How bad is Autumn De Wilde’s adaptation of Emma? The awful Miranda Hart has a “comic” turn in it as Mrs Bates, that’s how bad. Anya Taylor -Joy takes the lead as Emma Woodhouse, depicting her as the spoilt, unlikeable gossiping brat with a peripatetic accent, who spends all her time matchmaking and studiously trying to avoid the poor. I’d quite like to kick her face in.
Would that she could see the seeds of chaos that she’s sowing. She’s supposed to be naive, but is instead completely one -note: insufferably smug. It’s pretty thin and insipid stuff, coming across like a parody of a parody, a series of ill-judged sketches than bear no reality to the time and place of Austen, where women’s options were limited. It really fails to unpack the issues of social climbing and etiquette within society.
Even Johnny Flynn, who is reasonable as a suitably embittered Mr Knightley, or the ever- enjoyable Bill Nighy as Emma’s Papa, cannot redeem this bloated pudding of a film. I found myself longing for a little “rolling with the homies” interlude. As starchy and stiff as the collars and crinolines therein. What an utter waste of talent. I may vomit into my bonnet.
Hit The North 