Becoming Jane

Not to put too fine a point on it: Becoming Jane is art house dreck, Victorian porn for American women. Of course, Anne Hathaway looks lovely in an empire ball gown, and she skillfully puts on the English accent as yet another typical Jane Austen heroine: too smart for her own good, penniless, and in dire need of a husband. Only this time, she's actually playing Jane Austen.

When Jane goes to the ball, she dances with wanted and unwanted suitors and makes clever conversation all the while, but it's not simply the story we are seeing. It's fodder for the novels, the inspiration for "Pride and Prejudice" and that dashing Mr. Darby (James McAvoy). It's an opportunity for Anne Hathaway to furrow her significant brow, dip pen into inkwell, and recite many famous passages, now known and beloved, as she transcribes the words onto the page.

Plundering a famous writer's life for movie material is not uncommon-- Shakespeare in Love is just the most famous example. Rene Zellweger recently played children's book author Beatrix Potter, and this summer, French actor Romain Duris takes on Moliere. It's all good and fine, but Becoming Jane is not worthy of Jane Austen's prose. What I witnessed was corporate greed: a savvy team zeroing in on an audience that goes gaga for the English costume drama, hoping to cash in on the popularity of young Hathaway after the enormous success of The Devil Wears Prada.

Watching this movie feels like witnessing the birth of chick lit. Rather than admire the perseverance of a determined artist to pursue her craft, you'll be asked to pity the real Jane Austen, an unfortunate specimen who never married, and, despite her acknowledged success, turns into a withered, soft spoken mouse.