It seems every day of the week is crammed, leaving little time for rest and relaxation. And when it’s nice out on the weekend, I feel obliged to get outside and soak up the sunshine. Sometimes, though, I want a damp, miserable winter day. It’s the perfect excuse to snuggle up on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate, a fuzzy blanket, and a good movie. These are my go-to period pieces and romances on a lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon.
Ophelia
A couple starting points: Tom Felton is tragically under-utilized as Laertes, and Daisy Ridley—the Star Wars actress who I though transitioned nicely away from the science fiction genre toward a softer, more feminine character when she appeared as Mary Debenham in Ken Brannagh’s Murder on the Orient Express—would not have been my first choice for the titular character. Sure, this Ophelia is a grittier version of Shakespeare’s character. But as a romantic, it’s her co-star George MacKay who pulls the weight.
I know what you’re thinking. Why would you start off writing about your favourite movie with a complaint about the leading actress? I had to get that off my chest. It’s the only thing I struggled with, but I do genuinely love this movie. The real reason? It watches like a symphony. Stephen Price’s soundtrack is hauntingly beautiful. My sister and I felt it was an ode to Shakespeare that the lyrics were actually lines from a love letter Hamlet wrote to Ophelia. Hamlet meant a lot to both of us. We shared a literature teacher in high school who had an unparalleled passion for the play that she passed down, which is why these little things have so much meaning.
The costuming and set design is also exquisite. Massimo Cantini Parrini took inspiration from the Pre Raphaelites when he designed the sweeping jewel-toned gowns worn by the leading ladies. As a lover of all things art and history, this nod to the bohemian circle of artists was a tear-jerker. When Ridley appears in her waterlogged ivory gown, clutching a handful of wildflowers and floating lifeless on the pond, she’s instantly recognizable as Ophelia as she was portrayed by John Everett Millais. There’s so much rich history behind this painting—one you’ll be familiar with if you’ve ever read Kate Forsyth’s Beauty in Thorns.
I’m no Shakespeare purist. So the fact that Ophelia shows what else could have gone on behind the curtain makes this, in my opinion, a vibrant retelling through the eyes of the women who were so often left out of the original story.
Emma
Emma is one of those rare period pieces that successfully pulls itself off as a comedy without sacrificing its plot. Pride and Prejudice is a favourite with my sister and I (side note: is it weird that I find Matthew Macfadyen swoon-worthy when the only other character of his that I can summon to mind is a monk?), and Emma has all of its grace, without taking itself too seriously.
Josh O’Connor as the pastor, Mr Elton, is a hoot. His wife—a clucking hen of a woman—is so cringe-worthy one can’t help but be amused by her on-screen presence. And of course, Bill Nighy as Mr Woodhouse is arguably the leading comic. His fear of drafts and chills never fails to leave me in stitches. But I digress. Emma Woodhouse is handsome, clever and rich. She has no desire to marry, for she is already mistress of her own domain. She fancies herself a matchmaker, but she is quite oblivious to her own perfect match—the man who lives next door. And yet in this perfect world of hers, something is amiss.
The first time I saw Emma, I thought Mr Knightley was unpalatably rude. But with time I, like Emma, fell head over heels for him. He’s an adorable ragamuffin who walks everywhere he goes because he enjoys the fresh air, rescues damsels from distress on the dance floor, and stands up to the woman he fancies when she shows her snarky side. When he confesses his love for Emma in the garden, my sister and I agree that it was in a manner only marginally better than Mr Darcy’s feeble attempt to propose to Elizabeth Bennett. (But two lovebirds in the rain are sooo romantic. It’s hard to resist poor Mr Darcy dripping wet and gazing upon Lizzy most ardently.) Emma is everything I love about Jane Austen.
Little Women
I cherish Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of Little Women. It’s about childish innocence overshadowing the stark reality of a woman’s place in the world. It’s girlish and goofy at times. It’s a coming of age story where you get to see Saiorse Ronan as Jo March refuse to give up her ambitions and conform to expectations, and still end up happy in the end. A rare occurrence indeed in an era where society punished women for such rebelliousness as wanting to write. (Show of hands here, who else thinks they’d have wound up a literary spinster?)
I know that how Jo’s story ended is not what Louisa May Alcott intended. When Jo wound up with a boorish German professor who materialized out of thin air, it left fans disappointed, even in the 1860s. But that’s not how Greta Gerwig interprets the story. She apparently saw much more in the character of Amy than anyone else, and went to great lengths to show her maturation. Most people don’t want Amy to have a redemption arc, but Gerwig gives it to her. In doing so, she gives this classic story new life. Jo is a fireball one can’t help but admire. And it’s hard to imagine Emma Watson playing the happy housewife as Meg, but she pulls it off. Also, Timothée Chalamet’s Laurie, for all his vices, manages to charm his way into every scene.