I was reminded of one of my favourite seminar discussions, in which we became quite agitated over the question of Mrs. Bennet’s BASIC CORRECTNESS.
We all love Mr. Bennet, naturally, because he’s cutting and delightful and adores Lizzy, but Mrs. Bennet is the only character in the entire novel who seems aware of the basic desperation of her family’s situation. Newsflash, romantics! These bishes are actually going to be OUT ON THE STREET, pretty much, if they don’t pull their shit together and marry well, you know? Of course she wanted Lizzy to take one for the team and marry Mr. Collins! The estate was entailed to him! It’s like Downton Abbey, but with less money and without the dead Turkish diplomat.
Sure, she’s odious, but she must be wandering around thinking AM I THE ONLY PERSON WHO GRASPS THE SERIOUSNESS OF THE SITUATION? No wonder she’s taking to her bed with nerves.
Mr. Bennet, right, is all “well, everything’s cool as long as I’m alive, and after I’m dead, it’s not my problem!”
Boo, Mr. Bennet! Have you no scruples?
Oh, and while rewatching the miniseries, as one does, a strange thought occurs to me: when you’re in a period film, and they make up a fake oil painting of you for your stately home, they probably just give it to you when you’re done, right? What else would they do with it? Do you think Colin Firth has an eight-foot-tall fake oil painting of himself in a fake early 19th century frame, in his guest bathroom?