It’s always nice to get another Jane Austen adaptation.
Even the ones that are not particularly great are usually still enjoyable, since no amount of artistic liberties can take away from what makes Austen’s prose transcend time – extraordinary understanding of the nuances of human nature and endless empathy for it.
That said, some of the adaptations can indeed try too hard and lean too much into distinctive artistic choices (case in point: Autumn de Wilde’s Emma) that they lose track of the spirit that makes the texts they’re based on so special. Georgia Oakley’s Sense and Sensibility, the latest version of Austen’s debut novel from 1811, ends up falling under that very same category.
For what it’s worth, the 2026 film follows the original quite closely. After the untimely death of Mr. Dashwood, his wife (Caitríona Balfe) and three daughters, Elinor (Daisy Edgar-Jones), Marianne (Esmé Creed-Miles), and Margaret (Bodhi Rae Breathnach), face drastic changes as the estate is inherited by Dashwood’s son from his previous marriage, John (Tom Brooke). Edward Ferrars (George MacKay), the brother of John’s insufferable wife, visits the family and immediately establishes a connection with Elinor, which his sister strongly disapproves of.
When the Dashwoods have to move to a cottage in Devonshire, Elinor is left with uncertainty and doubts regarding where she and Edward might stand, and Marianne faces a romantic conundrum of her own as she gains the attention of the pleasantly brooding, but too reserved for her taste, Colonel Brandon (Herbert Nordrum). She, herself, much prefers the naturally charming and outgoing Willoughby (Frank Dillane), who seems to reciprocate her feelings but then unexpectedly up and leaves for London.
While this particular Austen’s novel doesn't get adapted as often as, say, Pride and Prejudice, there is still an important point of reference that Oakley’s film tries to set itself apart from – Ang Lee’s 1995 adaptation starring Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet. Much like the director’s previous feature work, Blue Jean, Oakley’s Sense and Sensibility chooses a certain color palette and sticks to it: This time, it’s muted, dusky colors with deep shadows lurking underneath – the direct opposite of Lee’s brightly lit and colorful version. And maybe this is one of the film’s core weaknesses: it just might be too aware of the existing ACU (Austen Cinematic Universe), and is actively searching for its place within it.
While distinguishing itself from Lee’s film, Oakley’s version favors another contemporary classic adaptation that came from Focus Features – Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice, to the point that it seems to be borrowing some of its mood board. Oakley even doubles down on the airy, slightly melancholy feel of Wright’s film, possibly in an attempt to make the titular sensibility more visible.
Hence, multiple close-ups of people running their fingers through leaves and grass, shots of hair waving in the breeze, and some aesthetically pleasing but seemingly random framing (at one point, there is, for some reason, a low-angle shot of someone sitting on a swing). But while having to see yet another shot of someone lying in the grass or lovingly caressing feathers might cause some mild giggling, that isn’t really the film’s most crucial underlying issue.
The thing is that while trying to pit Elinor’s sense against Marianne’s sensibility, Oakley and the screenplay, written by Diane Reid (for whom it’s a feature debut), insist on heightening both ways of mentality so much that they become practically farcical. The script instructs Elinor and Edward to be so stoically reserved in their feelings that Daisy Edgar-Jones and George MacKay find themselves with barely any room to emote at all and no discernible features to fill in the blanks. Their love never feels tangible, since we mostly know about it because multiple characters consistently mention that they like each other.
While Esmé Creed-Miles has more noticeable chemistry with both of Marianne’s suitors, her general characterization is even more off than Elinor’s. The script, as well as the choices made by Oakley and Creed-Miles, results in every micro-reaction Marianne experiences – whether she laughs, cries, or despairs – being so overly exaggerated that she comes off more as a mercurial, petulant child than a young woman who’s both highly intelligent and deeply sensitive, and just hasn’t found a way of balancing the two.
For all the irony and the supposed edginess here, the lack of nuance in most characters divorces Oakley's film not only from Lee’s earlier version, but from Austen’s writing itself. No amount of tree-touching or the national team of respected actors can fully conceal the fact that there isn’t much love here. Not only between some of the characters, but, even more damningly, the love of the authors for the people in the story they are recounting appears to be missing.
During the two-hour runtime, Marianne insists multiple times that a man must necessarily have some passions. Well, the same does go for films.
The film is now playing in select movie theaters, via Focus Features. Visit their official site for locations and showtimes.