Mira Nair's Vanity Fair is not a bad movie. Many would probably say it is a particularly good movie. Full of social meanderings and commentary, the plot mirrors that of the 19th century classic fairly closely, with few omissions or changes. Unfortunately for Nair, this is a film, and one of the only redeeming qualities about the original novel is the narrator; a character that cannot exist in a film.
In the absence of a narrator, film has to turn to visuals; a words are the medium for a novelist, images are the medium for the filmmaker. Nair does little to nothing to capture the narrative feel of the original novel, and the result is an ultimately stale movie with a mildly intriguing plot. This is not to say the film is visually lacking; on the contrary, the visuals of this film are stunning. Somehow, however, they are removed enough from the central essence of the film to make a difference.
The colors within this film are vibrant and alive. The characters, particularly Becky and Lord Steyne seem to become the juxtaposition between fire and water given their signature colors; red and blue. Their costumes are almost always either red or blue. None of the colors within the film will go unnoticed; deep, vibrant and warm, the associations drawn from character to character and color to color are unavoidable. This key color-coding, of red and blue as fire and water enters the film before any of the characters; in the opening sequence (the best part of the film) the colors are introduced by way of a peacock and a rosebud, which give way to water and a dancer in a multi-color dress, very much like fire:
The pride of the peacock and the subtly alluring power of the rose perfectly fit the proud and entitled attitude of Lord Steyne and the fragile yet powerful social climb of Becky.
While the colors and opening sequence sufficiently create the central metaphor for the film, it is artistically dull beyond this. Most camera angles are purely conventional; over the shoulder shots for conversations, low angle shots for people of higher class, high angle shots for people of lower class, and close-ups for reactions to unexpected statements. This is not to say that Nair does not employ the camera angles for the desired effect; everything that is accomplished is accomplished well....it is simply not accomplished in a way it hasn't been done before.
Cuts within the film, montage as it is, mean nothing for the overall flow of the film. They exist to show gaze and lead conversations. This is conventional and takes place as it ought to; never too early and never too late. Unfortunately, it never adds to the psychological reading of the film for the viewer. With juxtapositions that are nothing but conventional, the only thing the film tells is the plot. There is one key exception to this; often, within the film, a scene will cut to water. Given the nature of the plot as it chronicles the rise and fall of characters, the water seems to be a symbol for the fluidity of their lives, and cutting to a simple shot of water creates a feeling of fluidity to the otherwise fully plot-driven film. There is also a solitary instance when a character is speaking about Indian food amidst cuts to an Indian servant, but even this is a bit too overt use of montage for anything less obvious to be portrayed.
If Vanity Fair were not a novel prior to it's existence as a film, it would probably be a wonderful film, telling an original story semi-artistically. As it is, however, it is an inferior product to the novel as it lacks the witty and stylistic narrator. Adaptations can exist as worthwhile art apart from their novelistic beginnings if they use the medium of film to capture things about the plot and characters that the medium of the novel cannot so clearly. It seems, however, that Nair does not attempt to do anything but creatively portray the story of Vanity Fair. This leads to an entertaining but ultimately largely worthless and disappointing film. -Zachary R. Belcher
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