The Personal History of David Copperfield (Film Review)
This was the first movie I saw in the cinema since February, and I've been curious about it for a year now. It's, as advertised, a breathless, fast paced, wildly inventive version of David Copperfield, directed by Armado Ianucci, with a great cast multiethnic cast (colourblind in the British stage sense, hence, for example, Nikki Amuka-Bird as Mrs. Steerforth - who in this version is an amalgan of herself and Rosa Dartle - and Aneurin Barnard as her son).
In practically every interview I'd seen at the time this was released in Britain last year, our director emphasizes wanting to do justice to the hilarity of Dickens (something lost in some other adaptions), with the scene of drunk David (Dev Patel) at the theatre running into Agnes being a prime example.
This intention certainly was fulfilled, though in order to keep the lighthearted tone throughout, Iannucci had to ignore several of the novel's deaths and trust that the great speed of the film makes it impossible for the audience to linger on just how awful some of the events are. For example: in the novel, the destruction of David's carefree early childhood happens in several steps. First the psychoterror by stepdad Murdstone (and here what makes it extra awful is what Mr. Murdstone does to David's mother in addition to David, gaslighting her and terrorizing her and destroying every bit of self worth sense she has), then David gets send to his first school, then his mother dies, then he ends up at the bottle factory (and meets the Micawbers etc.), then he goes to Dover and ends up with his aunt. In the movie, the image of Mr. Murdstone's hand coming down on the paper house that the Peggottys' boat house is suddenly revealed at already sums up what will happen to David's home and life. We get the "teaching" scene, the beating, but then immediately fast foward to David being sent to the bottle factory (no first school interlude, which is why David won't meet Steerforth until he's already Dev Patel shaped) and meets the Micawbers. Mr. Micawber is played by Peter Capaldi in hilarious form, and the comedy of him avoiding his creditors dispenses with the lingering horror of home life a la Murdstone; even the child labor at the bottle factory is more picturesque than anything else. (Though Ianucci will get into the long term effect of this in a way that's not in the novel but very much in the life of Charles Dickens, more about this in a moment.) The two people who still die in the film are David's mother and Steerforth, but not Ham, nor Dora. Dora, breaking the fourth wall, asks David to write her out of the story since she "doesn't fit" instead. I guess if you haven't read the book, you take this to mean she and David break up gently, having figured out in time their marriage would be a mistake. As opposed David realising this after the marriage, and while Dora conveniently dies, giving Agnes and David to each other on her deathbed, she doesn't die until that realisation as well and truly hit home. So on the one hand, this is definitely David Copperfield: The Fluffy Edition.
On the other, Iannucci does something more than rearrange the material the novel gives him so it fits in two hours screen time. David Copperfield the novel is more overtly autobiographical than anything else Dickens wrote, but it still is a novel, not a roman à clef, with the differences between Dickens and David as strong as the similarities. Charles Dickens: very much not an orphan. By splitting his parents into the ghastly Murdstones and the lovable Micawbers, he ensures that David can loathe the former and love the later without any ambiguity in either case, to name just one key difference. However, Iannuci's film, which emphasizes David being a writer far more than any other version I've seen, including the novel itself, uses elements from Dickens' life not in the book to flesh David out as a character. Starting, of course, with the very beginning, which is David saying the famous first line of the novel as part of a public reading he does, the way Dickens did (and made a great success of it). The bottle factory episode in David's life is painful to him while he lives through it in the book, but when it's over, he doesn't feel any lingering shame. Charles Dickens, on the other hand, felt intense shame over having worked at a bottle factory as a child, he could not pass the shop as an adult man and took another road to avoid it, he couldn't bring himself to tell his wife about it (even when things were good), and when he did try to write an actual autobiography, he didn't get much further than this episode before breaking it off and writing David Copperfield instead.
This intense, very much class related shame that Dickens felt and David in the novel did not once he was no longer there is given to David in the movie. And that factors directly into his relationship with Uriah Heep, even before Heep tries to blackmail him with it. Incidentally, I'd never have thought of Ben Wishaw for this part, but he's terrific in it. Iannucci's take on David and Uriah feels like he's read George Orwell's Dickens essay, in addition to adding his own spin on it. It's very much a "Uriah embodies all I dislike in myself" alter ego thing since the movie's David never quite recovers that sense of identity lost when he was put in the factory and feels like a social climbing con man himself as opposed to a "true gentleman" when he's back among the wealthy. (Sidenote: in previous incarnations, I could never get into David/Uriah, not least because David is still a child when meeting Uriah and is nothing but creeped out and disgusted by him. Otoh, in the movie they're already Patel and Wishaw when meeting, which removes that factor.) The film is also more on Uriah Heep's side than any other version, stating with an eager to fit in again with the wealthy teenage schoolboys David employing his talent for impersonation (again, something Charles Dickens - an enthusiastic amateur actor who performed his novels more than he read them - had, but novel!David Coppperfield doesn't as far as I recall) to deliver a performance of Uriah, and while Steerforth and the other youths laugh we see Uriah in the background. Nor is his accent as over the top as in the other versions I've seen. He's still a ruthless social climber (and criminal), but he's not grotesque anymore. (And now I could see David/Uriah hatesex for these versions.)
Speaking of the talent to impersonate, another trait of Charles Dickens given to the movie's David is the constant noting down interesting phrases he hears, the being in love with language, and that, the movie connects with Mr. Dick (Hugh Laurie in a radiant performance), so often just a bit of (additional) comic relief at Betsey Trotwood's, whereas here his mental illness comes across as another version of David's obsessions without a creative outlet. The kite flying is such an emotional release, and it also showcases David being kind in the best way. When David near the end of the film starts to write the book we're in, which he narrates on stage, we hear fragments from Dickens' novel again, showcasing him/Dickens as a masterful wordsmith. The film thus is about David becoming not the hero but the writer of his own life, or a writer in general, in a way the novel is not.
Even Mr. Micawber is used in connection to this general theme. Orwell in his essay critisizes that Dickens in the end makes Micawber turns over a new leaf and reform by emigrating to Australia with the Peggotys and becoming respectable. The movie's Micawber does not; in his last scene, he asks David for a loan again, thus, like Dickens' own father (who was in and out of debtor's prison constantly through Dickens' childhood and when Charles had become a famous writer, wasn't above forging his signature), remaing incorrigable. But the connection between con man and writer - which John Le Carré drew for himself and his own con man father in his memoirs published a few years ago - is there though the film, with adult David catching himself at starting to use the same excuses Micawber did to get out of tight spots (and most embarrasingly, Uriah Heep catches him at it, too). And by making Micawber (trying his hand at impersonation) the lower class teacher Steerforth humiliates at Strong's school by using information David has unwittingly given him earlier, this episode gets deeply personal for the Micawber-liking audience, which I thought was cleverly done. My one complaint re: Mr. Micawber is that his moment of supreme glory is no longer there, because he doesn't temporarily align with Heep. Thus, he can't the day by uncovering the proof that Heep has been responsible for Aunt Betsey's financial ruin and Mr. Wickfield's decline; instead, this is given to Agnes, presumably to give her more agency.
Lastly: having written David Copperfield fanfiction about her for Yuletide two years ago, I was curious how the film would deal (if at all) with Emily. First of all, during the childhood part, she's already a teenager when David is still a child, age wise between him and Ham. They play with each other, but there's no indication David crushes on her; instead, at the end of his first stay with the Pegottys, she already becomes engaged to Ham. (And then has apparently a ten years engagement, because she's still engaged when David brings Steerforth for a visit.) Otoh, within limited screen time, Emily's dream of being a lady is made clear while the movie roots her more physically than the novel does in her world of origin (we meet her when she's cleaning fish, and her hands are marked by hard work), and it's clear what happens when Steerforth shows up. Since I had reread the Emily passages for Yuletide in 2017, it had struck me then that even before Steerforth, the book makes it very clear Emily doesn't really want to marry Ham, she's doing it for her uncle and because everyone expects her to, but that Ham really is like a brother to her, and I wasn't sure whether that came across in the film, but never mind, it's a subplot. One thing I regretted was that Dev Patel and Aneurin Barnard - imo, as always - had no chemistry, because even teenage me when reading the novel thought there was a strong vibe between Steerforth and David and without homoerotic subtext, that relationship (and David being wilfully blind for a long time re: Steerforth's dark side, and even afterwards having strong feelings for him) doesn't really work. But: chemistry is in the eyes of the beholder.
Let's see, what else: I liked Rosalind Eleazar as Agnes, being so charming and radiant and confidant that it's a mystery why not everyone falls for her. Morfydd Clark does double duty as David's mother and Dora Spenlow - which makes even more sense in the novel because they are really a lot alike, which makes for an uncomfortable moment when David tries to teach Dora to be more practical and you suddenly remember Mr. Murdstone and his behaviour with David's mother - and the "write me out, Doady" moment has unexcpected subtle pathos if you are aware of Dickens' own private life and Dora's fate in the novel. Tilda Swinton makes for a great Betsey Trotwood, though I very much regret that her squaring off againsts the Murdstones does not happen in tihis film since this is my favourite Betsey Trotwood scene in the book. (It doesn't happen because David is no longer a child, he's a late teenager by the time he ends up with Aunt Betsey in the movie, and has just squared off against the Murdstones.)
In conclusion: great fun, very clever, and at times made me wish Iannucci would tackle Dickens himself in a biopic. This entry was originally posted at https://selenak.dreamwidth.org/1411177.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.
In practically every interview I'd seen at the time this was released in Britain last year, our director emphasizes wanting to do justice to the hilarity of Dickens (something lost in some other adaptions), with the scene of drunk David (Dev Patel) at the theatre running into Agnes being a prime example.
This intention certainly was fulfilled, though in order to keep the lighthearted tone throughout, Iannucci had to ignore several of the novel's deaths and trust that the great speed of the film makes it impossible for the audience to linger on just how awful some of the events are. For example: in the novel, the destruction of David's carefree early childhood happens in several steps. First the psychoterror by stepdad Murdstone (and here what makes it extra awful is what Mr. Murdstone does to David's mother in addition to David, gaslighting her and terrorizing her and destroying every bit of self worth sense she has), then David gets send to his first school, then his mother dies, then he ends up at the bottle factory (and meets the Micawbers etc.), then he goes to Dover and ends up with his aunt. In the movie, the image of Mr. Murdstone's hand coming down on the paper house that the Peggottys' boat house is suddenly revealed at already sums up what will happen to David's home and life. We get the "teaching" scene, the beating, but then immediately fast foward to David being sent to the bottle factory (no first school interlude, which is why David won't meet Steerforth until he's already Dev Patel shaped) and meets the Micawbers. Mr. Micawber is played by Peter Capaldi in hilarious form, and the comedy of him avoiding his creditors dispenses with the lingering horror of home life a la Murdstone; even the child labor at the bottle factory is more picturesque than anything else. (Though Ianucci will get into the long term effect of this in a way that's not in the novel but very much in the life of Charles Dickens, more about this in a moment.) The two people who still die in the film are David's mother and Steerforth, but not Ham, nor Dora. Dora, breaking the fourth wall, asks David to write her out of the story since she "doesn't fit" instead. I guess if you haven't read the book, you take this to mean she and David break up gently, having figured out in time their marriage would be a mistake. As opposed David realising this after the marriage, and while Dora conveniently dies, giving Agnes and David to each other on her deathbed, she doesn't die until that realisation as well and truly hit home. So on the one hand, this is definitely David Copperfield: The Fluffy Edition.
On the other, Iannucci does something more than rearrange the material the novel gives him so it fits in two hours screen time. David Copperfield the novel is more overtly autobiographical than anything else Dickens wrote, but it still is a novel, not a roman à clef, with the differences between Dickens and David as strong as the similarities. Charles Dickens: very much not an orphan. By splitting his parents into the ghastly Murdstones and the lovable Micawbers, he ensures that David can loathe the former and love the later without any ambiguity in either case, to name just one key difference. However, Iannuci's film, which emphasizes David being a writer far more than any other version I've seen, including the novel itself, uses elements from Dickens' life not in the book to flesh David out as a character. Starting, of course, with the very beginning, which is David saying the famous first line of the novel as part of a public reading he does, the way Dickens did (and made a great success of it). The bottle factory episode in David's life is painful to him while he lives through it in the book, but when it's over, he doesn't feel any lingering shame. Charles Dickens, on the other hand, felt intense shame over having worked at a bottle factory as a child, he could not pass the shop as an adult man and took another road to avoid it, he couldn't bring himself to tell his wife about it (even when things were good), and when he did try to write an actual autobiography, he didn't get much further than this episode before breaking it off and writing David Copperfield instead.
This intense, very much class related shame that Dickens felt and David in the novel did not once he was no longer there is given to David in the movie. And that factors directly into his relationship with Uriah Heep, even before Heep tries to blackmail him with it. Incidentally, I'd never have thought of Ben Wishaw for this part, but he's terrific in it. Iannucci's take on David and Uriah feels like he's read George Orwell's Dickens essay, in addition to adding his own spin on it. It's very much a "Uriah embodies all I dislike in myself" alter ego thing since the movie's David never quite recovers that sense of identity lost when he was put in the factory and feels like a social climbing con man himself as opposed to a "true gentleman" when he's back among the wealthy. (Sidenote: in previous incarnations, I could never get into David/Uriah, not least because David is still a child when meeting Uriah and is nothing but creeped out and disgusted by him. Otoh, in the movie they're already Patel and Wishaw when meeting, which removes that factor.) The film is also more on Uriah Heep's side than any other version, stating with an eager to fit in again with the wealthy teenage schoolboys David employing his talent for impersonation (again, something Charles Dickens - an enthusiastic amateur actor who performed his novels more than he read them - had, but novel!David Coppperfield doesn't as far as I recall) to deliver a performance of Uriah, and while Steerforth and the other youths laugh we see Uriah in the background. Nor is his accent as over the top as in the other versions I've seen. He's still a ruthless social climber (and criminal), but he's not grotesque anymore. (And now I could see David/Uriah hatesex for these versions.)
Speaking of the talent to impersonate, another trait of Charles Dickens given to the movie's David is the constant noting down interesting phrases he hears, the being in love with language, and that, the movie connects with Mr. Dick (Hugh Laurie in a radiant performance), so often just a bit of (additional) comic relief at Betsey Trotwood's, whereas here his mental illness comes across as another version of David's obsessions without a creative outlet. The kite flying is such an emotional release, and it also showcases David being kind in the best way. When David near the end of the film starts to write the book we're in, which he narrates on stage, we hear fragments from Dickens' novel again, showcasing him/Dickens as a masterful wordsmith. The film thus is about David becoming not the hero but the writer of his own life, or a writer in general, in a way the novel is not.
Even Mr. Micawber is used in connection to this general theme. Orwell in his essay critisizes that Dickens in the end makes Micawber turns over a new leaf and reform by emigrating to Australia with the Peggotys and becoming respectable. The movie's Micawber does not; in his last scene, he asks David for a loan again, thus, like Dickens' own father (who was in and out of debtor's prison constantly through Dickens' childhood and when Charles had become a famous writer, wasn't above forging his signature), remaing incorrigable. But the connection between con man and writer - which John Le Carré drew for himself and his own con man father in his memoirs published a few years ago - is there though the film, with adult David catching himself at starting to use the same excuses Micawber did to get out of tight spots (and most embarrasingly, Uriah Heep catches him at it, too). And by making Micawber (trying his hand at impersonation) the lower class teacher Steerforth humiliates at Strong's school by using information David has unwittingly given him earlier, this episode gets deeply personal for the Micawber-liking audience, which I thought was cleverly done. My one complaint re: Mr. Micawber is that his moment of supreme glory is no longer there, because he doesn't temporarily align with Heep. Thus, he can't the day by uncovering the proof that Heep has been responsible for Aunt Betsey's financial ruin and Mr. Wickfield's decline; instead, this is given to Agnes, presumably to give her more agency.
Lastly: having written David Copperfield fanfiction about her for Yuletide two years ago, I was curious how the film would deal (if at all) with Emily. First of all, during the childhood part, she's already a teenager when David is still a child, age wise between him and Ham. They play with each other, but there's no indication David crushes on her; instead, at the end of his first stay with the Pegottys, she already becomes engaged to Ham. (And then has apparently a ten years engagement, because she's still engaged when David brings Steerforth for a visit.) Otoh, within limited screen time, Emily's dream of being a lady is made clear while the movie roots her more physically than the novel does in her world of origin (we meet her when she's cleaning fish, and her hands are marked by hard work), and it's clear what happens when Steerforth shows up. Since I had reread the Emily passages for Yuletide in 2017, it had struck me then that even before Steerforth, the book makes it very clear Emily doesn't really want to marry Ham, she's doing it for her uncle and because everyone expects her to, but that Ham really is like a brother to her, and I wasn't sure whether that came across in the film, but never mind, it's a subplot. One thing I regretted was that Dev Patel and Aneurin Barnard - imo, as always - had no chemistry, because even teenage me when reading the novel thought there was a strong vibe between Steerforth and David and without homoerotic subtext, that relationship (and David being wilfully blind for a long time re: Steerforth's dark side, and even afterwards having strong feelings for him) doesn't really work. But: chemistry is in the eyes of the beholder.
Let's see, what else: I liked Rosalind Eleazar as Agnes, being so charming and radiant and confidant that it's a mystery why not everyone falls for her. Morfydd Clark does double duty as David's mother and Dora Spenlow - which makes even more sense in the novel because they are really a lot alike, which makes for an uncomfortable moment when David tries to teach Dora to be more practical and you suddenly remember Mr. Murdstone and his behaviour with David's mother - and the "write me out, Doady" moment has unexcpected subtle pathos if you are aware of Dickens' own private life and Dora's fate in the novel. Tilda Swinton makes for a great Betsey Trotwood, though I very much regret that her squaring off againsts the Murdstones does not happen in tihis film since this is my favourite Betsey Trotwood scene in the book. (It doesn't happen because David is no longer a child, he's a late teenager by the time he ends up with Aunt Betsey in the movie, and has just squared off against the Murdstones.)
In conclusion: great fun, very clever, and at times made me wish Iannucci would tackle Dickens himself in a biopic. This entry was originally posted at https://selenak.dreamwidth.org/1411177.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.