Sense and Sensibility’ Earns Its Own Place Next to the 1995 Classic
I’ve seen the 1995 Sense and Sensibility more times than I can count, and I’m not sure I’ve ever actually watched it. That film has been around for almost as long as I have, so it was always airing somewhere on TV, usually while I was doing something else in the same room. I know the whats, the hows, and the whys. I remember the narrative rather well, honestly. But if I ever sat down and properly rewatched it from start to finish, I feel like I’d never be able to give it the credit it deserves. It’s a classic I absorbed more than experienced.
Period dramas and romances aren’t exactly my favorite genre either. Then again, as I’ve always said, I relish every form of filmmaking and storytelling, and period pieces are just one more in the mix. This one also had plenty going for it. The early reception was positive, and the cast is full of people I admire. So I went in with high hopes. One thing is worth clarifying before going any further, because many viewers may wrongly assume otherwise: this is a new adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel, not a remake of the 1995 movie.
[Warning: spoilers from Sense and Sensibility are below!]
A family pushed out of its own home
When Mr. Dashwood dies, his estate goes to John (Tom Brooke), his son from a previous marriage, and not to the widow and three daughters he leaves behind. John’s wife, Fanny (Stacy Martin), makes sure his deathbed promise to look after them amounts to very little. Mrs. Dashwood (Caitríona Balfe) and her girls leave Norland Park for a modest cottage offered by a distant relative. Elinor (Daisy Edgar-Jones) is composed and practical, Marianne (Esmé Creed-Miles) is passionate, and Margaret (Bodhi Rae Breathnach) is still young.
Before the move, Elinor grows close to Fanny’s brother, Edward Ferrars (George MacKay). In their new home, Marianne falls hard for the dashing Willoughby (Frank Dillane), while the reserved Colonel Brandon (Herbert Nordrum) keeps quietly to the edges of her attention. With very little money and even fewer options, both sisters soon learn how much of love depends on things they can’t control.
A sisterhood that earns the new adaptation
When you already know where a story goes, the interesting part becomes how it gets there. Plot-wise, not much has moved. Diana Reid’s screenplay keeps the narrative and its themes pretty intact, close to Austen’s book and close to the 1995 film as well. There are a few changes, of course. The one I appreciated most is tied to the ending, and without getting into specifics, it brings the story closer to the novel. The resolution gets a little more room to breathe, and it feels more genuine instead of arriving abruptly. Where this Sense and Sensibility truly sets itself apart is in the character dynamics, the overall tone and atmosphere, and also how little humor it has.
The character dynamics are the biggest change and my favorite one. This adaptation tells a more balanced story between the two sisters and makes their love for each other the actual main love story of the movie. The suitors still matter, and the romances still drive the plot, but they mostly work as things that happen to Elinor and Marianne. The scenes with real weight are the ones where the sisters are alone together, arguing, comforting each other, or failing to understand one another. Neither one ends up as a supporting player in the other’s arc.
Their personalities remain just as distinct as Austen wrote them, and pretty much as they were in the earlier film. It’s the restraint of one against the emotion of the other, the sense of one and the sensibility of the other. What this version does well is never pick a winner. Elinor’s composure keeps the family afloat, but it also leaves her alone with everything she isn’t saying. Marianne’s openness makes her the most alive person in any room, and also the most exposed. The story slowly pushes each of them a few steps toward the other, and that movement is the real arc of Sense and Sensibility.
Edgar-Jones has the harder job of the two. Elinor spends most of the movie holding everything in so her mother and sisters don’t have to, and the actress plays that composure as labor, something Elinor has to keep choosing scene after scene. Small cracks show up for a second and then disappear. It’s a quiet performance, which is exactly why the rare moments when she lets go hit as hard as they do.
Creed-Miles gets the opposite assignment and runs with it. Her Marianne is wild and changeable, quick to anger and even quicker to love, with a restlessness that makes even her happiest moments feel fragile. It would’ve been easy to play her as naive or self-absorbed, and the character certainly has some of that in her, but Creed-Miles never asks us to judge Marianne for feeling too much. I love them both, and side by side, they make this sisterhood completely believable.
I know anyone who holds the 1995 classic close to their heart will struggle to avoid the comparison trap, and I’m actively trying not to fall into it myself. That cast was great. This one is great too, and it makes these roles its own, with its own credit and merit. Mrs. Jennings (Fiona Shaw) is all tactless warmth, the kind of meddler you can’t stay annoyed at for long. Balfe plays the mother’s grief and worry with real restraint, while Martin makes Fanny wonderfully cold without turning her into a cartoon. Nordrum, Dillane, and MacKay play men the sisters spend much of the film trying to read, and all three give excellent performances.
What I do miss is the humor. This is a more serious approach to the novel, and that’s a perfectly valid choice that suits the movie Georgia Oakley is making. Still, in a story with this much heartbreak and quiet suffering, those lighter bits work as a release valve, and here they’re few and far between. Without them spread more often throughout, the melancholy keeps piling up, and it becomes a heavier watch than it needed to be. I did feel the runtime because of it.
Visually, I have very few complaints. Oakley’s filmmaking is much more nature-driven, and I appreciate the moody, even brooding atmosphere that comes with it. The darker tones and muted color palette never bothered me. There are plenty of beautiful sunlit scenes and silhouettes to balance them, and if anything, I’d say this version varies its look more than the 1995 one did. That’s hardly a fair fight, though, since the two are separated by decades of invention and reinvention in filmmaking and technology. Roger Goula’s score is another highlight. It’s built largely around a solo violin, quite intimate, and a great companion to the narrative.
Underneath all the courtship, this is also a story about money and status, and this version is upfront about it. The Dashwood women lose their home because of how inheritance worked at the time, not because of anything they did, and from that point on, every romantic choice is also a financial one. Seen that way, Elinor’s restraint reads less like a personality trait and more like a survival strategy. She can’t afford to fall apart, so she doesn’t. Marianne’s belief in a love that ignores money and status is beautiful, but in this world, it’s also a luxury. The landscape fills in the rest. In a society where nobody is allowed to say what they feel, the weather says it for them.
Elinor and Edward’s chemistry is where things get shakier. A lot of the emotional payoff depends on that connection, and while both actors are good on their own, the romance comes across as more polite than charming. I wanted a little more spark there.
My broader issue is harder to pin down. Too often, Sense and Sensibility felt closer to a soap opera than to a historical romantic tale. It leans too sentimental at points, and the late revelations and twists don’t have the impact they could have had. By the time they arrive, the themes and messages are already so clear that each reveal mostly confirms what the film has been telling us all along. It’s an odd thing to criticize a movie for being too clear, but that’s kind of where I landed.
I also don’t know how much this new adaptation was needed or wanted. It’s well made across all departments: well shot for the most part, well scored, well acted. I liked it enough. I just never truly dove into the deep emotional investment a story like this asks for.
Final thoughts on Sense and Sensibility
Sense and Sensibility is a well-made, well-acted new adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel, and it earns its own place next to it. Daisy Edgar-Jones and Esmé Creed-Miles shine as Elinor and Marianne, and turning the sisters’ love into the main love story is the film’s best decision. The rest of the cast makes these roles their own, Georgia Oakley’s moody, nature-driven filmmaking gives it a distinct identity, and Roger Goula’s intimate score is a great companion throughout. It’s also a more serious, sentimental take that misses the humor and feels its runtime. At times it drifts into soap-opera territory, with a polite rather than charming romance between Elinor and Edward, and late twists that don’t land as hard as they should. I liked it enough. I just never fell all the way in.
Sense and Sensibility is currently in theaters! Have you had a chance to see it yet? How do you feel it compares to the 1995 version? Share your thoughts on social media and tag @bsb.insider to keep the conversation going!
Wildwood is Impeccably Impossible
