Robert Sacheli on the Brideshead Revisited Remake

From Dandyism.net:

The screenplay finds its focus in the sins committed in the guise of familial love, and it’s the players who portray the older generation who come to dominate the movie. Emma Thompson, wearing her steel-gray hair as if it were a royal tiara, suggests a note of desperation beneath Lady Marchmain’s armor of piety and manipulativeness. Michael Gambon taps into the veiled Byronic swagger that Waugh ascribes to Lord Marchmain’s appetites and anger. Instead of Gielgud’s delightful old loon, Patrick Malahide brings out the malevolence in Ned Ryder’s obliviousness, underscoring the emotional lure of the Marchmain clan for poor Charles.

Will some viewers be disappointed that this is not their cherished vision of “Brideshead”? Certainly. But then again, the strength of that that personal vision certainly ought to endure assaults more egregious than a commercial film.

As for me, I finally made it to Brideshead. My pilgrimage to Castle Howard took place more than a decade after I’d first seen the series, and though it was my first visit it had a the feeling of a return. The rooms, the art and the grounds — particularly the fountain — were suitably impressive when liberated from the proportions of a television screen. But part of me was strangely let down. I expected a gift shop stocked with Fair Isle pullovers and antique stud boxes. I found teddy-bear key chains, refrigerator magnets and frisbees. In the end, it didn’t matter. I still had my memories of “Brideshead,” distilled as they were through Evelyn Waugh and Charles Ryder and Jeremy Irons.

But now I had my own remembrance of the place to add to them. I also had something more, a powerful talisman of memory that neither the story’s author nor his characters could have imagined.

I had the refrigerator magnet.