Book adaptations are having a bit of a moment in 2026. Starting with People We Meet on Vacation in early January, this year has quickly become the year of book adaptations in both film and television. There have been many fresh jumps from page-to-screen such as the aforementioned Netflix picture, Andy Weihr’s Project Hail Mary (likely to receive several Oscar nominations including Best Picture), and we will cap off the year in November and December with the first-ever adaptations of Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping and Frank Herbert’s Dune: Messiah (under the title Dune: Part Three). Alongside these fresh adaptations, there have been many more readaptations or fresh-takes on previously adapted material.
'Wuthering Heights' Review
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Wuthering Heights began the year with what might be the worst page-to-screen adaptation in the history of film (hyperbolic, but it was definitively a low point for the industry). Following that, we had what is arguably the biggest book adaptation in a century with Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey (Gone with the Wind still holds the crown in adjusted-for-inflation box office revenue). The Odyssey will likely win the Oscar for Best Picture next Spring, and has catapulted itself to the 11th highest grossing film of all time with $1.7 billion at the global box office, smashing the previous record for an R-rated film (Deadpool & Wolverine at $1.3 Billion). Film is, however, not the only place we have received adaptations this year. A few weeks back, Netflix released a 7-episode miniseries of East of Eden (a faithful, but not family friendly adaptation of John Steinbeck’s iconic novel). In December, Netflix will release another Pride and Prejudice mini-series, adding to the long list of adaptations of Jane Austen’s most famous work.
With this surrounding context, it was with great surprise earlier this year when I saw a trailer for another film adaptation of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. Her first novel, “Sense and Sensibility”, explores the relationships and longings of two sisters with diametrically opposed temperaments, Elinor (the calm and composed elder sister, representing sensibility) and Marianne (the fiery, passionate and deeply affective younger sister, representing sense). Oft misinterpreted, Austen does not argue for one disposition as superior or less inclined to folly, but rather invites the reader into a deeply meditative exploration of the two sisters’ path to virtue within their respective personalities. What unfolds over the course of Austen’s premier novel is a beautiful story of sisterhood, desire, and the sufferings and rewards of profound integrity. This newest adaptation of the source material stands in a long line of attempts (many a success) to bring this story to life on the silver screen, including the universally loved and critically acclaimed 1995 adaptation starring Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, and Alan Rickman.
The early glimpses we saw into this newest take on Sense and Sensibility promised a darker (lighting, not tonally), earthy take on the material with Daisy Edgar Jones (Normal People, Twisters) starring as Elinor Dashwood alongside Esme Creed-Miles as Marianne Dashwood, George MacKay as Edward Ferrars and Herbert Nordrum as Colonel Brandon. In the press runs leading up to the film and its social media footprint, it was clear the marketing strategy centered around making this film about a central concept in our cultural consciousness: the phenomenon of yearning. Every post, every interview, every advertisement pitches the film as a meditation on yearning. So, was this film successful at producing its intended result?
Yes, but only if you do not drum up the hyperbolic claims by some online outlets (some of which have said there are “biblical levels of yearning”... whatever that means). I found George Oakley’s adaptation of Sense and Sensibility to deliver on this central premise. The movie does so through its earthy tone, lush score, and patient, if sometimes exceedingly awkward, dialogue. The latter of which I think carries the most weight in its attempts to convey the phenomenon of yearning. In particular, Oakley seems to contrast the morality of yearning with the immorality of grasping in the awkwardness, or unawkwardness, of the dialogue between characters.
Of the men in the film, Willoughby, who is infamously rash and a “love bomber”, has the least restraint in his words. He is remarkably charming, quick-witted and well-spoken. This makes him the subject of Marianne’s desire. He appears externally “passionate” and holds nothing back. Willoughby is able to be as smooth, charming and perfectly unawkward because he has chosen not to train his desire at all. This charm and winsome character is contrasted sharply with the awkwardness of dialogue from the two most virtuous men in the film, Edward Ferrars and Colonel Brandon. Their line delivery is remarkably restrained, particularly in their interactions with their respective love interests, Elinor and Marianne. In every scene centered around Edward and Elinor or Colonel Brandon and Marianne, the body language of the men portrays a deep sense of desire which their prudence is restraining their tongue from expressing because it is not yet the adequate time. Every close up of the two men feels like there is unrequited desire on the edge of their lips, but their desire is unrequited precisely because it is desire and not utility. Their hearts are spacious enough to desire Elinor and Marianne without turning them into an object for consumption or pleasant feelings (which is precisely what Willoughby does). The genius of the film is thus in presenting the audience with a case study for understanding the true nature of yearning: Edward and Colonel versus Willoughby. Inside of each of us, there is an Edward and a Willoughby; someone who has the capacity to behold and someone who seeks to consume. Only when we choose to train desire so it can properly find its resting place are we able to yearn. Yet yearning is a dreadful and awkward thing, because it necessitates the recognition of mystery, which is by definition uncertain and dramatic.
While there is much to admire about this new adaptation of Austen’s iconic novel, it is this deeply phenomenological exploration of yearning that justifies it as a worthy addition to the long line of dramatizations of Sense and Sensibility. It is refreshing to see a film tackle the subject of yearning in such a violently restrained manner because the agony of yearning has disappeared in Western culture due to the positivization of love. As the great contemporary Korean Catholic phenomenologist Byung Chul-Han puts it in his work, The Agony of Eros, yearning or desire (and therefore love) is being “positivized into a formula for enjoyment. Above all, love is supposed to generate pleasant feelings. It no longer represents plot, narration, or drama—only inconsequential emotion and arousal. It is free from the negativity of injury, assault, or crashing. To fall (in love) would already be too negative. Yet it is precisely such negativity that constitutes love: ‘Love is not a possibility, is not due to our initiative, is without reason; it invades and wounds us.’”
If you have an empty calendar this weekend, do yourself a favor and schedule a trip to your local theater to see this on the big screen, it is well worth it. Sense and Sensibility (2026) is a 9/10 and my second favorite movie of the year behind Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey.
Thanks for the insights into this movie. I haven't seen any adaption of Sense and Sensibility but will make an effort to see this & the Emma Thompson version as well. I always appreciate when G-rated source material does not become an R-rated (or worse) movie, a la Wuthering Heights.