in this version after doing such a wonderful job as Beckie in the BBC production. I read a review of the new movie a week ago, and thought I would go with an open mind. IT CAN'T POSSBILY BE THAT BAD!

For those of you who have read William Makepeace Thackeray's masterpiece of human nature, deceptions, schemes, and manipulation be prepared for disapointment. Beckie is generally kind and creates a minimal amount of mischief. The movie didn't project much of her cold calculation and planning. It was almost as if Beckie's character was a do-gooder or a happen-chance stair climber. The couple of things carried out well were Beckie showing her "plucky" nature and George Osborne playing a snobby jerk (in fact, I was eager for his demise!). But the entire relationship between Amelia and Dobbins is almost an after thought. You can almost see the writer saying "Oh right, they get together in the end - how am I going to squeeze that in! Let's do that here."

I am sure most of this sad representation is because directors have to limit a movie to less than 3 hours. So in turn, the all of the emotions you should feel - the ones where you are rooting for Dobbins, or want to kick Beckie, Rawdon, Pitt, or think, eesh, Ameila get a clue - throughout the movie are lost in this version of this classic. Go buy the BBC version (available on Amazon and A&E) and have a better evening at home.

If you are an Anglophile/period piece addict, you will enjoy this movie despite its flaws. If your significant other isn't into this sort of thing, then tuck him/her in and settle down by yourself to be entertained. The uninitiated will not be happy sitting through this one, as you have to have some knowledge of the social and political scene of the Napolionic era to make any sense out of the plot (e.g. Why are they bashing Lord Nelson over their lobster dinners?)
First, the bad news: The main problem with this film is that someone tried to make it at all. The complex characters and twists and turns of plot from the Thackery book just shouldn't have been condensed into a movie. And the director's well-intentioned theme of anti-colonialism was communicated in confusing bursts. If you LOVE the book, skip this one.
Now for the good news: James Purefoy's performance is worth the price of admission. In his role as Rawdon Crawley, he combines punk rock bad boy (it's the hair-do) with English Prince Charming and steals the show. I may make my own documentary film entitled "What Women Want" and use excerpts from this movie to illustrate my points. For example, "How to Act When Your Your Wife Tells You She's Pregnant" (Nooo, not "Oh, Sh-t") Watch and learn from James Purefoy as Rawdon Crowley : "Oh, you brilliant clever girl! I LOVE you (deep kiss). Yes, the genre for this movie may very well be "female fantasy".

As a stand-alone film, Mira Nair's "Vanity Fair" might be an enjoyable romp, but as an adaptation of one of the greatest works of literature, it fails miserably. A look at the extended title of the book brings to light one of the more visible failings. Thakeray intended for this to be "A Novel Without a Hero".

Nair and Witherspoon (notorious for her insistence on having her interpretation of character motivation supercede the written script) fail to realize that Becky Sharp need not be a likeable character to be an interesting character. Had they explored more of what the book illustrated - her persisent selfishness and tunnel-visioned ambition - there would have been no need for the out-of-character acts of continual selflessness and condescension which made the viewer dislike Becky for her rather schizophrenic behavior. I found the character's mixed ambition and distorted logic distracting and disappointing.

The anachronistic song and dance scene tacked on near the end of the film was visually beautiful, but both inappropriate and out of character for the personalities taking place. No genteel woman would have appeared scantily dressed in a public theatrical forum. No ambitious social climber would have risked the reputation so painstakingly built up to incur the wrath that would surely be the reaction of the audience in watching her perform theatrics. It just cemented how badly the book was interpreted by screenwriters, director and lead actress.

A story based upon Becky Sharp, but not "Vanity Fair" itself would have proven a better film had Nair chosen to honor the 'spirit' she found in the written novel. This film, as an adaptation, does more to dishonor the spirit of the work that in the featurette she claims to have loved for so many years.

While the books are classics of a genre, Vanity Fair
the movie, is a long and pointless period piece. The
acting is uneven, and the weight given to plot issues
inconsistent. Small moments are fleshed out with great
fretting, while major life changes of great gravity
are fliply offhanded in a moment. There are passages,
where significant emotional reversals transpire over
the course of two or three sentences of dialog, and no
sign of wear or consequence. The wardrobe and sets are
splendid, but they do not carry this otherwise dry movie
that skitters across the veneer of meaningful exchanges.
A trash novel "chick flick" of nearly the worst order.
A much better choice for your dineros would be "The
Notebook" or wait for "Sideways" to come out. The latter
is excellent.

Identity usually relates to an individual's parents, the values transmitted by the parents, and the experiences acquired throughout life by the individual. Peoples' choices of life experience were rather limited in 19th century England where the people were more or less assigned to a spot in society based on who the identity of their birth parents was. Women's' choices were even more restricted, especially so if the birth parents had passed away during childhood. If girls without parents were lucky they ended up in a decent orphanage, and a decent orphanage during the 19th century was crude and dirty compared to modern standards. If a woman would try to climb the social ladder it was considered ridiculous and a lack of good manner.

In William Thackeray's novel Vanity Fair the reader can follow the orphan Rebecca `Becky' Sharp struggle to make her life better than it was for her departed father, a talented painter with modest success. Mira Nair undertakes the big task of recreating the fictional masterpiece in a period film where Becky (Reese Witherspoon) decides to climb in society without consideration of upper-class notions. The film goes to great lengths in order to depict the social hierarchy, which is often illustrated through a person's family history. Becky's awareness of the aristocratic rules is considerable, as she displays social dexterity when she maneuvers the dangers grounds of the upper class.

Vanity Fair opens with a scene where the Marquess of Steyne (Gabriel Byrne) walks through a dirty neighborhood in order to get to Becky's father's studio where he paints. Marquess of Steyne's intention is to obtain a painting that he had ordered, for the meager sum of four Guinness. Becky, who is just a child at this time, says ten Guinness, as it is a painting of her late mother and she has a strong emotional connection to the painting. Ten Guinness is given to her, which leaves her staring at Marquess of Steyne walking out with the painting. This moment seems to be a crucial part of the film, as it seems to be the source for Becky's ambition to climb in the social hierarchy and become a part of the rich and known.

The story follows Becky's precise choices and steps throughout her attempt to advance in society. First she tries to sway her friend Amelia Sedley's (Romola Garai) brother to fall for her, as she sees an opportunity to take her first step upwards. This attempt, however, fails as Amelia's fiancé George Osborne (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers) tells her brother that it is not proper to try to marry a woman of Becky's status. Despite Becky's first failure she is not disheartened as she seeks new opportunity in Sir Pitt Crawley (Bob Hoskins) through who she meets Rawdon Crawley (James Purefoy). Through the Crawley's she finds a way to advance in society, as she steps into the family circle uninvited. This brings the audience on a journey where Becky is faced with further opportunity to advance, but is also caused much pain and suffering.

Vanity Fair is shot in bright and vibrant colors, which is often enhanced by the many flamboyant costumes that the characters are wearing. This depicts a strong sense of vanity and arrogance that exists among the aristocrats during the time when the story takes place. The vanity is also enhanced through the mise-en-scene, which provides insights into what seems to be important. For example, there are wads of bills exchanged between men during gambling, extravagant dresses, and rooms with excessive décor and paintings to display wealth. In many aspects, this is what is expected out of a period film, which can be seen in Vatel (2000) and Dangerous Liaisons (1988).

The cinematography is stunning and a pleasure to the eye with its use of colors and camerawork. Nair does a brilliant job in the opening of the film where she uses a peakcock and other symbols for vanity to prompt the audience in the direction of the film. However, the story feels a little too contemporary at times, which does not bring the effect a period film should. In addition, the moral values and lessons of the film seem to dominat through the extensive use of mise-en-scene and what else is within the frame of each shot, which also is purposely done due to the vanity of the society. Nonetheless, Nair offers the audience a good cinematic experience in regards to socioeconomic position in a 19th century society, which is full of insightful notions.

In many ways, director Mira Nair (The Namesake) is a daring, imaginative choice to helm this 2004 film adaptation of William Makepeace Thackeray's classic novel of social mores in early 19th century England. However, the end result of her vision is on the whole, rather disappointing. What could have been an energetic distillation of the book's themes turns into a lengthy episodic movie suffering from poor pacing and softened characters. It is a feast for the eyes though, as it appears Nair is intent on bringing her native India into the film as much as possible from the brightly colored period costumes to the contemporary-looking exotic dance at the Marquess of Steyne's party (with very anachronistic Rai music in the background) to the happy ending atop an elephant in Jodhpur. All these references remain true to the Calcutta-born author's story, and actually they feed into the English imagination of what India meant to them at the time.

At the same time, the images are too overwhelming to make the basic story of Becky Sharp resonate as it should. Her evolution is the heart of the story, as she moves from finishing school outsider to resourceful governess to brave captain's wife to fallen woman in a casino. It's a long, rocky journey, almost too long for a 137-minute movie to bear as it turns out. Nair, however, also has a good handle on the comic banter among the characters, and it certainly helps that she has assembled a "Who's Who" of British stage and film in all the roles except the primary one. As Becky, Reese Witherspoon gives it a valiant effort and perfects her British accent to Gwyneth Paltrow's standards, but she seems to be channeling a hybrid of her Elle Woods (Legally Blonde) and her Tracy Flick (in Alexander Payne's Election) by way of Kate Winslet in Sense & Sensibility. When facing down her opponents in her climb upward, especially in the early scenes, the performance seems right. But when her character takes on Scarlett O'Hara dimensions in wartime suffering and acts of betrayal, she seems young and overwhelmed, and her reactions come across as too modern to be true to the character's evolution as intended.

This anomaly results in a Becky Sharp who is not so much an ambitious social climber but a plucky heroine for the underclasses, a textbook example of a Tony Robbins motivational seminar. This transformation may seem endearing to those looking for nicely wrapped tales of triumph against all odds, but it doesn't lend credibility to the more pointed satire and harsher criticisms that Thackeray had in mind when he wrote the book. For example, Becky's gambler husband, Rawdon Crawley, is really more of a ne'er-do-well whose departure in the story should be viewed somewhat as relief, but as played by James Purefoy, he is a romantic figure who is guilt-ridden over his failure to provide for his family. The change could have been acceptable were it not for the fact that his character is discarded in an almost matter-of-fact way. The same sketchy treatment is given to Becky's only friend, Amelia Sedley, played by Romola Garai, who is set up as a contrast to Becky and comes across as a wet rag for much of the story. But the film transforms her into a brave widow whose romantic resolution at the end strains credibility. Somehow Purefoy and Garai acquit themselves admirably regardless.

There are many fine performances in the smaller roles. Worth mentioning are Jim Broadbent as roguish George Osborne's unforgiving father, Bob Hoskins as the clownishly pitiable Sir Pitt; Gabriel Byrne as the territorially devious Marquess of Steyne, and Geraldine McEwan's helium-voiced Lady Southdown. Best of all is the mordantly witty Eileen Atkins, who seems to understand the tone of Thackeray's story better than anyone else, and lends a dotty authority to the role of Aunt Mathilde, serving as the primary catalyst of Becky's social escalation much to her later regret. Great acting aside, the film's length does have a wearing effect since the climax does not bear the emotional weight of everything that has gone before it, and unfortunately the plot strands get wrapped up much too quickly at the end to make the story truly resonate. That's a shame since there is so much creative energy obviously at work here. As for the extras on the 2005 DVD, the major inclusion is Nair's illuminating commentary, which focuses more on the technical aspects of the film. There are also two featurettes - the first is "Welcome to Vanity Fair", a behind-the-scenes look at the production that appears to be a marketing tool to convince viewers of the contemporary nature of the story, and the second "The Women of Vanity Fair", which focuses on Nair's largely female crew.

If there's one thing I'm getting tied of it's the old the-movie's-not- exatly-like-the-book complaint. Of course not. If every movie was like the book they would all be unbearably long and BORING. Artistic license must be taken, and allowed by the viewing public. You purists most learn to enjoy movies based on books for what they are.

I love this movie. I'm glad Reese Witherspoon made Becky a more likeable character. She's still plenty "bad" enough.

Bravo, Reese!! And everyone connected with this film.