It’s easy to
imagine a different version of Belle.
Told through the eyes of Tom Wilkinson’s William Murray, the 1st
Earl of Mansfield and great-uncle of the titular character, or the idealistic
lawyer played by Sam Reid who falls in love with her, this alternate version
positions Dido Belle Lindsay, the illegitimate daughter of a British Royal Navy
officer and an African slave, as a prominent but still secondary character. Her
nobility and courage inspires the people around her to overcome their
prejudices and become more tolerant, showing them that people of color can be
worthy of their respect. Like the actual film, this hypothetical one climaxes
with Murray delivering his verdict for the famous Zong massacre insurance case, except here, his rousing speech
demonstrates that he’s no longer racist, that he’s now so not racist that he’ll rule against
the slave trade establishment that was so integral to 18th-century
England’s economy. Characters weep tears of joy and pride, and audiences cheer,
because look at that, people can
change for the better, and haven’t we come so far from those days?
Luckily, thanks to director Amma
Asante and writer Misan Sagay (both of whom are black women, a true rarity for
a semi-mainstream movie), that isn’t the Belle
we got. To be sure, it has a feel-good buoyancy that puts it closer tonally to
a frothy romantic comedy than the somber gravitas of Great Movies like, say, 12 Years a Slave, and it doesn’t upend
the tropes of the costume dramas in whose footsteps it follows so much as it
puts them in a new light. Yet, this film still illustrates just how much those
in charge of a movie’s production influence the way a particular story is told
and how something as deceptively simple as a point-of-view shift can make what
would otherwise feel clichéd seem interesting again.
Despite the requisite decadent
sets and costumes and sleekly pretty cinematography, the movie avoids indulging
too much in quixotic notions of the past and never completely loses sight of
how oppressive society was then for anyone who wasn’t a wealthy, white man.
Perhaps this is best exemplified by its depiction of upper-class courtship
rituals and etiquette. While Dido and Lady Elizabeth Murray (Sarah Gadon), her
companion and another ward taken in by the Earl, occasionally talk about
wanting to fall in love, their search for appropriate suitors is portrayed not
as romantic, but rather, as a desperate transaction, where they’re goods being
exchanged. Instead of being chivalric and swoon-worthy, the men they meet are
egotistical, leering and cruel even as they affect gentlemanly airs, disposing
of their prospective brides the instant a match appears unfavorable to them.
When one (played by Tom Felton, a.k.a. Draco Malfoy, so you know he’s trouble) harasses
Dido while spouting racist invectives at her, she can only respond by telling
him he’s not being polite; societal and class expectations that women be poised
and courteous at all times prohibit her from reacting more assertively. The
characters – and, by extension, the film – recognize that there’s only one
thing at the heart of the elaborate charade that’s courtship and marriage:
money. For men, a good union enhanced their fortune and reputation, but for
upper-class women, who were barred from taking up any occupation that might
provide them with their own income, it meant security, an assurance that they
wouldn’t end up on the streets when their parents were gone. At one point,
while on her way to visit yet another potential husband, Elizabeth even says, “We
are but their property.” Here, Belle’s
exploration of race relations gets an intriguing twist when Dido gets a
significant inheritance from her father after his death, whereas Elizabeth is
due to get nothing, her father promising to give everything he has to his
second family but none to her. In this sense, then, though she still has to
contend with the stigma placed on her skin color and origins, Dido actually has
more freedom than her white counterpart; she has the privilege of seeing
marriage as an option, rather than a necessity.
This is one of the ways in which
Belle offers more nuance to its
dissection of race and gender than similar historical flicks, which too frequently
reduce such factors to simplistic, black-and-white (pun intended and instantly
regretted) dichotomies. More than anything else, the decision to tell the story
through Dido’s perspective is key to allowing the film to diverge from traditional
character arcs. Brought to life by a nicely restrained performance by Gugu
Mbatha-Raw, she is undeniably the focal point of the narrative, which is less
about her teaching others to accept her and more about her learning to embrace
herself. Case in point, she and Sam Reid’s
lawyer John Davinier fall for each other not because of an especially strong
physical attraction (the actors’ chemistry is more simmering than outright
electric), but because they admire each other’s ideals and they treat each
other as equals (she’s half-black and the daughter of a slave, he’s poor,
beneath a woman of aristocratic rank). Moreover, while the climax of the movie
may technically be that verdict scene, which operates more as an affirmation of
Dido’s worth and beliefs than as a redemption of Murray, I’d argue that the
actual climax comes before, when Dido informs the wealthy Ashfords that she’s
ending her engagement with their second son, declaring that she has no desire
to marry into a family that would treat her as its shame, her race and
background as something that must be overlooked or forgiven. It’s a genuinely
triumphant moment, particularly when contrasted with a distressing scene from early
in the movie, where Dido sits alone after finding out what happened in the Zong killings and starts hitting
herself, grabbing at her face and body as if wanting to tear her skin off.
This isn’t a flawless movie, of
course. It can be a bit too on-the-nose, in part due to dialogue that, at
times, spells out ideas or characters’ thoughts too explicitly and a saccharine,
cue-the-swelling-strings score by the usually reliable Rachel Portman. Still,
it’s a thoroughly enjoyable period piece in the tradition of Jane Austen adaptations
and a welcome example of how much richer and more compelling movies can be when
they boast diversity both behind-the-scenes and on screen.
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