The premiere of Julian Jarrold’s new Brideshead Revisited adaptation was housed in the Chelsea Cinema, bringing together cast, crew and hangers-on, such as my good self.

Before the film got under way we heard from the backers.  There was suitable gushing from Miramax, via producers Robert Bernstein, Douglas Rae and Kevin Loader.  The cast, including Matthew Goode (Charles Ryder), Ben Whishaw (Sebastian Flyte), Hayley Atwell (Julia Flyte), Emma Thompson (Lady Marchmain) each took a bow and gave thanks.

What would everyone make of this most recent adaptation?  Evelyn Waugh’s novel is without doubt my favourite book.  I could live quite happily on a desert island with only a copy of the book and an endless provision of Hendricks Gin.  I adored the 1981 television adaptation, written by John Mortimer, and so wonderfully brought to life by the heroes of the age.  John Gielgiud, Laurence Olivier, with the up and coming Jeremy Irons and Anthony Andrews, provided formidable performances. This serialisation, however, had the advantage of being 659 minutes long spread across 11 episodes, whereas Mr. Jarrold must constrain love, hatred, religion, class, sobriety, and the glory of the inter-war years into a mere 133 minutes.

Much of the audience was aware of this as the lights dimmed.  The film unfolds as expected with a forty-something Charles at Brideshead amongst his platoon, walking the halls.  The narrative then jumps between Charles’ pre-war and pre-Oxford lives.  The story does not truly begin with Charles starting at Oxford University.  The shifts in chronology, rather than provide welcome intrigue and tension about Charles, interrupted and disjointed the flow.

Sadly, the film then races through the glorious Oxford scenes, to settle eventually upon life at Brideshead, with Charles and Sebastian who are re-united during their Oxford vacation.

The glory of Evelyn Waugh’s style is her effortless, off-hand, class commentary.  It peppers the novel, providing rich social context, yet Jarrold has gotten it all wrong.  The film supposes that Charles is a grasping, social climber, set upon gaining Brideshead through any means.  This is simply not the case.  It is love that draws Charles to Brideshead.  Firstly through his boyhood friendship with Sebastian, excessively represented as homosexual love, and later through Charles’ love for Julia.  But love is never simple, as Charles, Sebastian and Julia set-off for Venice, sparking off their inevitable love triangle.  Cue such ham-fisted dialogue as “What a lot of temptations,” from Lord Marchmain, placing his arms round Sebastian and Julia.  The audience hardly needs this kind of prompt.

The film decides to focus on the final one hundred pages of the book in detail, in particular, the theme of Catholic guilt.  The significance of Charles being an agnostic rather than an atheist has perhaps, been lost on screenwriters Jeremy Brock and, veteran adapter, Andrew Davies, although it is, as ever, hard to know the reason for this alteration from the original text.

The closing scenes depict a dejected Charles, who has failed to secure Brideshead, in all ways.  Friends told me to watch this movie with fresh eyes, and look upon it as a piece of cinema in its own right, and detach myself from the book.  I was unable to do this, and sadly, I sat in my seat correcting the film on numerous occasions.  I will accept that some of the scenes are beautiful; there are sun-drenched moments at Brideshead that show what great modern British cinema can orchestrate.  The Morocco scenes are equally vivid, and beautifully arresting, however, the film is lacking in the deeper beauty that is contained in the novel and 1981 serialisation.

Emma Thompson takes a wonderful turn in this production, holding the film together, and Matthew Goode has a more than reasonable showing as Charles.  Ben Whishaw is far from strong, while Hayley Atwell is barely discernible.  Michael Gambon, who I expected much from, provided little more than a damp squib.  Worst of all, however, was Joseph Beattie, playing Anthony Blanche.  He was appalling and sadly, I said this a little too loudly at the after party, and he was unfortunately clearly within earshot!

The after party was held at Chelsea restaurant Bluebird that was transformed into the 1920’s deco ship seen in the film complete with a wonderful swing band, and ice sculpted swans taking pride of place throughout the room.  The champagne was a rather poor Prosecco, forcing me onto red wine for the evening.  I suppose this was the result of spending millions on the movie.  The only memorable aspect of the after-party, other than the arresting beauty of Felicity Jones, who played Cordelia, was the presence of Russell Brand working the room! I must admit I did stagger out having slurred at Ben Whishaw for quite a while, but was well-worth going to, nonetheless.  For the purists, however, the film itself is rather less enjoyable.