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, 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.