Valentine's Day 2016 is approaching. Better grab your ax.
Say what?
Sorry---I've seen one too many commercials for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, a new movie out this weekend. I suppose Jane Austen's original version didn't have enough zip. (Not to mention slash.)
The movie is based on a book of the same title by Seth Grahame-Smith, the author who also brought us Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. I have to tip my hat to Mr. Grahame-Smith for his apparent success in blending genres. However...
Goodness gracious! Excuse me while I settle myself in my rocker and commence to complain about all these young whippersnappers messing around with great literature, deciding that everything needs more blood gushing and bones cracking and brains squishing and especially more of those danged zombies. Back in my day, sonny, zombies were just mindless things who stood around awaiting orders. The Mummy couldn't talk but at least he showed some initiative, managing to surprise and murder people too slow and stupid to escape a creature bound head to toe in gauze.
Whew. I think I'll be okay now. Thanks for letting me unleash my inner elderly curmudgeon and vent a bit. But really, what's next, To Kill a Werewolf? Atticus Finch and his two brave children, Jem and Scout, melt down the family silver to protect Maycomb County from a pack of changelings. They're assisted by Boo Radley, a werewolf who's trying to resist his murderous urges...
I know, I know, different strokes for different folks and all that. I have to admit to a certain bias here because of my love for Pride and Prejudice. I confess I haven't reread the book in years but I did watch my favorite movie version a couple of weeks ago.
As I watched Elizabeth Bennet (played by Keira Knightley) and Mr. Darcy (played by Matthew Macfadyen) muddle through their almost on-, definitely off-, possibly on- and finally deliriously happy relationship I realized that this was the quintessential romance, the ultimate "chick flick." Lizzie and Darcy don't embrace until they confess their love for each other (at last!) and we don't see them kiss until the movie's last scene.
But their circuitous route to love, embellished by exquisite dialogue, makes my heart sing. When Mr. Darcy tells Miss Bennet she has bewitched him, body and soul, I can't help but wonder if that's what every woman, from 18 to 80, wants to hear.
So, gentlemen, allow me to make the following suggestion: This Valentine's Day, leave the dead alone. Go with Miss Austen's original version. The zombie apocalypse can wait.
