★★★☆☆
Thomas Vinterberg’s adaptation of the classic Hardy novel, set in the luscious Dorset countryside, is defined by twocentral performances: those of Carey Mulligan and Michael Sheen. Mulligan’s role as the feisty Bathsheba Everdene, who inherits her late uncle’s farm and combats patriarchal power to maintain it, is eclipsing. Despite a physical fragility that would seem somewhat unsuitable for a young farm girl, Mulligan manages to inhabit the rustic scenes effortlessly. She becomes a part of the wild landscape; the tangled wisps of her hair, threaded in a tumbling plait, blow serenely in the wind as she charges across the hills on a glossy horse, which she rebelliously refuses to ride side-saddled. There is an unpredictability to her behaviour, an impulsiveness that Mulligan’s giggly playfulness conveys perfectly. But there is also a gravity and intensely feeling side to her that is captured by the actress’s velvety voice.
Complementing this vivacious performance is a master class in interiority from Michael Sheen, playing Bathsheba’s infatuated neighbour. Vinterberg keeps Sheen’s character at a distance from the audience; all we are told is that he was ‘jilted’ as a young man, and the sole evidence of his deep insecurities is a nervously twitching smile and Sheen’s uncomfortable nasal stutters. He remains a mysterious back- ground figure, whose presence lingers but whose character is never fully revealed until the film’s conclusion. He provides a necessary intrigue to a story whose characters are largely transparent.
In dismal contrast to the impeccable casting of these two roles is the horrendous choice of Tom Sturridge as the arrogant Sergeant Troy who seduces Bathsheba. Sturridge’s gimpish grin is more alarming than alluring, and he delivers his supposedly enticing lines awkwardly. The famously erotic sword-fighting scene is remdered almost farcical by Sturridge’s attempt at a smoulder, meaning Mulligan’s breathless arousal comes across as ridiculous, however well acted. The romance of the film is, thankfully, redeemed by the relationship between Mulligan and Matthias Schoenaerts’ unfailingly loyal Farmer Oak. In a farmhouse dinner scene, the two sit at either end of a lengthy wooden table under glowingamplight. The aching longing between the two as they exchange glances with each other, entirely oblivious of the ‘madding crowd’ that surrounds them, is enough to move even the most cynical of viewers.
Perhaps the most remarkable achievement of the film, however, is the sensuality of its pastoral setting. Vinterberg doesn’t just show us the rural landscape, he lets us feel it. The heaving breath of Mulligan as she gallops along the hillside, the thudding of the horse’s hooves, the thundering waves of the Jurassic coast; all are foregrounded over the melodic soundtrack of the film, so that the audience is wholly envelope. Vinterberg’s film accesses the essence of Hardy’s novel: a sense of primal unity with the bucolic landscape. He manages to immerse us in the vitality of the outdoor world, whilst the echoing halls of Boldwood’s mansion feel cold and barren.
The film is not innovative, and is perhaps a little clumsy, but few will contest that the choice of a non-English director has proven to be a masterstroke. Rarely do we see a director capture the rawness of the rustic setting with such finesse. Vinterberg has stripped the novel to its core, using an outsider’s perspective to rediscover the heart of the novel in the pulsating Dorset scenery.
