Much better in the world of loose Austen rip-offs is Christmas at Pemberley Manor, a delightful 2018 effort from director Colin Theys. I watch this one on the especially bleak day that I return to work. We’re still locked down and, what’s worse, we’ve been warned that Amelia’s nursery might be completely closed for a month. It’s all a bit rubbish, but we console ourselves with the fact that Katie and I are both lucky enough to have jobs that keep paying us.
This one stars actress and singer Jessica Lowndes as Elizabeth, an event planner in search of the ideal Christmas party venue. When she discovers the picturesque Pemberley Manor, she needs to convince its handsome but aloof owner Mr Darcy (Michael Rady) not to sell it. Sparks fly, romance blossoms, only this time around it’s actually quite good. Well, as far as these films go.
Lowndes is a winning presence as the kind-hearted but determined woman trying to turn the head of Darcy’s suave, filthy rich, helicopter-owning man of industry. He’s handsome, he’s cool, he’s misunderstood. If only Miss Right could find a way into his heart? This one nails the ‘Pride and Prejudice’ tone and Elizabeth and Darcy’s verbal back and forths are spiky and kinda hot. When Elizabeth jokingly threatens to sue her quarry for ‘lack of Christmas spirit,’ it’s pure Hallmark at its festive cheesiest.
It's another film that hammers home the message that the greatest aphrodisiac of all is hanging decorations on the tree in a grand old house and Lowndes and Rady have smouldering chemistry. In the grand tradition of successful Austen adaptations, so much of this story is about hidden feelings expressed through furtive looks and glances.
It's not overly cheesy, but certainly delivers the warm, happy feelings one demands from these films. It also raises some interesting debates about progress vs preserving history. Hallmark movies tend to extol the virtues of history and tradition, but Darcy makes the valid point that though he plans to destroy a bit of history, ‘the people who move into the condos we build will have happy memories too.’
Of course, Lowndes gets up to sing at the film’s finale. It’s a bit cringey, but unavoidable, I guess. It all descend into sickening shmaltz by the end and the late introduction of some fantastical elements feels jarring and unnecessary, but Rady’s irascible performance is just the anchor this film needs. Not bad at all.
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