Interwoven with Becky’s rise is the story of her best friend, Amelia Sedley (Romola Garai). Unlike the calculating Becky, Amelia is sweet, passive, and blindly devoted to the arrogant George Osborne. The film contrasts Becky’s active, ruthless pursuit of status with Amelia’s passive suffering, asking the audience: who is the true survivor?

Fresh off the success of Legally Blonde , Witherspoon brought star power and an iron will to the role. While her English accent was praised, some critics felt she was too inherently likeable to capture Becky’s underlying cruelty.

Witherspoon, fresh off the massive success of Legally Blonde , brings an inherent plucky, American charm to the role. Instead of a ruthless opportunist, Nair’s Becky is reframed as a modern feminist proto-heroine. She is a woman born into poverty who simply refuses to accept the dismal fate society has assigned her. Her manipulations are cast not as inherent malice, but as necessary survival tactics in a hypocritical world dominated by wealthy, mediocre men. While this change made Becky more palatable to a mainstream Hollywood audience, it drew criticism from literary purists who felt the adaptation robbed the story of its dark, satirical bite. The Mira Nair Touch: A Vibrant, Multicultural Regency

Becky’s first public triumph came at the theatre, where she met Lord Steyne. He was all velvet and danger, a nobleman whose interest could open any door. Lord Steyne listened to Becky with a conspirator’s delight. He rewarded cleverness with favors and indifference with coldness; he enjoyed watching her weave ambition into charm. With him, Becky learned the rules of aristocratic life—the jokes that land, the insults that cut too deep to reply to. For all his attentions, he remained a patron with an appetite for entertainment.

So grab your champagne, your silk gown, and your best scheming face. Step right up. The is still open for business, and the rides are thrilling.

Meanwhile, Amelia’s life darkened. The war took George, then the debtors took Amelia’s family home. Becky watched Amelia’s misfortune with a complicated tenderness—guilt interlaced with the pragmatism that had always kept her afloat. When Amelia came to London, shabby and outraged by grief, Becky offered what help she could: an invitation, shelter, a shoulder. That affinity was one of Becky’s few real affections, though she never let it compromise her strategies.

At the heart of the film is , the orphaned daughter of a painter and a singer, who is determined to climb the social ladder at any cost. While the original novel often portrays Becky as a cynical and manipulative anti-heroine, Nair’s film softens her edges, presenting her as a resilient "mountaineer" battling a rigid patriarchal system.

Opposite her, James Purefoy delivers a career-best turn as the rakish Captain Rawdon Crawley. Unlike the foppish interpretations of the past, Purefoy’s Rawdon is a brute with a broken heart. His slow realization that Becky values a diamond necklace over their son is devastating. The supporting cast reads like a masterclass: Gabriel Byrne as the haunted Marquess of Steyne, Bob Hoskins as the vulgar but lovable Pitt Crawley, and a young Jonathan Rhys Meyers as the doomed George Osborne.

Garai provides the perfect foil to Witherspoon, capturing the sweet, fragile, and occasionally frustrating nature of Amelia.

Critical reception was decidedly mixed. On Rotten Tomatoes, the film holds a divided rating. Critics who enjoyed the film praised Nair's bold direction and the visual opulence. Conversely, detractors felt the film was overlong—running at 141 minutes—and argued that by making Becky Sharp too sympathetic, the narrative lost the cynical, tragic-comic irony that made Thackeray's novel a masterpiece. Legacy: A Revisionist Period Piece Ahead of Its Time

This choice provided a fresh context for modern audiences: the wealth Becky chases isn't just "old money"; it is the spoils of empire, adding a layer of political commentary to Becky’s social climbing.

The 2004 film, unfortunately, pulls its punch. In an effort to make Becky more sympathetic for a modern audience (and perhaps to keep Reese Witherspoon’s likability intact), Nair and screenwriters Matthew Faulk and Mark Skeet soften the ending. The devastating scene where Rawdon discovers Becky’s secret is there, but the final act sends Becky off on a note of hopeful, entrepreneurial reinvention—she’s seen in a Bombay market, ready to start a new life as a performer. It’s a beautiful, optimistic image, but it is the opposite of Thackeray’s nihilistic conclusion. For many, this change robs the story of its entire moral point.

How this film compares to the adaptation. Share public link

When you think of William Makepeace Thackeray’s classic 1848 novel Vanity Fair: A Novel Without a Hero , the adjectives that usually come to mind are satirical, cynical, and sprawling . It’s a book that gleefully punctures the balloons of 19th-century British high society, leaving no character—especially its famously ambitious anti-heroine, Becky Sharp—morally unscathed.

Vanity Fair -2004 Film- Exclusive -

Interwoven with Becky’s rise is the story of her best friend, Amelia Sedley (Romola Garai). Unlike the calculating Becky, Amelia is sweet, passive, and blindly devoted to the arrogant George Osborne. The film contrasts Becky’s active, ruthless pursuit of status with Amelia’s passive suffering, asking the audience: who is the true survivor?

Fresh off the success of Legally Blonde , Witherspoon brought star power and an iron will to the role. While her English accent was praised, some critics felt she was too inherently likeable to capture Becky’s underlying cruelty.

Witherspoon, fresh off the massive success of Legally Blonde , brings an inherent plucky, American charm to the role. Instead of a ruthless opportunist, Nair’s Becky is reframed as a modern feminist proto-heroine. She is a woman born into poverty who simply refuses to accept the dismal fate society has assigned her. Her manipulations are cast not as inherent malice, but as necessary survival tactics in a hypocritical world dominated by wealthy, mediocre men. While this change made Becky more palatable to a mainstream Hollywood audience, it drew criticism from literary purists who felt the adaptation robbed the story of its dark, satirical bite. The Mira Nair Touch: A Vibrant, Multicultural Regency

Becky’s first public triumph came at the theatre, where she met Lord Steyne. He was all velvet and danger, a nobleman whose interest could open any door. Lord Steyne listened to Becky with a conspirator’s delight. He rewarded cleverness with favors and indifference with coldness; he enjoyed watching her weave ambition into charm. With him, Becky learned the rules of aristocratic life—the jokes that land, the insults that cut too deep to reply to. For all his attentions, he remained a patron with an appetite for entertainment. vanity fair -2004 film-

So grab your champagne, your silk gown, and your best scheming face. Step right up. The is still open for business, and the rides are thrilling.

Meanwhile, Amelia’s life darkened. The war took George, then the debtors took Amelia’s family home. Becky watched Amelia’s misfortune with a complicated tenderness—guilt interlaced with the pragmatism that had always kept her afloat. When Amelia came to London, shabby and outraged by grief, Becky offered what help she could: an invitation, shelter, a shoulder. That affinity was one of Becky’s few real affections, though she never let it compromise her strategies.

At the heart of the film is , the orphaned daughter of a painter and a singer, who is determined to climb the social ladder at any cost. While the original novel often portrays Becky as a cynical and manipulative anti-heroine, Nair’s film softens her edges, presenting her as a resilient "mountaineer" battling a rigid patriarchal system. Interwoven with Becky’s rise is the story of

Opposite her, James Purefoy delivers a career-best turn as the rakish Captain Rawdon Crawley. Unlike the foppish interpretations of the past, Purefoy’s Rawdon is a brute with a broken heart. His slow realization that Becky values a diamond necklace over their son is devastating. The supporting cast reads like a masterclass: Gabriel Byrne as the haunted Marquess of Steyne, Bob Hoskins as the vulgar but lovable Pitt Crawley, and a young Jonathan Rhys Meyers as the doomed George Osborne.

Garai provides the perfect foil to Witherspoon, capturing the sweet, fragile, and occasionally frustrating nature of Amelia.

Critical reception was decidedly mixed. On Rotten Tomatoes, the film holds a divided rating. Critics who enjoyed the film praised Nair's bold direction and the visual opulence. Conversely, detractors felt the film was overlong—running at 141 minutes—and argued that by making Becky Sharp too sympathetic, the narrative lost the cynical, tragic-comic irony that made Thackeray's novel a masterpiece. Legacy: A Revisionist Period Piece Ahead of Its Time Fresh off the success of Legally Blonde ,

This choice provided a fresh context for modern audiences: the wealth Becky chases isn't just "old money"; it is the spoils of empire, adding a layer of political commentary to Becky’s social climbing.

The 2004 film, unfortunately, pulls its punch. In an effort to make Becky more sympathetic for a modern audience (and perhaps to keep Reese Witherspoon’s likability intact), Nair and screenwriters Matthew Faulk and Mark Skeet soften the ending. The devastating scene where Rawdon discovers Becky’s secret is there, but the final act sends Becky off on a note of hopeful, entrepreneurial reinvention—she’s seen in a Bombay market, ready to start a new life as a performer. It’s a beautiful, optimistic image, but it is the opposite of Thackeray’s nihilistic conclusion. For many, this change robs the story of its entire moral point.

How this film compares to the adaptation. Share public link

When you think of William Makepeace Thackeray’s classic 1848 novel Vanity Fair: A Novel Without a Hero , the adjectives that usually come to mind are satirical, cynical, and sprawling . It’s a book that gleefully punctures the balloons of 19th-century British high society, leaving no character—especially its famously ambitious anti-heroine, Becky Sharp—morally unscathed.

Please accept cookies to continue.

This content is blocked due to your cookie preferences for this site. By clicking here, you accept YouTube's Terms of Service and Privacy Policy. Workday will save your choice in a session cookie.