What Your Favourite Pride and Prejudice Adaptation Says About You

Photo courtesy of IMDB

Whether you prefer the romantic 2005 movie or the more faithful, unhurried 1995 version, few adaptations inspire debate like Pride and Prejudice, and news of the upcoming Netflix mini-series has probably stirred some intense emotions in you. Will the new adaptation right the wrongs of its predecessors? Will it finally give us the version that unites both camps? 

Either way, it is a truth universally acknowledged that whichever camp you’re in and however many times you’ve rewatched your favorite version, your choice probably says more about your personality than you think.

The Traditionalists

If you’re loyal to the 1995 BBC version, I’m going to guess that you’re an ISTJ or ESTJ, and yours is, in your own view, the most Austen position of all.

You prefer the version that takes its time—six episodes, slow tempo, every character faithfully depicted. Mr. Collins is insufferable. Lydia Bennet a social liability. Mrs. Bennet is truly bumpkinly (I love that word). Even Mr. Darcy, while played by the undeniably charming Colin Firth, comes across as a massive buffoon. Nothing is polished to be more palatable, which is precisely why you like it.

You don’t need the novel to be improved, only done properly. You are suspicious of adaptations that tidy people up or rush the emotional payoff, the same way you are suspicious of people who over-explain or over-perform. If something takes time—like Darcy and Lizzy’s gradual understanding that they are both proud and prejudiced—you’re willing to wait.

Traditionalists are the type of people who notice when something strays from the spirit of the original, and they’re rarely fooled by style over substance. You remember what was said, what was meant, and what should have happened. That’s why Austen would have given you very little page time and made you absolutely indispensable to the plot.

The Romantics

If your favorite version is the 2005 film, you are probably an INFP, ENFP, ISFP or ESFP, and you experience the world at a higher emotional resolution than most people, which is both a gift and a curse.

Yours is the adaptation that feels, and does so by employing pathetic fallacy to reinforce the emotional atmosphere of each scene. The rain during Mr. Darcy’s disastrous first proposal, the mist hanging over the fields as Elizabeth Bennet wanders alone, the hushed stillness of Pemberley—everything underscored by ambient music. You respond to it because that is how you experience the world.

Romantics have the special gift of making ordinary things feel magical. You observe the world, you experience its unassuming charm. You care less for accuracy than you do about the emotional core of the movie, which you want to experience and deeply. This film builds atmosphere instead of sticking rigidly to the text, and to you, that makes it more—not less—faithful to the book.

When Mr. Darcy flexes his hand, your heart skips a beat, and it feels more real than any word on a page. Austen would have been charmed by you; she might even have made you one of the Bennet sisters.

The Contrarians

If your version is The Other Bennet Sister, you are probably an ESTP, INTP or ENTP, and you chose the one adaptation that looks at one of the most beloved novels in English literature and says, essentially, “yes, but what about her.”

You are drawn to alternative angles, prefer treading your own path, and suspect there is more truth to uncover than the well-worn one. That’s why the idea of taking Mary Bennet—remembered, if at all, as awkward and moralizing—and building an entire show around her appeals to you. The series questions an order everyone else has blindly accepted. And you have never been especially interested in the version of events everyone agreed was important.

There is something uniquely satisfying in placing at the center a character who is neither conventionally beautiful nor a social butterfly, and watching her come into herself once she is no longer trapped in the environment that made her feel “not enough.” It feels real to you, closer to how things actually are. You like things that are a bit off-center, a bit less curated and not trying too hard. Austen would have found you slightly inconvenient and very interesting.

The Perfectionists 

If your version is the one that hasn’t been released yet, you are probably an INTJ, ENTJ, ISTP or ENFJ, and you are watching the Netflix announcement with hope.

You’ve seen what has already been made, and you rewatch each adaptation in the same way you observe life—already aware of where it needs work. The 1995 gets the structure right but there's far too much dialogue and unnecessary extra scenes. The 2005 captures the feeling but lets precision slip. You don’t see why those elements should be so difficult to align. The promise of a new adaptation holds your attention because it might, finally, meet the standard you’ve had in your head all along.

In life, you immediately know how something could be improved, and you don’t experience that as criticism so much as clarity. You expect things to hold together, to be thought through and executed without compromise. That’s how you approach your own work, too. People find you reassuring because you’re competent. Austen would have admired you, and then given you just enough self-awareness to realize that, occasionally, your notes are getting in the way of simply enjoying the thing.

The Purists

If you’re firmly in the “the book was better” camp, you are probably an INFJ, ISFJ or ESFJ, and, yes, you’ve watched the adaptations, but you found them all woeful in comparison to the real deal. You believe that the genius of Austen’s writing isn’t something that can be put on screen at all.

You feel this in the way a line is delivered too directly, or a glance made too obvious, or where music steps in to underline what was already clear. What Jane Austen leaves in subtext—her irony, her restraint—gets over-explained or overstated. You notice every time a subtlety is traded for clarity. You understand why adaptations do it. You just don’t like it, even if it can’t be helped.

You notice that Georgiana Darcy is never portrayed correctly, and it bothers you. So you return to the novel. Again and again, you come back to the same passages and read them with fresh eyes, because their meaning evolves and matures as you do. Austen would have written you as the one who understood exactly what was happening before anyone else did. 

Whatever Your Version

Let’s acknowledge that Austen herself would find this entire debate absurd. The entire premise of Pride and Prejudice is that people are convinced their way of seeing things is the correct one. These “adaptation wars” are just a very modern way of proving her point—it’s less about which version is objectively superior and more about what each of us is looking for when we return to the story. Whether that's fidelity, feeling, subversion, perfection, or the thing itself, we are all, in our own way, simply trying to find the version of Elizabeth Bennet who makes the most sense to us.

As for me, I’m just happy that they keep making new ones—because I could watch and rewatch and reread them until the end of time.