As Autumn trickles in (or, in the case of Edinburgh, floods very aggressively), it seems to evoke an almost Pavlovian instinct to flick to Netflix and devote time and feeling to rewatch beloved period dramas. Whether that entails a reminiscence on sisterhood with the March sisters, a constant rewatch of the hand clench in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice, or an exploration of all the seasons in 2020’s Emma, it seems almost season-defining that we return to these classics, an integral aspect of that autumnal vibe. It is difficult perhaps then to ascribe reason to this being a uniquely autumnal experience, and one female-dominated: a millennial-Bridget Jones-esque audience might attribute this necessity to a lonely, self-piteous lead into a single Christmas, romanticizing primarily men of the female gaze, whilst a Reddit search sides with popular opinions that period dramas are the perfect antidote to the autumn horror-genre emphasis. In both scenarios, however, it seems key to note how undermined the genre can be, viewed more as a product of female frivolity rather than high-brow film category.
An increasingly relevant genre, seemingly spear-headed by female directors (the likes of Greta Gerwig, and even now Emerald Fennel, ahead of her version of Wuthering Heights), it feels necessary nonetheless to reflect on the not-so distant past, wherein the role of women, in such a female-centric genre, was overlooked and undermined. Regarding Joe Wright’s 2005 Pride and Prejudice, it feels crucial to notice, the lack of a ‘female gaze’ on the adaptation of a novel that is the template for the very concept. In the mid-noughties’ climate, where the percentage of female directors in the UK was only 11.3% (which had only increased by 0.6% in 2014), according to the BBC, it seems there was little choice or platform. Granted, the beauty of Wright’s film persists, and its addictive attention to detail, homing in on the subtle and discreet, which seems to mimic a sort of female gaze, has created a successful legacy. However, it still leaves me fairly disenchanted, considering Austen’s novel – published anonymously because writing was a degrading occupation for a woman, and her novels long-considered more akin to inanity (because of its themes) rather than great literature – has yet to be directed by a woman, even in our 21st Century society. Released in September 2005, making the majority of us currently at university, older than Wright’s film, leaves me to question what precedent this sets, if a female scope on Austen’s most famous novel has failed to be presented, even as recent as in our lifetimes. Netflix’s supposed upcoming adaptation, starring Daisy Edgar-Jones and to be adapted by Dolly Alderton, could be an opportunity to rectify this (so if nothing else, take this article as a desperate plea for a female director in this upcoming version). Regardless, like most people, I will continue to enjoy Wright’s adaptation; I do, nonetheless, feel it is time for a uniquely female lens on the very novel, and novelist, who birthed ‘the female gaze’.
Whilst not the sorest spot of the genre, attention should still be drawn to the leading faces of it, with Keira Knightly, long coined the ‘Queen of Period Dramas’, having often noted how critics have questioned her decisions to predominantly work within the genre of period dramas. A pointed line of catechizing, considering it is perhaps the only genre that is so feminine-focused, and one that seems to undermine the scope of the genre and of Knightley’s work: not only has she starred in literary adaptations and romances (Anna Karenina, Pride and Prejudice), she has also worked in period-drama biopics (Colette, The Imitation Game). It feels key to note that there is rarely criticism regarding the acting-career choices of men, especially in the same field: why do Cillian Murphy and Kit Harrington work so solely within the period-drama genre, and does Murphy’s penchant for gritty male characters, and Harrington’s for war heroes, mean that we should take women’s roles less seriously?
An example from which to draw another comparison is the reception surrounding Rosamund Pike’s role as Marie Curie in Radioactive, a 2019 film which received little to no social media attention, starkly contrasting to Murphy’s role as J. Robert Oppenheimer, which (not just for its Barbie overlap) garnered astounding levels of attention. Without undermining Murphy, or the success that is Oppenheimer, I simply want to question why there was such a comparison in public interest: both films star highly celebrated actors and follow narratives about personal lives, life-changing scientific discoveries and decisions, in the biopic period-drama genre, yet Oppenheimer has been subsumed by ‘‘Film-Bros’’, and Radioactive has disappeared before ever fully surfacing. This feels prevalent also when comparing the anticipation and box offices successes of films about male music stars (Elvis 2022, Rocketman 2019) and the comparative lack of attention for, for example, the Whitney Houston biopic, I Wanna Dance With Somebody, released in 2022. It leaves the question of what is causing this lack of attention: an undermining of the historical figures portrayed, the women now playing them, or both?
The impacts of this feel disastrous: if society is still struggling to include general narratives of women (‘the female gaze’ told from a male perspective, biopics not given the media attention to truly honor the women that inspired them), it leaves one to question how long it will take to rectify this, let alone the hope of a more intersectional feminism portrayal on screen, especially in a genre so beloved of women.
Illustration by Katy Roberts, @katyaillustrates on Instagram