Reviewed - Becoming Jane:This romantic speculation on the early life of a great writer is enjoyable, though the otherwise sensible Anne Hathaway lacks a certain persuasion as plain Jane, writes Donald Clarke
IT IS a truth universally acknowledged that a film studio in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a Jane Austen adaptation. Julian Jarrold's smooth, beguiling treatment of a romantic incident from the writer's early life owes its existence less to the continuing popularity of the novels than to the adulation bestowed on the abundant TV and film versions.
The costumes and set dressing in Becoming Jane certainly nod towards Joe Wright's agreeably grubby 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice, in which every Bennett looked as if he or she at least knew one end of a sheep from another. Jarrold's film, shot in Ireland on a modest budget, is not quite that soiled, but I am fairly sure I saw a pig or two hanging about the living quarters. Sadly, Anne Hathaway, who does her very best as Jane, comes coated in such a hard, gleaming varnish that she proves utterly resistant to any attempts at muddying up.
The film, working from a much argued over biographical fragment, supposes that Austen briefly dallied with an Anglo-Irish lawyer (James McAvoy) before devoting herself to a life of staring out windows and writing humblingly elegant prose. Featuring countless allusions to incidents in the novels, the plot is, in short, yet another origin tale in the style of Batman Begins, Casino Royale, Hannibal Rising and - a less facetious comparison, you'll agree - the considerably more anaemic Miss Potter.
McAvoy and Hathaway, both of whom have enough natural sparkle to stand out from the drab conformists around them, form an agreeable enough romantic partnership. The handheld camera moves about the countryside to create moments of unexpected grace, and the supporting cast - Julie Walters, James Cromwell, other good sports - add grit and character to the film's more obscure corners.
There is, however, no escaping the weirdness of Miss Hathaway's casting. The star of The Princess Diaries is a decent actress to be sure, but with teeth like scrabble tiles, lips like draft excluders and the polished manner of a SoHo gallery assistant, she could no more be mistaken for an 19th-century parson's daughter than she could be mistaken for an orang-utan.
