I'm not
a puritan. I believe if an adaptation manages to capture the heart
and soul of the author's original vision, even if it doesn't follow
it page for page, it can improve on an already excellent work. This
is what I feel Douglas McGrath has done with Charles Dickens' Nicholas
Nickleby, a two hour thought-provoking period film with an
all-star ensemble cast of some of Britain and Hollywood's finest
thespians and a climactic, unexpected, spiritual ending. The story
opens with the birth of Nicholas to his loving parents, and
eventually the addition of a beautiful younger sister, Kate. In his
nineteenth year his father passes away, his last dying wish that his
family should be taken care of by his wealthy older brother Ralph.
The Nicklebys travel to London, but find Ralph (Christopher Plummer)
a cold and conniving benefactor.
Under
the pretense of compassion through family ties, he finds Kate (Romola
Garai) a job as a seamstress and sends Nicholas (Charlie Hunnam)
away to teach at the boarding school of Mr. and Mrs. Squeers (Juliet
Stevenson and Jim Broadbent, in respectively callous roles). Life at
the school, which is more suited to that of a workhouse than a
scholastic institution, is intolerable. The boys are mistreated,
ill-fed, and abused regularly with a rod, particularly the pitiful
cripple Smike (Jamie Bell). At first Nicholas bows to authority and
says nothing, though holds a brooding fury toward the cruelty of his
employers. When Smike makes an attempt to run away, he is brought
back to be humiliated and "flogged within an inch of his
life." It's the last straw. Nicholas finally takes a vocal
stand, gives the schoolmaster himself the lash, and strikes out on
his own with the loyal and thankful servant-boy at his side. But his
concern is profound -- if Ralph sent him to such a horrible place,
what has he done with Kate??
Back
in London, she faces similar strife when her uncle seeks to use her
as a ploy to influence one of his wealthiest clients (Nicholas
Rowe), much to her humiliation as well as the discomfort of his
other investors. Instead of Lord Verisopht, she attracts the lustful
advances of Sir Muldeberry Hawke (Edward Fox). None are willing to
defend her honor. Helplessly, Kate must take matters into her own
hands and pray for the swift return of her brother before the stakes
become too high and her good name is ruined forever.
Nicholas
Nickleby
is only the second adaptation and directorial triumph of
Douglas McGrath. Based on this and his wonderful success with Emma,
I hope he continues to adapt the classics. He is one of the few directors
who shows restraint when it is needed, yet does not fail to make the
conflicts within the hero's life suitably obvious. He makes us loathe and
hate the villains without being subjected to overly graphic material,
which is far more effective and shows superior writing talents. The
dialogue is poetic, wrought with wit, and always impacting. Interwoven
with the deep drama, are splashes of humor -- the theatre troupe's
production of Romeo & Juliet, some of the banter between Uncle
Ralph and his tipsy but goodhearted clerk, even some dry reactions from
the one-eyed Squeers.
Though the
moments of lighthearted humor create a restful tranquility between the
deep drama, this is not a comedy act. It's a compelling look at the very
root of evil and the eventual downfall it brings to a man enslaved by it.
Few villains have the distinction of being so purposefully cruel as Ralph
Nickleby, a man who chooses to inflict pain for the sheer pleasure of it.
The casting is brilliant. Chrisopher Plummer plays Ralph with such tainted
pleasure that we learn to loathe him but also in the end to pity the mess
he has made of his life. Charlie Hunnam, in the role of Nicholas, is
exceptional; few young men can blend in with a Victorian environment. He
was born to star in costume dramas. Anne Hathaway, Romola Garai (Daniel
Deronda), and Jamie Bell, along with an enormous supporting cast
(everyone from Nathan Lane to Nicholas Rowe) were superb. There's not a
weak actor in the lot.
The
hero is in every way above reproach -- he refutes lies with a
swift tongue, takes compassion on his enemies, and displays
justice instead of vengeance. Spiritual truths begin to bleed
through the fabric of the adaptation, which also has one
insightful addition by the director -- a hymn sung about God's
grace and glory at a pivotal moment at the climax. I would highly
recommend it to both Dickens enthusiasts and those who simply
enjoy morality plays. Much like another excellent adaptation, Les
Misérables,
Nicholas Nickleby does have elements that make it
unsuitable for younger children. Most of it is not overly
problematic but bears mentioning.
Everyone
will cringe at the treatment of the boys at Squeer's school. They
are abused for no reason other than pure spite. Nicholas finally
takes the schoolmaster's rod and beats him with it but stops at
the point of justice without falling into retribution. "I'm going to give you what
you never once gave to these boys," he confides;
"compassion." When confronting the man who has been making
inappropriate advances toward his sister, he inflicts little
physical punishment but warns him next time he will not be so
lenient. Thematic content includes a man hanging himself (implied)
and the death of a main character. After the opening credits we
briefly see male infant nudity as well as an umbilical cord being
snipped. Hawk purposefully humiliates Kate over dinner with a
lengthy debate on whether or not she's upset that no man at the
table is "making love to her." (Historically the term
was used in reference to wooing rather than sexual activity.) He
corners her in a theater box (conveniently arranged by her devious
uncle) and tries to kiss her. Later he shows a keen interest in
marriage with another young woman as a part of a business
arrangement.
Kate
eventually stands up to her uncle, saying she will trust in God to watch
over them, for she will not accept his financial aid as long as she is
subjected to such immodesties. Nicholas' virtue also encourages honorable
responses from others -- after witnessing him "defend his sister's
honor," another of Ralph's investors retaliates with his own disgust
over the situation. We have seen him disturbed before now, but never
courageous enough to speak against his partners. (A magnificent
display of how not wanting to become "involved" when the issue
of morality is at stake can actually lend itself to greater evils.)
What makes the
story carry such weight is the fact that all of this is tied to Uncle
Ralph -- we wonder at his motivations in subjecting his niece to such
immoral company, in his singular cruelty, and at the surprising twist
Dickens throws our way in the final half. He's a moral paradox demanding
of scrutiny and his black heart burns like a pyre in the background as the
story progresses. In the end, we have not only explored the empty
bitterness of a life bound by self-inflicted cruelty but also seen the
glowing light of virtue. The world would be a far better place if more
young men were raised with the same high moral standard of honor, justice,
and virtue as
Nicholas Nickleby.