Howards EndOften times, period pieces can get a bad rap for coming across as out-of-touch, reliant on costumes and manners before plot; Howards End, however, remains as relevant in its subject matter and themes as any story today about such modern social interests as feminism, class and wealth inequality, and the clashing of conservative and liberal values. Adapted from the early 20th-century novel by E. M. Forster by the celebrated Merchant Ivory Productions, Howards End reminds us how much has changed with regard to these issues since then...and how much has not.
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Through Howards End, we are introduced to three different households: the Wilcoxes, the Schlegels, and the Basts--embodying the qualities of the Old English upper-crust, urbane middle-class, and the destitute poor, respectively. Although the film affords multiple viewpoints from various characters, the main character of the film is arguably Margaret Schlegel (Emma Thompson), who after rather innocently befriending the ethereal Ruth Wilcox (Vanessa Redgrave), becomes slowly drawn into the world of high society, as her own modern values are challenged (or disregarded) by Henry Wilcox (Anthony Hopkins). The story begins the season before, when her sister Helen (Helena Bonham Carter) becomes involved with the youngest son of the Wilcox progeny, Paul (Joseph Bennett), and then believes marriage is afoot, is spurned by Paul, and then holds the Wilcoxes a grudge. Later, Helen befriends the young insurance clerk Leonard Bast (Samuel West) after absent-mindedly stealing his tattered umbrella. And, after an unfortunate turn of events, champions the young man with manic enthusiasm in her patronage to raise him up to a better life. As in the novel, Howards End is a critique (perhaps even a satire) of the Edwardian gentry in England, of the tropes associated with this society, and even the absurdities and dangers of such a way of life, manifested via the Wilcoxes. Watching Howards End, I'm always intrigued by just how thoroughly modern it is, from the class struggle to other lofty themes, and also with regards to other minutiae like the Christmas shopping excursion Margaret undertakes alongside Ruth Wilcox and the luncheon she invites her to attend; it would not feel that far removed a century later. The interactions between the Schlegels and the Wilcoxes feel authentic because the families and their members are developed with an authentic sense of familial relation. Helen and Margaret tease their brother, "Tibby" (Adrian Ross Magenty), and Henry privately chastises Charles later for a sarcastic comment he makes as a father would. So the social conflict that emerges from the story hardly feels forced or unconvincing, because the kinds of social attitudes represented in the two families is not so implausible to imagine.
Ultimately, it is Mrs. Wilcox's last will and testament which becomes the great point of dissension for the surviving members of the Wilcox family, who all know--and do not genuinely doubt--the matriarch's intentions to leave Howards End (the story draws its title from the house of the same name) to Margaret, but allow their greed and snobbery to prevent them from executing it. And yet, I think that this plants the seed of obligation in Henry's mind, which in turn eventually leads him to his eventual romantic pursuit--in his stiff way--of Margaret. After Ruth passes on, the Schlegel's cross paths once again with Leonard Bast, which in turn leads to the young women sharing their concerns about how to help the poor clerk with a group of fellow women in their society. In a scene following this, Margaret and Helen are approached on the street by Henry Wilcox, and in the course of their discussion, Henry ends up offering unsound occupational advice, which is unfortunately passed on to Mr. Bast. I wonder if Henry offers up this advise out of spite, perhaps still struggling to emotionally deal with the conflict in his heart after having allowed his daughter, Evie (Jemma Redgrave) to burn his late wife's will and perhaps his own suspicions about what Margaret's intentions were in befriending Ruth Wilcox. Or, perhaps, it is nothing more than the carelessness that comes with trading business gossip, unconcerned with the consequence, because in his circle, such things do not concern his colleagues; they concern the poor, and Henry makes his indifference toward the poor apparent to Helen when she angrily confronts him about the results of his advice later. But then again, perhaps thee is also something a bit benignly indecent about the Schlegel's conversations with a group of relative strangers about "poor Mr. Bast's" situation at all.
In a way, there is more in common with Henry Wilcox and Helen Schlegel than the two would care to admit, leaving Margaret perpetually forced to walk the tightrope of arbitrating a tenuous peace between them. Helen is as driven to her obligation to aid Mr. Bast, but in a way, she is really fulfilling a need for herself. Her philanthropy is self-satisfying, since she feels an unfulfilled ennui in her life. She embellishes key points of her case for Leonard, and ignores information which does not neatly fit in with her cause. In this, she is like a radical activist--impassioned, but unwilling to acknowledge other sides to an argument. So then, is she not to some extent selfish in the sense that Henry is selfish? When Henry opens up to Margaret about his affair with Jacky (Nicola Duffett)--who is now "Mrs. Leonard Bast"--ten years prior, he emphasizes how horrible he is for his "fall from grace", frankly far more than one might expect even from old English values. I suspect this has a large amount to do with his associations between Margaret and his late wife, Ruth, and that subconsciously, he believes he is confessing his sins not to Margaret, but to Ruth. Margaret had been previously mistaken for the late Mrs. Wilcox by Miss Avery (Barbara Hicks), the housekeeper at Howards End, who observed that the two women walked in a similar way around the venerable homestead. Perhaps this similarity is, to an extent, a part of Henry's attraction to Margaret, in combination with his likely sense of obligation in the wake of his perjurious act to conceal Ruth's will and his inner cry for forgiveness. There is a kind of obscenity in Henry Wilcox's vast wealth; his ownership of the grange in Shropshire--coincidentally, the ancestral home of Leonard Bast--is a property with no emotional attachment for him--it is just another diversion for him to spend his money on. Henry Wilcox may not be the most overt member of English society obsessed by matters of greed and money, but one suspects that age has tempered him somewhat on this front; would we have met him twenty years prior, he might have been easily mistaken for his son, Charles (James Wilby). The "values" which Henry--and thus Charles--purport about moral impeccability and dignity of course depend on acting in a fashion in keeping with this ideology of higher standards. So when members of this caste--like Henry and Charles--fail to live up to these expectations, they do not feel shame, because shame would be an admission of their shortcomings, putting them off of their lofty perch. Thus, Henry becomes a hypocrite, and Charles a bully and worse.
A lot could be said for Howards End; there is the gorgeous direction by James Ivory, the ensemble cast, the authentic production values. Interestingly, it is a story where virtually all of the primary initiators of change are women. Helen writes of her premature engagement first and actively advocates for Leonard Bast. Margaret befriends Mrs. Wilcox without any prior impetus, save to quell any sense of animosity, not to mention her persistence in trying to keep the peace between those she loves. Even Evie is the one who acts to destroy Ruth's will, when Henry cannot. And when men like Charles or Henry do take action, it is often done without much thought or regard for consequence, leading often to ruin. Henry Wilcox may come across as thoroughly old-fashioned, but after the revelation in secret with his immediate family about the will, Henry acts toward Margaret not merely out of affection, but perhaps out of guilt or obligation. His knowledge of this information changes his view of his immediate world...if only subconsciously. And when his past returns to haunt him at his daughter's wedding, it becomes clear that some values, when challenged, dramatically threatens his worldview and view of others whom he sees as "below him"--so much so that he retreats into his old-fashioned values in defense. His actions and prejudices ultimately prevent him from accepting the world as it is, rather than how he wishes it to be, and this is reflected in Charles, who is so determined to please/emulate his father, that his actions at the conclusion have horrific consequences. How Margaret and Henry struggle to connect with one another at fundamental levels--what compromises they make and what values they simply cannot relinquish makes for one the best forms of interplay between two fantastic characters by two fantastic actors in this complex and thought-provoking story about challenging social conventions.
Recommended for: Fans of literary adaptations, period pieces, but also for those who can appreciate a rich story crafted with complex characters, whose actions carry meaningful consequences in the story until the inevitable conclusion.
Ultimately, it is Mrs. Wilcox's last will and testament which becomes the great point of dissension for the surviving members of the Wilcox family, who all know--and do not genuinely doubt--the matriarch's intentions to leave Howards End (the story draws its title from the house of the same name) to Margaret, but allow their greed and snobbery to prevent them from executing it. And yet, I think that this plants the seed of obligation in Henry's mind, which in turn eventually leads him to his eventual romantic pursuit--in his stiff way--of Margaret. After Ruth passes on, the Schlegel's cross paths once again with Leonard Bast, which in turn leads to the young women sharing their concerns about how to help the poor clerk with a group of fellow women in their society. In a scene following this, Margaret and Helen are approached on the street by Henry Wilcox, and in the course of their discussion, Henry ends up offering unsound occupational advice, which is unfortunately passed on to Mr. Bast. I wonder if Henry offers up this advise out of spite, perhaps still struggling to emotionally deal with the conflict in his heart after having allowed his daughter, Evie (Jemma Redgrave) to burn his late wife's will and perhaps his own suspicions about what Margaret's intentions were in befriending Ruth Wilcox. Or, perhaps, it is nothing more than the carelessness that comes with trading business gossip, unconcerned with the consequence, because in his circle, such things do not concern his colleagues; they concern the poor, and Henry makes his indifference toward the poor apparent to Helen when she angrily confronts him about the results of his advice later. But then again, perhaps thee is also something a bit benignly indecent about the Schlegel's conversations with a group of relative strangers about "poor Mr. Bast's" situation at all.
In a way, there is more in common with Henry Wilcox and Helen Schlegel than the two would care to admit, leaving Margaret perpetually forced to walk the tightrope of arbitrating a tenuous peace between them. Helen is as driven to her obligation to aid Mr. Bast, but in a way, she is really fulfilling a need for herself. Her philanthropy is self-satisfying, since she feels an unfulfilled ennui in her life. She embellishes key points of her case for Leonard, and ignores information which does not neatly fit in with her cause. In this, she is like a radical activist--impassioned, but unwilling to acknowledge other sides to an argument. So then, is she not to some extent selfish in the sense that Henry is selfish? When Henry opens up to Margaret about his affair with Jacky (Nicola Duffett)--who is now "Mrs. Leonard Bast"--ten years prior, he emphasizes how horrible he is for his "fall from grace", frankly far more than one might expect even from old English values. I suspect this has a large amount to do with his associations between Margaret and his late wife, Ruth, and that subconsciously, he believes he is confessing his sins not to Margaret, but to Ruth. Margaret had been previously mistaken for the late Mrs. Wilcox by Miss Avery (Barbara Hicks), the housekeeper at Howards End, who observed that the two women walked in a similar way around the venerable homestead. Perhaps this similarity is, to an extent, a part of Henry's attraction to Margaret, in combination with his likely sense of obligation in the wake of his perjurious act to conceal Ruth's will and his inner cry for forgiveness. There is a kind of obscenity in Henry Wilcox's vast wealth; his ownership of the grange in Shropshire--coincidentally, the ancestral home of Leonard Bast--is a property with no emotional attachment for him--it is just another diversion for him to spend his money on. Henry Wilcox may not be the most overt member of English society obsessed by matters of greed and money, but one suspects that age has tempered him somewhat on this front; would we have met him twenty years prior, he might have been easily mistaken for his son, Charles (James Wilby). The "values" which Henry--and thus Charles--purport about moral impeccability and dignity of course depend on acting in a fashion in keeping with this ideology of higher standards. So when members of this caste--like Henry and Charles--fail to live up to these expectations, they do not feel shame, because shame would be an admission of their shortcomings, putting them off of their lofty perch. Thus, Henry becomes a hypocrite, and Charles a bully and worse.
A lot could be said for Howards End; there is the gorgeous direction by James Ivory, the ensemble cast, the authentic production values. Interestingly, it is a story where virtually all of the primary initiators of change are women. Helen writes of her premature engagement first and actively advocates for Leonard Bast. Margaret befriends Mrs. Wilcox without any prior impetus, save to quell any sense of animosity, not to mention her persistence in trying to keep the peace between those she loves. Even Evie is the one who acts to destroy Ruth's will, when Henry cannot. And when men like Charles or Henry do take action, it is often done without much thought or regard for consequence, leading often to ruin. Henry Wilcox may come across as thoroughly old-fashioned, but after the revelation in secret with his immediate family about the will, Henry acts toward Margaret not merely out of affection, but perhaps out of guilt or obligation. His knowledge of this information changes his view of his immediate world...if only subconsciously. And when his past returns to haunt him at his daughter's wedding, it becomes clear that some values, when challenged, dramatically threatens his worldview and view of others whom he sees as "below him"--so much so that he retreats into his old-fashioned values in defense. His actions and prejudices ultimately prevent him from accepting the world as it is, rather than how he wishes it to be, and this is reflected in Charles, who is so determined to please/emulate his father, that his actions at the conclusion have horrific consequences. How Margaret and Henry struggle to connect with one another at fundamental levels--what compromises they make and what values they simply cannot relinquish makes for one the best forms of interplay between two fantastic characters by two fantastic actors in this complex and thought-provoking story about challenging social conventions.
Recommended for: Fans of literary adaptations, period pieces, but also for those who can appreciate a rich story crafted with complex characters, whose actions carry meaningful consequences in the story until the inevitable conclusion.