Two weekends ago, I trekked to my beloved AMC at Universal CityWalk to abuse my A-List status once again. This time, I had tickets to see the new “Sense and Sensibility” adaptation with my best friend, and as a huge Jane Austen enthusiast, I had high expectations: The movie would be competing with the pure gold that is the 1995 version written by Emma Thompson. 

But when we walked out of the theater, the two of us had one thing to say: “Meh.” 

For those unfamiliar, Austen’s “Sense and Sensibility” tells the story of two sisters, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood, who have both recently lost their father and family home. The sisters proceed to have the worst day of their lives by Regency Era standards, as one bad thing spirals into another. 

While continuing to experience financial hardships, the sisters have tumultuous love lives. Elinor and Edward Ferrars pine for each other, but cannot act on it, as he has been secretly engaged for years. Marianne falls in love with the charming but untrustworthy John Willoughby, despite the older, devoted Colonel Brandon quietly pursuing her. 

It’s not a new story, and there have been countless television, play and movie adaptations since. Nevertheless, the 1995 version is simply a classic because you truly cannot get better than the stacked cast of Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, Hugh Grant and Alan Rickman all in one movie. Watching the movie is like my personal British Thanksgiving feast — aka I devour it. 

At its core, “Sense and Sensibility” and the Dashwood sisters emphasize the importance of both emotional restraint and honesty: Elinor is sensible with her practicality, but her reservations cause heartbreak; impulsive Marianne, whose whirlwind romance with Willoughby ends poorly, by comparison, must learn that love requires some level-headedness. 

However, this new edition decided that loud equals romantic for both sisters. The movie’s take on the Dashwood sisters’ story was so incredibly melodramatic that it bordered on Brontë Gothic. 

The movie seems to believe that Elinor’s (Daisy Edgar-Jones) reservations stem from never being allowed to be loud, rather than understanding that being loud is simply not who she is. Similarly, they seem to be under the impression that Marianne’s (Esmé Creed-Miles) idealistic romanticism translates to outrageous rebellion, which takes the form of her inability to have her hair brushed for a single scene.    

The already boisterous Marianne is made even more dramatic than she already is, cringingly screaming “Willoughby” in the rain and constantly yelling at her sister. Composed-to-a-fault Elinor also suddenly has the guts to angrily shout at Willoughby when he drunkenly arrives at their home. But all of this noise occupies any space in the film that could be used for unspoken moments of passion that might not have to be verbally spelled out.  

In a previous installment of “Love, Actually,” I discussed how the latest season of “Bridgerton” illustrated the benefit of physical restraint on screen, compared to the 2026 “Wuthering Heights,” which was an overindulgent mess. Emotional restraint should be treated similarly: If the characters are too busy speaking — or rather, shouting — their every thought when they get the slightest urge to do so, what is left to be wanted?    

In the 1995 version, when Elinor (Thompson) finds out that Edward (Grant) is not married after all, she bursts into tears. The scene is pivotal, not only because it shows how tormented Elinor had been, but also because it’s her finally letting herself be vulnerable and emotional — something she had refused herself to do for too long. 

Perhaps writer Diana Reid and director Georgia Oakley wanted to make the sisters more relatable to modern audiences, but loud doesn’t mean right. There is still beauty in romantic subtlety and emotional restraint that we probably take for granted. And as someone whose friends regularly dub her as the loudest, most opinionated person alive, even I can see the value in silence and emotional reservation.   

So, although you as a viewer may want an angry confession of love in the rain, remember that there can still be tenderness and passion in the quieter moments.  

Sophia Kang is a junior writing about love in media in her column, “Love, Actually.” She is also an Arts and Entertainment editor at the Daily Trojan.