We’ve spent this year — some might say our entire lives — diving deep into the world of Jane Austen. And as her 250th birthday approached, one fiercely debated question kept coming up: Who is the definitive Mr. Darcy?
Many actors have donned the master of Pemberley’s breeches in adaptations of “Pride and Prejudice” over the years, from a pompadoured Laurence Olivier (1940) to a fluffy-haired David Rintoul (1980) to the ever dapper canine Wishbone (1995) — and that’s without even mentioning the various zombie fighters, murder witnesses, media moguls and wearers of hideous reindeer sweaters that also bear his name. But when crowning the one true Fitzwilliam, it really comes down to two men: Colin Firth in the 1995 BBC mini-series, and Matthew Macfadyen in the 2005 film.
Before our year of Austen is out, this question must be answered. Welcome to our Regency Thunderdome, where the rules are simple: We will each make the case for our Darcy of choice — and then, it’s up to you. May the best man win.
The Case for Colin Firth
You want your Mr. Darcy to have a manly visage and a commanding presence. You want him to have a certain arrogance, although you know you can match him wit for wit. You want him to behave at all times with the dignity of a person who has a massive country estate and an income of 10,000 pounds a year. You want him to look great in a greatcoat.
And of course, should he find himself unexpectedly déshabillé after becoming hot and bothered and taking an impromptu swim in a pond, you want your Mr. Darcy to demonstrate that it is entirely possible to remain smoking hot while dressed in a slightly damp poet’s blouse.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Matthew Macfadyen. I loved him in “MI5”; I loved him in “Succession.” And I love watching a besotted young man in knee-high boots stride through the fog at daybreak to tell a woman that she has bewitched him body and soul, even if the thrill is to my mind slightly undercut by Matthew’s inexplicably unflattering mullet-ish hairstyle. Not to mention that Jane Austen did not write those lines.
Mr. Darcy should at no time evince any sulkiness, insecurity or emo-ness. He should not remind you even glancingly of the hero in a contemporary Emily Henry enemies-to-lovers novel. He should be from the early 19th century. He should be Colin Firth. — Sarah Lyall
The Case for Matthew Macfadyen
I have no beef with Mr. Firth. Nobody does pomposity as appealingly as he does, whichever Darcy — Fitzwilliam or Mark — he’s playing. But when it comes to icy hauteur, bristling passion and the ability to make the viewer swoon with a mere flex of the fingers, I am firmly a Macfadyen gal.
When he first appears — with his suffocatingly high collar, perpetually furrowed brow and, yes, that awkward haircut — it seems he would rather be anywhere than on your screen, amid the barely tolerable masses. Then, there it is: the spark in his gaze. “What do you recommend, to encourage affection?” he asks Elizabeth. I’d posit that he offers the best answer himself: paying attention.
Macfadyen can deliver a romantic line, in his velvety baritone, with panache. He wears a waistcoat like he was born to it. But it’s the way he looks at Lizzy that says the most. Where Firth’s gaze is cold, Macfadyen’s is pure fire, crackling with the same “beautiful expression” that, in Austen’s novel, draws Darcy to Elizabeth. The more he tries to suppress his feelings, the more he vibrates with them.
The firm hand helping Elizabeth into the carriage, the botched proposal in the pouring rain, that billowing stride through the dawn-lit fog, those torch-lit kisses — all would melt even the iciest of hearts. But it’s the little moments in between as you watch this buttoned-up man utterly unravel, abandoning his pride and cautiously opening his heart, that make him a perfect Mr. Darcy. You fall in love with him the same way he does with Lizzy: unwittingly but so inescapably that, by the time you realize it’s happening, you’re done for.
In each fluttering eyelash and tilt of the head, you can see Macfadyen’s Darcy recalibrating the way he moves through the world. To be willing to question your prejudices and reorient your universe around another’s happiness: What could be more romantic? — Jennifer Harlan
A Third Way, a.k.a. Franken-Darcy
What I am about to say may sound heretical, but here goes: I don’t think we’ve seen the perfect Darcy yet. Laurence Olivier looks the way I imagine Darcy to look. (Apparently Macfadyen and Firth have commiserated over the fact that neither considered himself “dishy enough” to play the famously handsome character — not an issue for Larry!) But the 1940 movie takes such Hollywood liberties with the text that his Darcy doesn’t really approach icon status.
Thanks to the breadth of the six-hour 1995 mini-series, Firth’s irritable and enigmatic Darcy is really allowed to shine in all his complexity and growth. (Hat tip to screenwriter extraordinaire Andrew Davies.)
As to the passionate Macfadyen: You simply can’t beat that syrupy baritone. He’s also both the right age and height.
The 1980 BBC mini-series is under-discussed, but it has its adherents. I find that David Rintoul’s coldness shades almost into psychopathy, though a top hat does sit very naturally on his head.
In sum, my perfect Franken-Darcy has Rintoul’s hat on Olivier’s head on Macfadyen’s body, with the latter’s voice and Firth’s personality. And, while we’re at it, Wishbone’s tail. — Sadie Stein
Now, It’s Your Turn
Having each made our case, we turn the question to you. Who is the ultimate Mr. Darcy? Cast your votes wisely (and if you want to stump for your favorite, come join us in the comments).
Jennifer Harlan is an editor at the New York Times Book Review.
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