The French Lieutenant's Woman is a sumptuous coffee table book of a movie, with Jeremy Irons and an astonishing Meryl Streep as clandestine lovers in parallel stories set in Victorian England and on a modern-day film shoot. Fallen somewhat out of favor since its acclaimed 1981 release, this meta-Romantic Drama has been given a thoughtful reappraisal on Criterion's Blu-ray edition.

When it comes down to it, The French Lieutenant's Woman seems like a strange choice for the auteur-driven Criterion. This multi-layered story was handled capably enough by Czech-born Karel Reisz, who came to prominence with the 1960 British New Wave drama Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. There's not too much distinctiveness to Reisz's approach, however. Playwright Harold Pinter had the bigger challenge of adapting his screenplay from John Fowles' labyrinthine, practically un-filmable 1969 novel.

With multiple endings and an intrusive narrator, Fowles' striking postmodern tone was bound to get watered-down for film. As it stands, the movie ends up being a pleasant, escapist period romance with a modern-day plot occasionally intruding/commenting on the main action.

Set in the picturesque seaside town of Lyme Regis, England, The French Lieutenant's Woman's 19th century story concerns Charles Henry Smithson (Irons), a solemn paleontologist who uses the area's bounty of fossils to further the work of his mentor, Charles Darwin. Charles is engaged to Ernestina (Lynsey Baxter), a young woman from a family above his social and economic station. In time, however, he becomes intrigued by an enigmatic figure seen walking alone in the forests outside the town. Charles eventually finds out that the reticent, flame-haired Sarah Woodruff (Streep) had a disgraceful liaison with a French military officer and is doing the only work she can obtain, caring for a bitter, sanctimonious old lady (Charlotte Mitchell). In the process of finding shelter for Sarah after she'd been exiled, Charles falls in love - embarking on an affair and a desperate search for the vanished woman that will destroy his marriage and career.

Of course, The French Lieutenant's Woman plays around with the costume drama genre. Modern-day scenes with Irons and Streep portraying a different couple get interspersed throughout the story of Charles and Sarah. In these segments, they're Mike and Anna: married (to other people) film actors who carry on an affair while working on a film production where they play the roles of Charles and Sarah. Since the filmmaking aspect wasn't originally in Fowles' book, this wrinkle adds a bit of meta-cleverness - are we watching scenes from Mike and Anna's film, or is the Charles and Sarah business a separate, parallel story? It's interesting to note that the relaxed moral code of Mike and Anna's time allowed for their affair to be more casually played out. They end up being more neurotic and uptight, however, when it comes to deciding whether to continue their affair once the production ends. It's pretty absorbing watching how Irons and Streep approach these characters (Anna is an American, for example), but the modern segments ultimately don't mesh well with the 19th century story. For one, they come along too infrequently in the movie's first half, and for another, Mike and Anna simply aren't as fascinating as Charles and Sarah.

If the shifting settings and overlapping narratives used in The French Lieutenant's Woman seem kind of quaint in 2015, the movie still remains worth checking out for Streep's tender, subtle performance as Sarah. Irons does a fine job as well (on both characters), but Streep goes one step further and truly makes this movie her own. Performing with an unaffected British accent, Streep gets the hesitancy in Sarah's introduction, as well as the steely inner strength of Sarah's own convictions - so it's no surprise that the character ultimately becomes who she imagined herself as all along.

The Blu-ray:

The Criterion Collection edition of The French Lieutenant's Woman comes in their customary clear plastic Blu-sized snap case. In lieu of a booklet, the single-disc package comes with a brochure-style insert which folds out into a nice, large portrait of Streep and Irons as Sarah and Charles, rendered in typewritten words.

Video

A gorgeous new transfer was used on this release, presented in 1.85:1 OAR, scanned from the original camera negative and digitally stabilized with minor instances of dust and age manually removed. Lensed by sometime director Freddie Francis, the photography uses light and color in a subtle, lifelike way, reflected in this solid, detailed transfer. The various shades of green in the forest sequences look especially ravishing. Another visually notable scene involves the shiny purple fabric of a dress worn by Charles' fiancee, Ernestina. The color pops on screen, looking amazingly vivid without appearing garish or out of place. There's a little bit of excess grain here and there, but the transfer results in rich dark levels and natural, appealing skin tones.

Audio

The film's original mono soundtrack has also been given a minor refurbishment. The uncompressed track is a pleasant, pristine mix which allows for equal prominence to dialogue, sound effects and musical scoring. Although not included as a choice on the main menu, the disc also provides English-language subtitles.

Extras

As usual with Criterion releases, this disc contains a good amount of vintage and newly-produced bonus material -

• Ian Christie Interview (20:19) - In this new piece, Christie makes a strong case for The French Lieutenant's Woman's place as a meta-cinema landmark, detailing the differences between Fowles' book and Pinter's adaptation and highlighting Reisz's role in smoothly bringing it to the big screen.
• The South Bank Show (51:32) - Originally airing in November 1981, this installment of the long-running British chat show offered a lot of insight into the film's production soon after it wrapped. Host Melvyn Bragg interviews Fowles in his home town of Lyme Regis, along with separate interviews with Reisz and Pinter.
• Emotional Uncertainties (30:52) - This new documentary has actors Jeremy Irons and Meryl Streep and editor John Bloom sharing their recollections on the film's production. This was a fascinating piece, revealing how often the actors had to go it alone due to Reisz's laid-back direction. There are also a few good anecdotes about specific scenes in the film.
• Carl Davis (21:13) - Another new piece, with composer Davis discussing the genesis and influences used in the film's score. Davis animatedly relates his feedback from the director, how he approached capturing the mood of certain scenes, and his bemused disappointment on the segments where classical compositions were used in place of original scoring.
• The disc also includes the film's Theatrical Trailer from 1981 (2:00), highlighting the romantic aspects of the 19th-century story.
• Finally, the fold-out insert includes an essay on the film by scholar Lucy Bolton.

Final Thoughts

Prior to the arrival of Criterion's edition of The French Lieutenant's Woman, it surprised me how much of this 1981 meta-costume romance I had forgotten about - entire, lengthy scenes - since seeing it last (only six years prior!). That doesn't bode too well for this movie's lasting impact, although it's not from a lack of trying on Criterion's part. Their Blu-ray is lovely, packed with informative supplements, allowing us to savor the meticulous work of Meryl Streep and Jeremy Irons once again. Recommended.

Matt Hinrichs is a designer, artist, film critic and jack-of-all-trades in Phoenix, Arizona. Since 2000, he has been blogging at Scrubbles.net. 4 Color Cowboy is his repository of Western-kitsch imagery, while other films he's experienced are logged at Letterboxd. He also welcomes friends on Twitter @4colorcowboy.