One of the most adroitly insightful and bitingly witty writers of the 20^th century, Evelyn Waugh, hasn’t really been afforded the same sort of appreciation in the States as in his native England. He was something of a Tom Wolfe before Tom Wolfe could write. Waugh commented on every facet of British life that he came into contact with. Some of his work touches on colonialism and its inherent problems. Some writings dissect one’s education as it follows a dingy and entrenched model. But at the root of each one of his novels – or short stories for that matter – is the relationship between one’s innards, the outside world and if it’s all been worth it. Most frequently, these examinations occur in some jaunty and purposefully amusing prose – Brideshead Revisisted is an exception.

The novel isn’t void of humor, but it focuses more on the friendly relationship that two individuals strike up in school and how that translates to a familial setting. Of course a book is drastically removed from that of moving images on a screen. The way in which one takes in those images, the situation and mood that it’s all dispensed and a variety of other seemingly mundane details affect the way in which one perceives all of this. And I will say that Sebastian’s living situation – Brideshead – is vastly different on screen than in my mind. The opulence imagined by any one individual probably couldn’t match the estate chosen for the film’s depiction – the 2008 version at least.

During the early ‘80s, the first adaptation was rendered in England. And over six hundred and some minutes Jeremy Irons embodies the character of Ryder. Although Irons is going to be familiar to American audiences at this point, the 2008 version of the novel finds Matthew Goode in the role.

After reading the novel and being familiar with much of Waugh’s other work – coming to this piece towards the end of my exploration – I expect and perhaps insert some levity into writing that isn’t intended to function as such. And while watching this 2008 version of Brideshead it appears that the film makers and the director Julian Jarrold found none of this novel all too light. The images on screen are perpetually gloomy with much of the actor’s time being given over to dour stares as a camera slowly zooms in or out exploring some inner emotions.

Granted, losing a love to something intangible is more than troublesome, but along the way even the most playful moments from Waugh’s work have a stifled, British aire to it that doesn’t serve the book – which isn’t the point – or the viewer. After completing a viewing of this – and there will only be one – there can be very little sense of satisfaction. That feeling probably would only come from completing a film that’s two hours long.

The entire ordeal isn’t bad – but the tone that Jarrold decided to use saps much of the humanism from the story. I haven’t watched the Jeremy Irons version and probably won’t. But it more likely than not included at least one thing that this feature film didn’t.