#Title
OPINION
What’s missing from quirky period dramas?
SHABABA IQBAL
The ‘90s offered something of a renaissance of period dramas, particularly with meticulous screen adaptations of Jane Austen’s beloved novels. While filming 1995’s Sense and Sensibility , Emma Thompson, who wrote the screenplay and starred as Elinor Dashwood, agonised over line changes and refused producers’ pleas to “novelise” her script and sell it as an “update”.
Fast forward two decades and a new type of period drama is taking over today. Filmmakers are ditching accuracy and precision in a move to cater to Millennials and Gen Z audiences. Young and “good-looking” actors are cast, contemporary music is played in ballroom scenes, and the flirting and sex are ramped up. From the language to the set design to the score, forays into period drama are increasingly spiced up with modernity to both delightful and disappointing effects.
The Austen-inspired Bridgerton (2020)—Netflix’s Regency-set romance based on Julia Quinn’s novels published from 2000 to 2006—uses candy-coloured costumes and an idealised depiction of race in society, featuring prominent Black and South Asian characters and motifs like string quartets playing Ariana Grande covers instead of period waltzes. Lady Whistledown, A Gossip Girl -esque scandal sheet narrator, dominates the plot.
Since its release, Bridgerton has proven to be as controversial as it is popular. It explores race and representation in the early 19th century through the Duke of Hastings, a Black man named Simon Basset (Regé-Jean Page) in Season 1, and Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley) in Season 2, an Indian. But in a rush to be inclusive, it glaringly overlooks nuances. A controversial scene in Season 1 depicts the sexual assault of a Black man by a white woman in a context where the inverse was a narrative that used to kill Black men. This is appalling, to say the least.
“Sharma”, Kate’s surname on the show, is a common name among upper-caste Indians—and herein lies the problem. In celebrations of representation, the notion of being an “Indian” continues to be cemented in the upper-caste Hindu mould in popular culture and media. And even though it is appreciable that Hollywood is showcasing diversity in a genre that has long been greatly fronted by white characters, in its bid to be a light, frothy, and visually pleasant show, Bridgerton does not meaningfully address these complex issues.
Emma. (2020), starring Anya Taylor-Joy as the titular smart, wealthy, and meddlesome matchmaker, is a great example of a period film that incorporates subtle contemporary influences into the personality and costume design of characters. This adaptation is distinguished by its commitment to snarky retorts and a bright aesthetic, as seen in Emma’s flashy mustard yellow gown and extravagant black hat with yellow feathers.
Emma and Mr Knightley’s relationship is also edgier in the film, more socially acceptable. There are dance scenes without gloves, fleeting male nudity, and kisses when the girl’s father is present in the room. She has her widowed, neurotic father to care for—or is that just her excuse to live as free of constraints as any man? It’s a radical notion for the Regency era, and Taylor-Joy relishes in Emma’s snobbery and callousness, confounding expectations of how a young lady of fortune should behave. Such playfulness is in keeping with the spirit of the book and with Austen’s humour. Nevertheless, Emma. falls at a risk of being so highly stylised and goofy that it loses many of the deeper layers of the novel.
The recent Netflix adaptation of Austen’s Persuasion (2022) plays like a romantic comedy rather than a complex, sombre story about second chances at love. In the film, protagonist Anne Elliot (Dakota Johnson) ends up in several contrived circumstances on her quest to win back her “ex”. Breaking the fourth wall, she cheekily addresses the audience after comments from her family members, which seems nonsensical for the introverted and dejected Anne we know from the novel. She has been turned into the awkward yet sassy and vivacious heroine that has been popping up in recent, contemporary period dramas. Trying too hard to be quirky, the film widely fails to capture the tone of the book. This points to a prevailing issue in adaptations of classic novels today where studios seem to think female characters need to be glossed with a “zany” and “feisty” persona in order to be relevant.
It appears that in warping period pieces on screen into colourful, digestible, and clickable content for Millennial and Gen Z viewers, filmmakers are doing a disservice not only to historical and literary texts, but also to the audience that they are, apparently, so desperate to attract.
Shababa Iqbal is a contributor to Daily Star Books. Email: siqbal.tds@gmail.com.