Pelisse Inspection of Mansfield Park

Fig. 1. Costume designs for an Austen project during my design undergraduate at IADT; clockwise from top left; Elinor Dashwood (Kristin Stewart), Mary Crawford (Scarlett Johansson), Mrs Norris (Christina Hendricks), and Elizabeth Bennet (Emma Watson).

In my third year studying Costume Design at IADT, our small group of worker bees was assigned my dream project. Given ten of Jane Austen’s characters along with a scene from their novel, we were tasked with bringing them to life through sketchbooks, historical/sartorial research, textual analysis, personal interpretation, and final designs. In my element, (I have been a huge fan of Jane Austen as far as I can remember), I quickly set to learning as much as I could about reticules, glove etiquette, spencers, pelisses, muslin gowns and whitework embroidery. Our lecturer ‘cast’ actors for each role so that we had to design around various body shapes, heights, and weights. While I didn’t agree with all of these casting choices, (Aunt Norris would have been flattered) I loved designing within the barriers of character, actor, and period.

Indulging in all things Austen this week in preparation for a class on Mansfield Park, I have been thinking of the many modes through which I’ve consumed Austen throughout the years. From dress history and costume design to film adaptations and simple re-readings, I love how her characters and writing remain fresh no matter how many times I reread them. But of course, Austen’s acerbic wit and narrative innovation are more modern than many realise. A master of free indirect discourse, Austen manages to seamlessly weave in and out of various characters’ minds, combining elements of first- and third-person narration that allow readers to access in a single page, the thoughts and feelings of a cast of characters. Innately cinematic, it’s not surprising that her style offers directors and critics that hermeneutic freedom that has enriched film and scholarship in the intervening years. Her novels undoubtedly lend themselves to endless and diverse interpretation. In the world of stage and screen, adaptations range from the comic, (Cariad Lloyd’s Austentatious), to the modern (Clueless/Bridget Jones), and the classic (Ang Lee’s Sense and Sensibility), to the feminist (perhaps Mansfield Park 1999?). You could argue that most of the golden era of 1990s Austen adaptations approach her work from a feminist angle, accentuating those societal themes so inherent in her texts. But this last film, Patricia Rozema’s Mansfield Park, arguably closes the gilded age of the 90s period drama in a typically proto-feminist reworking.

The decade that gave us the likes of the above-mentioned Sense and Sensibility in 1995, BBC’s Pride and Prejudice of the same year (and many memes), and the impossibly idyllic Emma of 1996, culminates here in a rather bleak and socially driven depiction of Austen’s most controversial, possibly least popular, novel from 1814. Set within the visibly decaying edifice of a grey Mansfield Park, Rozema’s film overtly ties the estate’s near ruin to the crumbling conventions it’s built upon. Mansfield’s sister estate in Antigua, and the transactional marriages of the young Price/Bertrams, are figured as the unstable and dangerous institutions we now know them to be, with the hindsight of two centuries. Released six years after Edward Said’s Culture and Imperialism with its famous chapter on Mansfield Park (“Jane Austen and Empire”), Rozema course corrects on the theme of slavery so inherent in the novel’s name. Lord Mansfield of course ushered in the Mansfield Judgment in 1772 which gave rights to escaped slaves in England not to be forcibly removed and sold abroad. A legal anomaly, this Judgment (also called the Somerset Case) essentially outlawed slavery on British soil but ignored its legality elsewhere in the British empire.Said’s assertion that characters return to the spectre of slavery like the compulsive return of the repressed, can be backed up by instances in the novel where characters unexpectedly call attention to its absent presence - Aunt Norris considers herself “slaving” to finish Rushworth’s costume (155), while “Miss Crawford was not the slave of opportunity” (332). But while Austen’s characters, by their silence, seem to pretend this “modern-built house” (43) exists independently of the Antiguan plantation, in Rozema’s film, slavery evidently haunts Mansfield’s conscionable characters and disintegrating architecture.

Where Fanny’s question about the “slave trade” and its answering “dead silence” (184) has been interpreted variously by critics, Rozema posits the novel’s ambiguous treatment of Fanny’s “curiosity and pleasure” (184) in hearing her uncle’s tales of the West Indies as vocal abolitionist beliefs. Her uncertain comment (“I love to hear my uncle talk of the West Indies … It entertains me more than many other things have done” (183)) is likely neither that of the abolitionist or the pro-slavery but as George E. Boulukos believes, that of the ameliorationist, where Fanny could possibly conceive of Sir Thomas as the moral plantation owner who directly conducts business at his estate and is responsible for the well-being of those dependents who would be worse off without him (373). With this sort of nebulous and uncomfortable territory, Rozema takes the safer path of highlighting historical injustices, but retains ambiguity in Edmund’s character. He is the voice of the Regency conservative, aware simultaneously of the evils of slavery, but hypocritically concerned that if the plantation fails, so too does the Park. Tom Bertram - the prodigal, spendthrift eldest son – is instead presented as the reluctant successor to his father’s West Indian property, drinking to numb the horrors witnessed abroad, so vividly captured in the sketchbook Fanny finds. While much of this can seem sensational to a contemporary audience, and certainly departs radically from Austen’s original, it was important in the wake of Said’s seminal essay to portray those aspects of the novel that for so long went unobserved.

As Fanny’s character too is transformed, from serious and submissive to energetic and spirited, her newfound proto-feminism makes a somewhat easier protagonist to root for. Evidently Fanny’s perceived passivity was too much risk for a modern audience, so Rozema instead combines elements of Jane Austen’s own life and personality to create an interesting hybrid character that further positions Fanny as a liminal figure. Not only is she an aspiring writer and devourer of books, but Fanny also accepts Henry Crawford’s proposal before changing her mind overnight, in a direct parallel to Austen’s own life. Rozema takes artistic licence also in eliminating William and substituting Susan instead. Furthermore, the same actor plays both Lady Bertram and her sister (Fanny’s mother) Mrs Price. This accentuates the class commentary underpinning the novel, where the two sisters closely resemble each other in everything but situation - Mrs Price’s “disposition was naturally indolent, like Lady Bertram’s” and “a situation of similar affluence and do-nothingness would have been much more suited to her capacity than the exertions and self-denials of the one which her imprudent marriage had placed her in” (Austen 364). William, Susan, and Fanny arguably rise in favour to become the morally acceptable inheritors of the Bertram name where the Bertrams themselves either fall from grace or stagnate. William’s career is ever-progressing, Susan indispensably ensconced at the Park, and Fanny of course a permanent fixture by the novel’s dénouement, if at the peripheral parsonage. But the elision of William, such an important character to Fanny in the novel, is an interesting move. Many see Edmund as the brother surrogate for William, so in removing him altogether from the narrative, I’m not sure whether Rozema strengthens or weakens the cousin’s fraternal bond. I think for modern audiences, the link between William and Edmund would be an uncomfortable one, where the latter is seen as almost a romantic successor to the former. Fanny of course considers William and Edmund “the two most beloved of her heart” (Austen 252) and in wearing the former’s cross with the latter’s gold chain, she literally links the three together.

I was surprised to find on this latest re-read how many times various characters refer to the possible future connection between Fanny and Edmund as unnatural or unlikely. Aunt Norris (though wrong in most things) believes such an alliance “morally impossible” (4), Sir Thomas flusters he knows “that is quite out of the question” (293), and as the narrator consistently draws attention to Edmund’s brotherly attentions, Mary Crawford highlights their physical similarity – “You have a look of his sometimes” (157). But to me the most interesting part is when Fanny recoils in horror at Henry and Maria’s “sin of the first magnitude”, “revolted” that “both families [were] connected as they were by tie upon tie; all friends, all intimate together” (Austen 413). In Rozema’s film, this intimacy is portrayed on screen where the novel lets it play offstage. This effectively allows the greater of two evils, at least in Fanny’s mind, eclipse the rather staid union between the two cousins, which like the book, removes any hint of passion and most romance. What remains is a (very) close-knit family unit, which seems to shrink from society and retreat within the confines of its crumbling precincts to protect what remains of its legacy. While some critics believe the endogamous marriage “is symbolic of Austen's sceptical attitude towards a new age, moral transvaluations, and radical change” (Hudson 61), casual readers might agree with her sister Cassandra in lamenting the marriages that never were between Fanny and Henry, and Edmund and Mary.

Fig. 2. Still of Fanny and Edmund divided by Mary Crawford from the film Mansfield Park by Patricia Rozema, 1999, cinematography by Michael Coulter.

But just a final note on how film translates Austen for modern audiences, and allows us to easily inhabit her characters. Inhabit is an interesting word, because it is in seeing characters wear those habits of the Regency era, that we fully appreciate the constraints on behaviour and character. In the 1999 film, Fanny is not the frail, headache-prone character of the novel, but a lively protagonist who could lend her name to the film’s title. I would argue this has much to do with the film’s use of costume, which can often be forgotten in modern readings of Austen. The Regency age of fashion was a little less restrictive than popular opinion might have you believe. Corsets, or stays as they were then called, were more of a personal preference than an imperative, and not necessarily worn on an everyday basis owing to the new style of bodice which modelled itself on neo-classical empire lines. This trend favoured a very low bust and contrastingly high waist, meaning the fabric would hang loosely from the underbust down, creating a statuesque column effect that required little to no waist shaping. Of course, corsets could still be worn if a lady so desired, but these were far from the whaleboned Victorian contraptions so harmful to health. Sometimes a simple ribbon under the bust sufficed, or a corded or boned chemise, might do just as well. In Rozema’s film, Fanny wears loose apron-style dresses over flowing white chemises, which don’t appear to conceal traditional stays. But as she matures, her silhouette changes. In one scene after a rain shower, we see Fanny unpeel her outer layers to an unnecessary and slightly anachronistic corset, in a mildly sapphic scene that hints above all at Mary’s ‘worldliness’. Mary in this version certainly aligns with Despotopoulou’s idea of a woman who “renders herself the object of the male gaze at every opportunity” (575). Wearing exclusively dark navy and black, with white collars and lacy sleeves, she fashions herself as an object of desire that appeals especially to Edmund as a sort of feminine counterpart to the clergyman’s robes.

Fig. 3. Still of Mary Crawford in secular monochrome from Mansfield Park by Patricia Rozema, 1999, cinematography by Michael Coulter.

Now, full disclosure – I wrote my undergraduate thesis on the Easter bonnet. But I think there is much to learn about characters from the clothes they wear, and this film uses clothing to interesting effect. The female characters for instance, are not hindered from horse-riding, Fanny even (gasp) rides astride in one scene. But clothing does seem to limit the male characters to some degree. Thanks to Beau Brummel, more men in this period were adopting the starched collars and cravats that restricted the neck as much as the ruff of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Edmund’s eyes seem to travel the room more than his neck, which at times has a look of the brace about it. This heavily starched, white-linen bound neck can be seen as a clever sartorial hint to his character, and a training for the even stiffer white collar to come. But it is Mr Rushworth’s appearance that perfectly encapsulates all that is glorious and ridiculous in some of Austen’s male characters. Vain, foppish, and foolish, it is only the last trait that signals him out as a poor husband for Maria despite his £12,000 a year. His enthusiasm for the “blue dress and a pink satin cloak” followed by “another fine fancy suit, by way of a shooting-dress” (Austen 130) is here translated into Beau Brummell’s mirror image, complete with his, let’s just say distinct, hairstyle.

Fig. 4. Still of Mr Rushworth’s Beau Brummell coiffure from Mansfield Park by Patricia Rozema, 1999, cinematography by Michael Coulter.

Overall I think this film offers some very interesting insights into themes which can be forgotten in Austen’s text. While Rozema’s screenplay at times overstates her point, it is nonetheless a valuable addition and end to the 90s Austenian adaptation. Where the novel’s heroine finds refuge in nature and waxes rhapsodic over stars or fallen trees, the 1999 film presents “that independence of spirit” which Sir Thomas finds so “offensive and disgusting” in young women (295). I have devoured essays over the last week on topics as diverse as landscape, slavery, disability, incest, spectatorship, empire, the ‘rake’, Regency divorce, Lord Mansfield, Lady Penrhyn, estate conservation, ha-has, amateur theatricals, the importance of muslin, Humphrey Repton, and of course, pugs. One thing is certain, Jane Austen’s classic, though problematic, is a richly drawn and intricate narrative that invites as many interpretations as Mr Rushworth has pounds in the bank.

Fig. 5. Still of Rushworth from Mansfield Park by Patricia Rozema, 1999, cinematography by Michael Coulter.

Works Cited

Austen, Jane. Mansfield Park. 1814. Headline Review, 2006.

Boulukos, George E. “The Politics of Silence: "Mansfield Park" and the Amelioration of Slavery.” NOVEL: A Forum on Fiction, vol. 39, no. 3, 2006, pp. 361-383. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/40267669.

Burton, Tara Isabella. “In Defense of Fanny Price.” The Paris Review, 10 July 2014,

www.theparisreview.org/blog/2014/07/10/in-defense-of-fanny-price/.

Despotopoulou, Anna. “Fanny's Gaze and the Construction of Feminine Space in "Mansfield Park."

The Modern Language Review, 2004, vol. 99, no. 3, 2004, pp. 569-583. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/3738987.

Hudson, Glenda A. “Incestuous Relationships: Mansfield Park Revisited.” Eighteenth-Century Fiction, vol. 4, no. 1, 1991, pp. 53-68. Project Muse, doi.org/10.1353/ecf.1991.0009.

Minott-Ahl, Nicola. “Does Jane Austen Write Screenplays? Mansfield Park and the Dilemma of Jane Austen in Film.”

Quarterly Review of Film and Video, vol. 29, no. 3, 2012, pp. 252-267. Taylor & Francis, doi-org.ucc.idm.oclc.org/

10.1080/10509200903077650.

Murray, Douglas. “Spectatorship in Mansfield Park: Looking and Overlooking.” Nineteenth-Century Literature, vol. 52,

no. 1, 1997, pp. 1-26. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/2934027.

Mansfield Park. Directed by Patricia Rozema, performances by Frances O’Connor, Jonny Lee Miller, Harold Pinter,

Lindsay Duncan, Embeth Davidtz, Alessandro Nivola, James Purefoy, Hugh Bonneville, and Victoria Hamilton, Miramax, 1999.

Said, Edward. “Jane Austen and Empire.” Culture and Imperialism, Vintage Books, 1994.