Vanity Fair

William Makepeace Thackeray's (what a great name) novel is the kind of story that Jane Austen would have written if she had made her heroines a little more ruthless, telling the story of the lowly Becky Sharpe's attempts to social climb in early 19th century England. The film seems to have been more popular Stateside than here in the UK, although that's possibly a side effect of being exposed to so many excellent period dramas on the small and big screens that anything less than stunning is rather dismissed. Still, it's one of those productions featuring every British actor (apart from Judi Dench) although, perhaps a little gallingly, features the very American Reese Witherspoon in the lead. If Witherspoon weren't such a consistently fine performer, it would be reason to grumble, but she pulls it off, decent accent and all.
Both of the brothers Danna have been producing varied and fine work and this continues here with Mychael's score. As I've noted elsewhere, some types of film ensure a certain style of product when it comes to their music and while some may groan at yet another classically infected period score, the results are, typically for the genre, most engaging. She Walks in Beauty introduces the main theme in song form, vocals by Enya-a-like Sissel, whose ethereal voice is most engaging, as is the theme itself, even if it does vaguely bring to mind one of the key melodies in Shrek. Exchange pushes forward the score proper and Danna sets out his cards with a Patrick Doyle style outburst of sprightly strings and nicely reserved brass flourishes. A second, descending motif, is introduced in Becky arrives at Queen's Crawley, a charming counterpoint to the She Walks in Beauty melody. It is pleasing to note that neither theme is overworked and there are plentiful variants and secondary ideas throughout to prevent melody fatigue.

The initially cheerful opening tracks give way to a darker hue, but Danna veils almost everything in elegant classicism and a lightness of orchestration. Occasionally he allows the orchestra to swell dramatically, notably in No Lights After Eleven, but these moments always feel earned and, although broader scope than the majority, aren't overwhelming or horribly out of place. As if to accentuate the chamber sized approach, a couple of classically inclined piano solos make for brief moments of more intimate reflection. The final few tracks awkwardly mix in some Bollywood accents, which are reasonable given that the film does move to India, but with little build up, the change in style is a little stark. However, not enough to spoil a fine score that anyone who enjoyed Carl Davis' Pride and Prejudice or Doyle's Sense and Sensibility will find of instant appeal.