Lady Chatterley's Lover (2022)

Score: 4 / 5

This is the kind of film I sort of expected to see more often while Downton Abbey was running strong. A period romance, taking place around the same time, whose primary concern is the way real people navigate the strictures of high society in Britain, specifically as the Edwardian era ended. The rise of technology, the speed of mobility, and the collapse of British imperialism meant major changes to the fabric of society, not the least of which included a sexual revolution of sorts. But D.H. Lawrence's infamous book -- banned for obscenities in many countries over many decades after its initial publication in the Roaring Twenties -- had a lot more on its mind than smut, despite its popular reputation.

And while the story is now fairly well-known, or at least its infamy is, this recent British adaptation (released on Netflix last week) manages to nail the tone and style in ways I haven't seen before. In case you don't know, the plot is essentially this: A wealthy woman, married to a disabled war veteran, starts an affair with her handsome gardener in order to conceive a child; they end up falling in love. That's it. It's not particularly original, but the manner of its dramatization is what makes it fascinating. It was one of the first popular novels at the time to describe in salacious detail sexual activity, making it rather pornographic, and its literarily groundbreaking use of "fuck" as a verb. But adaptations that focus on the sex -- as media and popular opinion has for almost a century now -- miss Lawrence's concerns over war and its fallout, industrialization and its detrimental effect on individuals seeking a meaningful life, and the disconnect between one's mind and body.

This last was arguably Lawrence's impetus for writing the story. Constance Reid becomes a sympathetic character early on, even in this film, as an intelligent and modestly bohemian woman suddenly married to a stuffy, old-money Baronet named Clifford Chatterley. The film's use of handheld cameras keeps us firmly locked on her perspective -- brought to vivid life by an excellent Emma Corrin -- as she fractures under the pressures of high society expectations. Connie's not as straight-laced as Clifford and has more trouble disguising her emotions, especially when her husband returns from war paralyzed from the waist down. She becomes his caretaker and wife, though her satisfaction with the latter wanes quickly when she can't explore her sexuality; they were apparently able to consummate exactly once after their wedding before he returned to the front.

Director Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre and her cinematographer Benoit Delhomme approach the project like it's an indie drama, heavily using natural light and dynamic shots with shifting focus to arrest our attention. The film shimmers slightly, through some trick of the camera, not unlike Ang Lee's Sense and Sensibility or Alan Rickman's A Little Chaos, and it breathes deeply with calm confidence in its storytelling acumen. Connie's need to be touched reaches a climax (ha ha) when her husband exhibits no interest in getting creative for pleasure and they discuss the need for an heir. After catching a glimpse of the gamekeeper Oliver (Jack O'Connell) and sharing a few brief interactions, she initiates the affair. He is obsessively class-conscious and only calls her "m'lady," in a way that someone of inferior rank has been trained from birth to refer to members of higher socioeconomic class.

Writer David Magee (Finding Neverland, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, Life of Pi, Mary Poppins Returns) masterfully adapts the material to engage just as much with the intellectual and emotional connection between Connie and Oliver as with the sex. It's like a coming-of-age story in that Connie opens her eyes to a life she clearly wanted and was unexpectedly and untimely denied. All the performers are good, but Corrin and O'Connell are exquisite in their bare simplicity and vulnerability; we believe every beat of their interactions, and the film itself feels a bit like it's all happening in real time, so we're very much taking the journey of discovery with them. Even the sex is really astonishing to behold in this film because, in the director's sensitive and capable hands, it's wildly erotic because it feels authentic. It's not performative or exhibitionistic; like most real sex, it's unique and authentic to the people engaging in it. It doesn't advance the plot, per se, it is just raw connection between mutually desirous lovers. You don't see that often in films or television, and that makes this a magnificent breath of fresh air.

The main theme, arguably, of the story is the importance of marrying one's mind and body in order to live authentically and satisfyingly. Lawrence was highly concerned that the British were too heady, too strict and mindful, and had lost touch with bodies and flesh and physical work. It's telling that Clifford spends a lot of time talking to business associates about nearby mining protests. One wonders if Lawrence saw Connie's journey of self-actualization as a means of inspiring or healing people after the war, or at least of embracing a certain simplicity and individuality after such big international horrors. Regardless, this film establishes itself as perhaps the most interesting and faithful adaptation I've yet seen of the source material and as an exceptional film in its own right. Plus, Joely Richardson pops in a few times as the Chatterley's suspicious maid, and that's just fun!