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Dr Barnita Bagchi

Postcolonial Theory

12 November 2019

Adapting the Subaltern: Patricia Rozema’s Mansfield Park

Patricia Rozema’s adaptation of Jane Austen’s 1814 Mansfield Park was not received

very well by many Austen-enthusiasts. A quick perusal of its IMDb (Internet Movie Database)

page, for example, shows a great discontent. The most popular reviews are one, two and

three star reviews that all share the same premise: it was “badly done”; the text was not

handled with the respect it deserved, Sir Thomas’ portrayal was offensive and inaccurate,

and all together the movie was sloppily pasted together from various writings of Austen,

where it really should have been only the book. One even asks the question: “Can there be a

worst Austen movie out there?” (One could ask whether ‘Austen movies’ truly exist.) This is

not to say, however, that the movie is entirely despised; the average score is a 7.1. However,

the vehemence of the reviews, and the fact that these reviews are the most popular, speaks

to how polarizing this adaptation is. I am not the first, of course, in positing that the

assessment of these reviews is not entirely fair. Many critics, such as Pamela Church Gibson

and David Monaghan, have made similar arguments. The question, therefore, of whether

this adaptation is ‘worthy’ of Austen, or of the original work, is not one that interests me in

this essay. I instead propose to examine the adaptation itself more closely, and to examine

exactly how it translates and transforms many of the morals and ethics in the novel to a

more modern-day setting. I am doing this from a mostly postcolonial point of view, though I

will also incorporate other aspects of the film, such as its queer and feminist themes, which

partially intersect its postcolonial themes.

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One cannot talk about Mansfield Park in a postcolonial frame, I think, without

addressing Edward Said’s reading of the book in Culture and Imperialism. He argues that the

book, and many other ‘high-canonical’ books of its time, take part in a discourse that not

only justifies imperialism, but portrays it as desirable. This is done through “careful

strategies […] [such as] positive ideas of home, of a nation and its language, of proper order,

good behavior, moral values” (Said 81). This can easily be traced in Austen’s work, Mansfield

Park most of all. Said does so, showing the parallels between Fanny Price’s development and

Antigua, both “transported commodit[ies]” (88). Fanny’s visit to her parent’s house in

Portsmouth is essential here, showing not only that Fanny is unfit to live here after the

wealth and luxury of Mansfield Park, but also that she is, in fact, better off than she was

before. She now has “the promise of future wealth” (89). These parallel movements in the

novel suggest that these imported goods (both Fanny and the wealth and consequence

Antigua provides) are essential; they had to be “lodged properly inward” in order for the

tension and problems in the novel to be resolved. This idea of a colony being an essential

and necessary part of life at home (‘home’ being England) is supported by the way Austen

writes (and does not write) about Antigua. Said notes that “Thomas, absent from Mansfield

Park, is never seen as present in Antigua, which elicits at most a half dozen references in the

novel” (90). In other words, Antigua is not a place in its own right; it exists only to give

consequence and wealth to the Bertrams. In this way, Mansfield Park is part of and recreates

the ideology of imperialism and colonialism. Said does note that this does not mean that

Austen (or Mansfield Park) alone are to blame for colonialism and its devastating

consequences, nor could the same be said for any other English author. The purpose,

therefore, of such a reading, is not to morally condemn a text, but to get a more full

understanding of how it is historically situated, and what its limits are. This is relevant to
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mention, because the same, in my opinion, can be said for the ‘text’ of Rozema’s Mansfield

Park. Though being disruptive in some areas, addressing the issues that Said has brought to

the fore in his reading, it also has its issues. This does not, however, make it a less valuable

text.

Pamela Church Gibson’s essay on Rozema’s adaptation gives a pretty comprehensive

overview of how (and why) it addresses the issues that Said mentioned, and many others,

such as queerness and Fanny’s characterisation, which is far more forward and wild in the

film. Her reading of the film is mostly based on the intention of the author, Rozema. In this

case, however, it is not a tracing of intention from the text, which could be seen as

speculation, but based on the intentions Rozema has herself indicated in interviews. Gibson

writes that:

[Rozema] hopes that she has “taken what was implicit in the novel and made it

explicit for a new set of readers” (Allen 2000: 25). It was necessary to make drastic

changes in order to achieve this – for the “connections between domestic realities

and imperial fictions remained necessarily weak […] in the culture in which Jane

Austen wrote” (Stewart 1993: 122). (53, my ellipses)

In other words, Mansfield Park (1999) can be viewed as much as a response to the original as

an adaptation of it. This is also evident in the way Gibson describes the ‘re-writing’ of Fanny:

“[Rozema] also gives the novel a feminist perspective it lacks through – ironically – the use of

Jane Austen’s private voice for that of Fanny Price” (53). But, as Gibson explains in her essay,

Rozema’s adaptation was not merely disruptive through the adding of feminist and

postcolonial perspectives. It also adds another layer, namely that of “a sustained ‘otherness’

of sexuality” (53). “Everywhere there are […] ‘unruly bodies’ […], on display and in action as

never before in the heritage genre” she writes, emphasizing that sexuality, both ‘other’ and
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normative, are displayed openly and, through the use of camera techniques, even leisurely.

This disruption of the expectations of a heritage film can be seen often in the film, Gibson

argues, both in the costumes, which she describes to be “often deliberately anachronistic”

(56), and the setting, which is comprised of “the gaunt buildings of Mansfield Park” (56) and

“the bleak, whitewashed interiors” (56) of the house itself. The comfort which one usually

derives from a heritage film, with picturesque landscapes, beautiful buildings and historical

clothing are taken away, to be replaced by the disruptive elements Gibson mentioned

before. It also responds, therefore, to the heritage film as a genre. Gibson’s text is an ardent

(and in my opinion, effective) defence of Rozema’s adaptation. It shows how Rozema’s

adaptation is not merely meant as sensationalist, but as a thoughtful consideration of the

text it is trying to adapt, not just to film, but to a modern-day understanding of its morals

and themes. It is mainly useful to us, however, in laying out the main issues that Rozema’s

adaptation brings up: postcolonialism, feminism, sexuality, and the conventions of the

heritage film as a genre.

In order to analyse how these issues are brought up exactly, and how they are

brought up differently, I want to use Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s concept of the subaltern.

In her article, titled “Can the Subaltern Speak?”, where she explains her understanding of

the term, she dedicates a lot of time to a critique of Foucault and (to a lesser extent)

Deleuze. She writes that “the intellectuals represent themselves as transparent” (70), or, in

other words, assume themselves to be neutral, or neutral enough to represent subaltern

groups. This, Spivak argues, is problematic, because it ignores the geopolitical background

that both theorists have, as “[i]t is impossible for contemporary French intellectuals to

imagine the kind of Power and Desire that would inhabit the unnamed subject of the Other

of Europe” (75). This is because “everything they read […] is caught within the debate of the
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production of that Other, supporting or critiquing the constitution of the Subject as Europe”

and “great care was taken to obliterate the textual ingredients with which [the Other] could

cathect” (75). In other words, intellectuals from this background, which is engaged in such a

discourse, cannot identify with people who are outside of their culture, because there is

nothing in the texts of that culture that the Other can identify with. They are, by definition,

outside of its borders, as much as Foucault and Deleuze are by definition inside of it. This

Other of Europe, as Spivak defines it, however, is not just a postcolonial subject: “I am

thinking of general nonspecialist, nonacademic population across the class spectrum, for

whom the episteme operates its silent programming function” (78). This critique of Foucault

and Deleuze presents the core argument Spivak makes in her piece, namely that the truly

subaltern, those who do not have any social mobility, cannot speak, or rather, be spoken for,

because to do so is to be “complicit in the persistent constitution of Other as the Self's

shadow” (75).

This theory of the subaltern does present a few problems. What is one to do if the

subaltern cannot speak? What is there left to be said on the subject of emancipation and

equality if those who are excluded will, according to Spivak, always be so? Many have

commented on the impossibilities Spivak’s essay presents, among whom Bernita Parry. Parry

also points out that the subaltern is not silent, though they are often not heard, and,

ironically, are also not heard by Spivak. This is a fair critique of the theory, but in the case of

Mansfield Park (1999) the Other subjects of the novel pose a real problem. Rozema cannot

truly let the indentured slaves, for example, speak for themselves, because they no longer

exist in the same way they used to. Though her understanding of the devastation of

colonialism must necessarily be better that that of Foucault and Deleuze, because she is

Canadian Native American, she must also necessarily not understand their situation fully,
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because she is also partially within the Western discourse; a discourse, it is worth

mentioning, that is still not well suited for discussions on the subject of race. This is different

from, for example, the Other subjects that are, and have often been, discussed, such as

queer subjects and the woman as Other. However, these subjects are not often discussed

within heritage films, or at least, not explicitly, or more so than in the original text. The

question is, then, how does the film solve these issues of subaltern identities? How does it

represent those that are no longer as outside of culture as they were, and how does it

represent the Others that are still considered Other?

How is, for example, gender explored differently in the film than in the book? The

character in which this difference is most evident, as Gibson also pointed out, is Fanny Price.

Fanny Price has often been criticized for being too meek and silent, so very unlike for

example Elizabeth Bennet or Emma Woodhouse. As Gibson points out, this was also

Rozema’s opinion. No wonder then that the character was changed so much. But how did

Rozema go about changing her? As Gibson has pointed out, the narration in the novel is now

done by Fanny Price herself, rather than by Austen (or a voice-over), who writes to her sister

Susan to inform her of the “news items” (Rozema 00:17:30-00:18:30) at Mansfield Park.

Fanny now has an authorial voice in the movie, in both senses of the word. Rather than

being (too) keen to forgive everybody’s faults, she points them out with the sharp, ironic

tone that Austen herself often uses in her writings. This includes Mansfield Park, but also her

juvenilia and even other books, such as when Fanny quotes Catherine Moorland from

Northanger Abbey (00:14:15-00:14:20). We also see her writing one of the early works

Austen herself wrote: “The History of England, by a Partial, Prejudiced and Ignorant

Historian”. This work, though not directly quoted, we see Fanny constructing throughout her
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education at Mansfield Park. Here, she is no longer receiving her lessons passively. We see

her engaging with what she is taught, and form her own opinions about it.

This change in her character also, necessarily, changes her relationship to Edmund.

This change can already be seen in the first scene they encounter each other, which is the

same in both the novel and the book. Fanny, after having been brought to Mansfield Park, is

overwhelmed with homesickness and cries alone in her room, where Edmund finds her. In

the book, Edmund says “My dear little cousin, […] what can be the matter?” (Austen 13) to

try and get her to speak on her sorrows. The tone is kind, but somewhat condescending. This

is no surprise, because the age difference between them is six years, Edmund being sixteen.

In the film, this is handled entirely differently. Edmund is younger, and, after seeing Fanny

cry in her room, opens with “Don’t worry. I’m all for crying, it makes your hair grow” to

which Fanny responds “Don’t make fun of me.” (Rozema 00:14:40-00:14:50). It is evident

here, that the relationship between Edmund and Fanny is different; in their first interaction,

Fanny stands up for herself, and Edmund acts less as a mentor and more as a friend, trying

to cheer her up by acting silly, rather than giving advice.

Fanny’s character development in the film is relevant in another respect: it is tied in

with the theme of slavery and brutality that plays out throughout. The one of the first

instances we hear of slavery in the film is when Fanny and Edmund go for a ride at the start

of the film, and Edmund says that there are “problems with the slaves in the plantation”, as

the abolitionists “are making inroads”. Fanny remarks that this is a good thing, but Edmund

rightly observes that they “all live off the profits”, including her (00:16:25-00:16:40). Later in

the movie, however, when Sir Thomas returns form Antigua, the “Negroes” are talked of

again, and this time, a parallel can be drawn between Fanny and them. Sir Thomas, being

seated once again at the fireplace with his family, describes the “mulattoes” in an
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objectifying way; calling them “well-featured” and “well-shaped”, and boasting he himself

“[has] one so easy and graceful in her movements – and intelligent as well!”. He compares

them to mules, saying “strangely, two mulattoes can never have children” (Rozema

00:34:30-00:34:50). This passage, striking and uncomfortable for many contemporary

viewers, is followed up seamlessly by one where both Sir Thomas and Mr Crawford

complement Fanny on her looks. As they do, Fanny turns her face uncomfortably away from

her uncle’s admiring (and sexualizing) gaze. This, however, unlike in the book, is not caused

by modesty. As she later remarks herself, she “will not be sold off like one of [her uncle]’s

slaves” (Rozema 00:37:08-00:37:10). These instances are the more explicit times when

slaves are mentioned, though they are also often present in other ways. When Fanny first

travels to Mansfield Park, she hears them singing on a slave ship that is passing the shore,

and hears them again when she returns to Portsmouth. Later, when the credits play, we hear

that singing once again, as part of a song called Djongna, which translates to ‘slavery’. They

are also present in Tom’s illness, which, as Fanny discovers when she discovers his drawings

(01:27:35-01:28:50), is caused by the atrocities he has seen in Antigua, rather than

thoughtlessness. We also experience Fanny’s emancipation also through how she

experiences the guilt of slavery of those who live off its profits. Her dismissal and

condemnation of slavery and Sir Thomas is only believable because she is more emancipated

in the movie.

Before I analyse how Fanny, and the ‘slaves’ as subaltern subjects are treated in the

movie further, I want to digress for a brief moment to analyse another subaltern subject that

makes an appearance in the movie. Many have commented on the queer moments that

appear in the book of Mansfield Park, and Rozema has explicitly explored these moments in

the film. Fanny Price is admired and seduced by Mary Crawford throughout the story, as
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much as Edmund is. We see this in one of the more sexual scenes (in both the book and the

movie) when the household is preparing for the play, in which many can act out their

feelings. Mary goes to Fanny’s room to rehearse, and finds Edmund already there. Rather

than rehearse together and let Fanny watch, as is done in the book, Mary allows Edmund to

watch as she plays out the scene with Fanny, touching her sensually (00:30:20-00:31:05).

This queerness, though arguably present in the novel – for example when Mary plays the

harp for Fanny, which she also does to court Edmund (Austen 163) – it is brought out and

made explicit here, and again when Mary helps Fanny out of the rain and admires her as she

takes off her wet clothes. Interestingly, in this instance, Fanny is less uncomfortable then

when admired by her uncle and Mr. Crawford. In the film then, it is not merely suggested,

but made probable, than both Mary and Fanny are not straight.

The film adaptation of Mansfield Park by Patricia Rozema set itself a difficult task

when adapting the novel to more “modern sensibilities” (Rozema 01:43:50-01:43:55). As

Spivak’s theory on the subaltern points out, there are real ethical difficulties in representing

subaltern identities that are not familiar or do not fit into the discourse of the

representor/representative. This is evident in the different ways in which these identities

have been adapted in the film. Fanny is given a “clear, strong voice”, as Sir Thomas says it at

the end of the film (01:34:18-01:34:20); the queerness, which was subtext in the book, has

been brought to the front, and, perhaps, most importantly, the slaves on the plantation in

Antigua, that are “paying for this party” (Rozema 00:25:14-00:25:17) at Mansfield Park, are

no longer to be forgotten. Yet they cannot be called ‘represented’, because they are not

given a voice. The only voice we hear is one far off, barely intelligible, from a ship passing by.

They are only seen on screen when Tom’s drawings are discovered. They are, in other words,

a sort of menacing presence, never fully brought to the foreground, but decidedly present,
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unlike in the book. Rozema chose to represent the story of slaves within this heritage text,

not by representing them, but by representing to us their presence in these texts. This

presence we then experience through a heroine that is far more emancipated, and more

worldly, than she was in the book, making her more capable of rejecting this system of

exploitation that Sir Thomas uses to get his wealth. The adaptation isn’t flawless, however,

because, like any of Austen’s books, it must end happily. There must be a marriage, there

must be harmony once again in the lives of the people it involves. Austen even explicitly

comments on this, in a bit of metafiction in the book (370). The problem this brings is that,

though the film makes a good attempt to solve the tension of the menacing presence of the

slaves in the end, it does not give an accurate representation of their story. The problems of

colonialism and imperialism were not solved because Sir Thomas “abandoned his pursuits in

Antigua”(01:46:47-01:46:55), nor are they solved in modern days. This is not to say that it is

an unsuccessful adaptation. Merely, it suggests that, the adaptation of the subaltern, to film

and to representation, is not something to be considered uncritically.

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Works Cited

Austen, Jane. Mansfield Park. Wordsworth Editions Limited, 1814.

----------------. Love And Freindship And Other Early Works. Project Gutenberg, 2008,

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1212/1212-h/1212-h.htm#link2H_4_0029.

Accessed 14 Nov 2019.

Gibson, Pamela Church. "Otherness, Transgression And The Postcolonial Perspective: Patricia

Rozema's Mansfield Park". Janespotting And Beyond: British Heritage Retrovisions

Since The Mid-1990S, Eckart Voigts-Virchow, Gunter Narr Verlag, 2004, pp. 51-63,

https://books.google.nl/books?

hl=nl&lr=&id=DwMSx3q9Z4gC&oi=fnd&pg=PA51&dq=Otherness,

+Transgression+and+the+Postcolonial+Perspective:+Patricia+Rozema

%27s+Mansfield+Park&ots=uXSwKXCLLJ&sig=Z1r4lbugip1S7PropMrd6lA5Sbw#v=one

page&q&f=false.

IMDb. "Mansfield Park (1999) - User Reviews".

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0178737/reviews?ref_=tt_urv. Accessed 12 Nov 2019.

Monaghan, David. "In Defense Of Patricia Rozema's Mansfield Park". Persuasions, vol 28,

2006, pp. 59-64.

Parry, Benita. "Problems In Current Theories Of Colonial Discourse". Oxford Literary Review,

vol 9, no. 1, 1987, pp. 27-58.

Rozema, Patricia, and Jane Austen. Mansfield Park. British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC),

1999.

Said, Edward W. "Jane Austen And Empire". Culture And Imperialism, 1st ed., Vintage Books,

1994, pp. 80-97.

Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. "Can The Subaltern Speak?". Colonial Discourse And Post-
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Colonial Theory: A Reader, Laura Chrisman and Patrick Williams, Routledge, 2015, pp.

66-111.