Review: Starz miniseries Howards End
"England was alive, throbbing through all her estuaries, crying for joy through the mouths of all her gulls, and the north wind, with contrary motion, blew stronger against her rising seas."
E.M. Forster, Howards End
"I do not mean him, or any man or woman, to be the whole of my life." -Margaret Schlegel
The Starz adaptation of E.M. Forster's 1910 novel Howards End is both a faithful adaptation and a respite from the year 2018, but it is also a troubling portrayal of how little has changed since it was written. In four, hour-long installments, it does justice to its subject matter without wearing out its welcome.
Director Hettie Macdonald brings to life the bustling streets of early 20th century London and does justice to the tranquil green of England's tree-draped country retreats. It is pleasant to sit in the parlors and old homes of people who discuss art, books, and fine music, who would sneer at the crudeness of our time, and where our obsession with celebrity has taken us. The content is never sensationalized to keep up with Outlander or Game of Thrones. Nor does it suffer from being watered down or having been post-modernized, like the Netflix series Anne with an E. Howards End doesn’t need any of that, because 108 years after it was published, the social issues that plague its characters, such as anti-intellectualism, are still among us. While the average viewer may not relate to the Schlegel siblings, who are able to spend their days in pursuit of music and intellectualism in a cozy London house through their family inheritance, the topics they discuss, such as social and women’s equality, the idea that the poor might deserve a living wage, and capitalism vs socialism, are as relevant in 2018 as they were in 1910.
Hayley Atwell (The Duchess, Agent Carter) leads the cast as an arresting, articulate, and intelligent Margaret Schlegel, a refreshing heroine who does not base her happiness on anyone but herself, and searches for true connection with everyone she encounters. She also refuses to be silenced or bullied., even by her opinionated, successful husband. And Julia Ormond, although her screen time is limited, is as incandescent and elegantly captivating as she is in every other role I have seen her.
If you enjoyed Matthew Macfadyen as Mr. Darcy, you will enjoy him here (see: uncomfortable but heartfelt marriage proposals) as a bearded, slightly older and more wizened businessman, and a father of three athletic hoity-toiety upper class children. If you have trouble understanding the category in modern terms, these are water polo playing, ivy league frat house types. I actually think the casting is better than in the Oscar-winning 1993 version. While Anthony Hopkins is a great actor, he portrayed Henry Wilcox as an old man. It’s much easier to see why Hayley Atwell’s Margaret would find the energy and power of Macfadyen's Henry appealing. In spite of his, as he tells her, not being of her “set.” Their chemistry is obvious from the first time they encounter one another on screen.
It is also refreshing to see the dynamics between Margaret and her younger sister Helen, who she raised. They are both independent, well-rounded women, and this tale is more about their freedom and the survival of their familial relationship through trials of social and personal conflict than it is about either of their individual romances.
The most unpleasant takeaway here seems to be the lesson Henry Wilcox attempts to imprint upon Helen halfway through, when he says, "Don't take up that sentimental attitude over the poor. The poor are poor, and one is sorry for them, but there it is." This is a vague impression that never seems to be fully addressed or resolved. Helen and Margaret are socialists of course, but in the end they get their bread and butter, and their fine family home, from the staunch capitalist. The person who receives the brunt of misfortune is not Margaret, nor Helen, who breaks the social mores of her time, but impoverished Jacky (Rosalind Eleazar). One of the only women of color in the series, she is first ruined by a love affair with Henry Wilcox in her youth, not provided for and then cheated on by her miserable pseudo-intellectual husband, and finally widowed by the rash violence of the oldest Wilcox son. Jacky is the true victim of the Wilcoxes and their blind entitlement. We last see her sitting listlessly in her barren parlor, and as far as I know, she never receives any recompense, and is left widowed and penniless, with no resolution to her story. in the end, the rich are still rich, and the poor are still poor, swindled, and swept under the rug.
