Staring at the Wall

Watched the first half of the new Sense and Sensibility on PBS last night. Having already been warned of its numerous faults by my mother, I was still quite irked by so much of it being cliffnotes on Emma Thompson's adaptation, though I admit, I did not object to Davies' take on Thompson's version of Margaret popping up at random moments. Most of the best moments seemed to involve her; I wonder how the London scenes will hold up without her. I find it sad that Austen's Edward Ferrars is now considered a character needing spicing up, the same way Fanny Price has been considered for the last decade or so; granted, Austen doesn't do much with him at all, but Thompson proved, I believe, that it's hardly necessary to turn him inside out during the adaptation process. I find it more amusing than anything else that Colonel Brandon has turned outright pretty, and if he doesn't hold a candle to Alan, well, that's nothing to be ashamed of; very few do. I'm not entirely sure Davies' treatment of Fanny was called for, though.
Sinus attack leaving my throat in terrible condition. I've upped my deconamine dose and I am now certain to run out long before I go home.

Current Mood: sore
Current Music: The Mystery of Edwin Drood-Ceylon