I Capture the Castle (Film Review)

Romola Garai as Cassandra

At 23, it seemed I'd be too old to read and really enjoy Dodie Smith's 1948 novel I Capture the Castle. I thought it was a book for older children (and it is sometimes positioned as such because Smith is remembered for writing a book for children, The Hundred and One Dalmatians). Instead, it revealed itself to be an unexpected treasure, very adult and very wise in the scope of its emotion and breadth of thought. 2003 saw the release of a film version, directed by Tim Fywell and adapted by Heidi Thomas from Smith's novel. It is not by any means a perfect film, but it evokes, amazingly enough, some of the same feelings that come with Smith's witty, charming, heartfelt depiction of the English countryside in the 1930s and the life of a 17 year old girl growing up in it.

Our narrator is Cassandra Mortmain, a girl on the verge of adulthood, who lives in a semi-ruined English castle rented by her extremely odd family and writes in her diary about life, so that we get to know the story from her perspective. Her father, James Mortmain, is an author who wrote a critically well-received novel some 12 years previous to the film's action, and has since not written a word, though nobody in his family can quite understand why. A fascinating but somewhat neglected subplot delves into this matter of why Mortmain finds it so impossible to express himself, and the final result is one of the film's biggest surprises.

As a consequence of James Mortmain's inability to work, and the fact that the family is of the genteel upper class that is educated but unskilled to work, the Mortmain finances are non-existent. This poverty-stricken state is much bemoaned by Rose, Cassandra's red-haired beauty of an older sister, who longs for the comforts and opportunities that money would provide. Thomas, Cassandra's bespectacled, intelligent little brother, and Topaz, her striking, embarassingly bohemian stepmother ("brackets: not wicked", as the film says), round off the family and also inspect the accounts dolefully. In the margin, but very important too, is Stephen, the extraordinarily handsome hired help who hasn't been paid in six months but keeps working for the family both out of loyalty and because he is besotted with Cassandra, who looks on him as a brother.

When we meet the Mortmains, they are ruing their financial situation and Rose, in addition, is howling about how she will never meet any eligible (and more importantly, rich) young men if she stays in their tiny village. Almost immediately, two eligible young men turn up (and some of us are reminded of Pride and Prejudice). They are brothers, Americans named Simon and Neil Cotton, and are indubitably rich, owning properties not just in America, which is where they're from, but also in England--in fact, Simon is the Mortmains' landlord. Rose immediately decides to make Simon (as the older brother and the heir) ask her to marry him. Presumably she might also want him to fall in love with her, but marriage is what she cares about, for the money it will bring. She is a gold-digger for certain, but the film gives us a chance to understand why and leaves us the option of even sympathizing with her.

What ensues is comic, sad, dramatic, and sublime by turns. Nothing can be simple when a family that has been forced by circumstances to lead a sheltered existence suddenly comes into contact with everything that is alien to them--whether it is circumstances, perspectives, opportunities, moral values, or the spark of sexual excitement. Several characters end up loving those they cannot have or at least think they cannot have, and how they work their different ways through these situations and come out on the other side is the stuff of this story. But this is not a film only about love or lust; it is concerned also with conscience and with intellect, in subtle ways that are related to the acts of feeling and expressing love and any other emotion or thought. The situations the characters are in would seem almost ridiculous sometimes, especially to our over-exposed post-modern minds, but this is a period film and they have period morals and perspectives on life. They are as true to life as they can be in the situation they are placed in; and the situations they end up in are as messy as life itself is. Ultimately, there is much confusion and some heartbreak and a lot of learning for Cassandra to do; right through the film, she tries to deal with her new feelings and new thoughts, as well as her responses to the new behaviour exhibited by other characters, in a way that is most discreet and inoffensive. Her bitter tears when she does not succeed are testament to how she has tried to balance two facets of adulthood, sexuality and responsibility.

Two things make the book stand out: one is Dodie Smith's gentle love for the English countryside and the other is Cassandra's wit and her sharp observations in her diary, in writing. The film is a pleasure to watch because it succeeds in translating both these factors onto the screen. The cinematography loves everything in this film--the greens and blues of an English summer, the stones of the castle, the glow of candlelight, Rose's flaming red head and Cassandra's mouse-brown one, the woods, the angles in Topaz's face, and even the near-opacity of a rainy day--but it loves its landscapes most beautifully and is most mellow with them. As for Cassandra's narrative, Heidi Thomas manages to pick the best lines fom the book for the fine young actress Romola Garai, who plays Cassandra, to speak and Garai does the rest. When the camera lingers on her face, it subtly shows what her character feels. The most moving, intensely truthful passages from Cassandra's diary come physically into being. Even if there was nothing else good in the film, Garai's performance would be a revelation and would be able to carry the film through to the end.

If readers of Smith are unhappy with the film, it will be for two reasons. First, what the book only hinted at and conveyed quietly with regard to Cassandra's sexual awakening and her confusion over it comes out into the open when Fywell puts physical bodies on screen to bring her story to life. Similarly, an undercurrent of darkness in the Mortmain family, and a couple of scenes of domestic violence, are given room in the film--and again, these are not so much departures from the book as thoughtful, perceptive 21st century re-readings of it. There would have been much that Cassandra's narrative would censor, the feelings she found hardest to put into words, and these feelings are left to action and expression in the film, where they play their parts most effectively.

If I do not feel that the film is a triumphant success, it is in part because of the actors playing the Cotton brothers, Henry Thomas (Simon) and Mark Blucas (Neil). They lack the charm and attraction the book suggests, and Simon, in particular, is not given the time and space to show the sensitivity that his character shows in the book. The other actors, especially Rose Byrne (Rose), the wonderful Bill Nighy (James Mortmain), and Tara Fitzgerald (Topaz), give more than commendable performances, in contrast. The problem is that Fywell does not trust his cast enough; where they could carry the weight of the film on their faces, he pulls the camera away and gives us their surroundings. This is particularly noticable in scenes where Cassandra is imagining what is portrayed on the screen; we cannot help but feel that by showing her imaginings graphically rather than via their appearance on her face, Fywell is refusing the risk of letting his actress tell a story unaided. And then, sometimes, it becomes apparent that Fywell is losing out on high emotion because he prefers to watch his characters from a distance. Underplaying the emotions of a set of characters when you have such an excellent cast on hand can only be an error of judgement.

I Capture the Castle is nonetheless an eminently watchable film and it probably bears a second viewing as well. I cannot go so far as to say that Dodie Smith would find it pleasing, but as a reader, I certainly do. It watches humanity make a mess of itself and still makes life seem beautiful and and worth living, even in its messiness. Few great books are ever adapted into great films--so if a good book is adapted into a good film, what more can we, as audience, possibly ask for?

Film rating: 4/5