Emma. (2020)

Emma. (2020) is the rare period romance that feels both exquisitely mannered and mischievously alive, like Jane Austen served on fine china with a sly modern sparkle. Autumn de Wilde turns Highbury into a candy-colored dollhouse of impeccable costumes and painterly compositions, while Anya Taylor-Joy makes Emma’s confidence, charm, and blind spots so vivid you can’t look away—even when she’s being wonderfully wrong. The comedy lands with a crisp bite, the flirtations simmer with real heat, and beneath the prettiness there’s a satisfying emotional intelligence about learning to see other people clearly. If you want your romance more swoony than satirical, it may feel a touch arch, but if you enjoy wit, style, and a heroine who earns her growth, this one is a delight.

Emma. (2020) is clearly trying to be a crisp, candy-colored Jane Austen comedy of manners, leaning hard into visual flair, sharp costumes, and social awkwardness played for laughs. When it works, Anya Taylor-Joy gives Emma a pricky charm and the film’s staging is genuinely delightful to look at, like a period dollhouse with teeth. But if you’re coming for emotional sweep or clean storytelling, be warned: the pacing can feel rushed, the relationships don’t always get the connective tissue they need, and the wit sometimes sits on the surface instead of landing with real nuance. If you love stylish, slightly arch Austen adaptations you’ll have a good time; if you need depth, warmth, and a more coherent dramatic build, this may leave you admiring the décor more than the romance.