Sense and Sensibility flourishes with vivid visuals and ebullient performances. It will likely do much for diehard Austen fans, and even recent converts to her literature.
One can’t be blamed for questioning the necessity of another Sense and Sensibility. It’s one of Jane Austen’s best, most iconic books, even amongst her unparalleled catalogue, but it has also seen several feature films, TV specials and loose reimaginings since its 1811 release. However, as Greta Gerwig’s Little Women shows, rising voices can still reimagine or leave their stamp on established classics. This 2026 adaptation does just that, capturing the book’s beautiful realism and romantic heartstrings while thematically honing in on individuality, a modern and timeless subject simultaneously.
In the director’s chair is Georgia Oakley, who previously helmed the 2022 gem Blue Jean. A thoughtful drama about a lesbian teacher trying to help a student during Section 28 legislation, it was a stirring picture with deep emotional intrigue and intelligence. Oakley’s fascination with anguished human hearts permeates writer Diana Reid’s adaptation of this literary giant. It gleefully maintains the tropes and energy of an Austen classic, while its understanding of class struggle and individual agency makes it as on-brand for Oakley as it is for Austen.
Avid readers know the story by heart: the Dashwood family patriarch dies, leaving no permanent home and causing great financial hardship for his second wife (Caitriona Balfe) and three daughters, Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret (Daisy Edgar-Jones, Esme Creed-Miles, and Bodhi Rae Breathnach, respectively). In their search for a new home, the elder daughters, Elinor and Marianne, become infatuated with potential bachelors. The first is Elinor with the dashing Edward Ferras (George MacKay). Elinor assumes he’ll be snooty and privileged because of his ties to their half-brother’s elitist wife, but he proves polite, well-read, and sensitive.
Oakley, Reid and team bring the initial scenes between Elinor and Edward to life with stellar colour and whimsy. String music courtesy of Roger Goula’s marvellous score fills the picturesque sequences of candlelit halls, expansive nature walks, and stilted romantic dialogue that Austen uniquely transformed into wit and poetry. Euphoria and engrossment emerge from these creative sweets. Wide shots, especially of exterior scenes, capture the setting’s vast landscapes, showcasing vast possibilities for better or worse.
The visual dimensions of space hint at uncertainty and inner turbulence as much as elegant society and romantic possibility. This is eloquent craftsmanship, yet it eventually shifts from initial sunny palettes to something more industrial and bleak the further into the story we go, particularly once a visit to London is on the cards. It’s an understandable creative choice, but the gradual loss of colour and light does result in more dourness than perhaps intended. At times the mise-en-scene feels more Jane Eyre than Jane Austen.
Conflict continues to grow when the family moves from Sussex to Devon, putting distance between Elinor and Edward while granting Marianne the prospect of two potential suitors – the much older and dreadfully gloomy Colonel Brandon (Herbert Nordrum) or the seemingly sly John Willoughby (Frank Dillane). The anxieties this generates, inflamed by the backdrop of money woes, form the crux of the film, as they do in the source material. It ticks the right boxes, examining love and desire as many of Austen’s best works do. However, in taking their time to bask in the complexities of their dilemmas – unromanticising romance, so to speak – Reid’s script and Oakley’s direction tap into a broad array of emotional resonance. When one considers Austen’s approach to romantic stories, this is a deceptively faithful adaptation.
This picture finds the loudest voice in its portrayal of character and class. This is a story in which social class puts wrenches in people’s desires as much as geographical distance. This will be little surprise to Austen connoisseurs, but this film understands that within the muddy heterotopias of class, one’s true character can be found. First impressions are a recurring theme throughout as Elinor and Marianne find their perceptions of people and themselves challenged by actions, words and nature. Underneath Marianne’s exuberant lack of filter is someone who fears loneliness, and Elinor’s selflessness can do as much harm as good by walling her off from the experiences she craves. A cynical man can hide a wounded, compassionate soul, and one can be torn between love and duty, rather than embody both.
Enthusiastic performances inject the story and characters with vibrant flair. Edgar-Jones brings that same subdued strife and composition that made her work in Normal People so infectious and commanding. Her delicate, tense chemistry with an equally stellar Creed-Miles is second only to the simmering butterflies her scenes with MacKay create, their dynamic as romantic as an opulent sunset. The possible male suitors are all afforded agency, their own dilemmas, flaws, appeal, and even possible sleaze given weight by their performers. All the while, an array of memorable side characters are brought to life by the cast’s colourful efforts, creating a vivacious sense of life out of otherwise well-trodden territory. Best among them is Fiona Shaw, who giddily chews the scenery as the eccentric Mrs Jennings.
The film is perhaps a touch too long, as the pacing drags towards the end, even with cuts from the material. Murkier lighting choices as we move further into the film may dampen spirits more than narratively intended. Yet beneath it all is a picture that brims with spirit and bohemian pride, taking the otherwise nebulous emotions of desire and sacrifice and showcasing them through imagery and craft as dainty as it is breathtaking.
Add it up, and we get a confident, meticulous audiovisual translation of timeless source material. Benefiting from Oakley and Reid’s humanist touches -thus bringing out the deeper ambitions of the novel with great clarity – Sense and Sensibility flourishes with vivid visuals and ebullient performances. It will likely do much for diehard Austen fans, and even recent converts to her literature. If nothing else, it’s a well-deserved step up for Oakley in terms of industrial prestige.
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