I've never really been a fan of the period rom-com, but hats off to Georgia Oakley and Diana Reid for loosening some of the corset strings and presenting us with an actually quite amiable adaptation of Jane Austen's story of love and loss amongst the English upper-middle classes. Daddy "Dashwood" has passed away leaving his extensive property portfolio to his son by his first marriage (Tom Brooke) and so his second family that includes his widow (Caitríona Balfe) and their four daughters are out on their ear. Luckily, a distant cousin hears of their predicament and offers to help, so next thing they are all living in a substantial farmhouse as guests of the effusive and voluptuous "Mrs. Jennings" (Fiona Shaw) and her affable son-in-law "Sir John" (Turlough Convery). Now established in their new home, the story shifts to focus on their complex love lives and that sees "Elinor" (Daisy Edgar-Jones) begin a most complicated waltz with the already affianced "Ferrars" (George MacKay); "Marianne" (Esmé Creed-Miles) begins two dances of her own with the charming but probably rakish "Willoughby" (Frank Dillane) and the reticent "Col. Brandon" (Herbert Nordrum) and then there's "Fanny" (Stacy Martin) and the curious young "Maggie" (Bodhi Rae Breathnach) whose objectivity on all the grown-up romantic shenanigans brings an additionally humorous perspective to matters as she completes this quintet of women treading on the eggshells of social restrictions, acceptibility and turbulent affaires des cœurs. There are a couple of notable dynamics to enjoy here with Creed-Miles and Edgar-Jones presenting the contrasting characterisations of the flighty and spontaneous with the more responsible and measured quite effectively throughout. Edgar-Jones and MacKay also work well, even though the latter gent appears a little too sparingly for me, and Messrs. Nordrum and the slightly underwhelming Dillane do just about enough to keep the elements of starch-laden mischief simmering along. Shaw is a scene stealer very much in the vein of Elizabeth Spriggs's slightly vulgar bonne vivante from 1995 and on the whole the ladies here carry the story powerfully and entertainingly with a minimum of sentiment and damsel-in-distressness. Less emphasis is made here on any social commentary about the obviously subordinated role of women in society at the time, but maybe that works better as a less-being-more message that is clear for us to appreciate without it dominating the proceedings. It's a sumptuous looking interpretation, but I also felt it a darker and more authentic take on life in an nation that even for the wealthy meant you were never far from mud, darkness, lies and deceit. This is a more relaxed and enjoyable version of this oft-told story, and I quite enjoyed it.