'Emma' Review: Anya Taylor-Joy Leads the Most Stylish Jane Austen Movie Ever Made

Rock photographer Autumn de Wilde turns Jane Austen's frothiest novel to a delicious wedding cake of a period comedy.

Editor's note: This review was originally released for the theatrical release of"Emma."

The fundamental purpose -- maybe even the loftiest ambition -- of any movie adapted from Austen's publication should be to support this claim and to do so with enough conviction to subvert the universally acknowledged truth that some works of art are far more serious than others. (Let us take a minute to see that"Clueless" was a worthy upgrade because of Cher Horowitz's Valley Girl vapidity, not despite it.)

Input: Director Autumn de Wilde's lavish but loyal"Emma" (stylized"Emma."), an indulgent movie about indulgent individuals that dared to envision how -- about a long enough timeline -- that the whole of human presence may be no more important than a straw hat shaped like a fortune cookie, or a navy blue shirt is popping against a mustard peacoat, or even the amorous misfortunes of an unsophisticated teenage girl as they reverberate through a vain pocket of the English gentry.

This confection of time humour leans so hard into the solipsism of Austen's narrative that it may as well be set in a pre-Victorian Westworld, however, when"Emma" is a pound of icing on a tbsp of cake, de Wilde makes certain that every bite delivers its discrete sugar. She exalts the silliness of it all until the most asinine details feel deadly serious, and nothing on earth seems to matter past who Miss Harriet Smith will marry.

Emma Woodhouse (Anya Taylor-Joy) is first seen roaming between the letters of the movie's title, as though everything we see is present just for her self-amusement. The prodigal daddy's girl is still every bit as"handsome, clever, and rich" as Austen guessed her, but Taylor-Joy plays to the personality's ennui; Emma's boredom is on the point of becoming an existential crisis, as she swans around her daddy's Highbury estate worried that we might have exhausted our patience for stories about people residing in their wealth.

For the first 20 minutes or so, everything and everyone seems entombed at marzipan. Emma is all collarbone, and no spine, her widowed father (summit Bill Nighy) is busy laying the foundation for jokes which won't land for another hour. Our heroine's naïve job Harriet (Mia Goth, channelling the ghost of Brittany Murphy) doesn't even get to make eyes at her silent farmer crush before Emma redirects the girl's attention to the preening new vicar in town, Mr Elton ("The Crown" celebrity Josh O'Connor, a master of obsequiousness who pads a few ear-high collars into a full and funny character).

Emma meddles in the affairs of the others to keep the pressure off herself -- she is vowed to remain unwed in order not to leave her precious Mr Woodhouse -- but de Wilde's film does not gel until we see her spar with the one man who might threaten her celibate yenta lifestyle. That would be the esteemed Mr George Knightley (a rumpled and lovable Johnny Flynn), who conveys his inherited riches as he slept inside. Flynn and Taylor-Joy don't have the most volatile chemistry, but these actors do not want for it; their personalities entertain one another, and that is enough to keep things in motion.

Emma" has never had much of a storyline -- it swoons forward on the strength of gestures, looks, and suggested desires -- which makes it a perfect car for de Wilde's feature debut. A veteran rock photographer and music video director whose most iconic work comprises the cover shot of Elliott Smith's"Figure 8," de Wilde shoots"Emma" just like a ballet that is set on the highest grade of a wedding cake and cast entirely with life-sized toppers; her tilt-shift finale rounds out the rare movie which you may taste, even if"Marie Antoinette" and"The Grand Budapest Hotel" have made sumptuous meals from a similar recipe.

David Schweitzer and Isobel Waller-Bridge's minuet-like score might have felt oppressive had de Wilde not baked the music into every scene, so that each strut, grin, and touch is folded into a greater dance (stiff compositions help make de Wilde's frames seem like phases ). The class has rarely been palpably choreographed, to this point where the film's one critical dance sequence almost looks redundant. The ringlets in Emma's hair appear to have their blocking, as they bounce and sway in sync with the woman who wears them.

"Emma" only grows more assured (and symmetrical) because its namesake loses her balance, the pastel splendour of Christopher Blauvelt's cinematography and the vocabulary-defying genius of costume designer Alexandra Byrne endowing this traditional story with new energy all its own. Highbury becomes dry enough to adapt Nighy's humour, Taylor-Joy finds a fantastic, furrowed take on her personality amidst Emma's confusion. Each member of de Wilde's supporting cast manages to mix into the film's style (special mention is reserved for"Sex Education" celebrities Connor Swindells and Tanya Reynolds, that deliver just the right amount of irony to their respective parts of Robert Martin and Mrs Elton).

Even though de Wilde's style-forward approach emphasizes the world of Highbury within its inhabitants -- have we spoke about the incredible town haberdashery or the Greek chorus of tittering schoolgirls who add a completely new aeroplane to the action whenever they glide through the background? -- her actors make it fun to watch their personalities determine and assert their true value. Silly as it can be in those surroundings, few of us take action more seriously; the cleverest minutes in "Emma" make this fondant of a film feel much less like a guilty pleasure than a mirthful type of vibe check (watch how Wilde shoots Emma and George in shallow focus so that these self-obsessed socialites blend into the drama of the priceless oil portraits that hang on the walls behind them).

From the time it's our spoiled young heroine has realized that she is"totally, butt-crazy in love with Josh," the film's stylized title no more indicates that "Emma." Is the definitive version of Austen's narrative -- period -- so much since it's saying that de Wilde's version is the very "Emma" which"Emma" has ever been. De Wilde doesn't breed for relevance or reinvent the wheel, so she simply unapologetically serves dessert for dinner until you're left with the satisfaction of eating a three-course meal. Emma has too many followers on social media.