I read my first Anne of Green Gables book in the 4th grade, at the age of 9, and then went on to devour the entire series in short order. When I saw the beautifully produced and wonderfully acted 1985 miniseries, I didn’t specifically swear I would never love again . . . I didn’t have to, because I just knew I wouldn’t, because nothing could ever top it.
So when I heard in 2017 that Canada’s CBC and Netflix were putting out a new version — Anne With an E — my first reaction was not excitement, but deep skepticism bordering on anger. How dare they come along and ruin one of my favorite things? For several weeks, I refused to tune in. Then I heard from a few friends I trust on the matter saying that they had been unsure of watching for the same reasons as me, but had decided to check it out just in case and, get this, it was actually good. Not just not bad. Good. Much to their surprise. So I decided to give it a go and see for myself. And boy, am I glad I did.
The new production kept a lot of the elements that made the first “Anne” great — the pitch-perfect acting performances, the gorgeous scenery, costumes, and decor, the calm but never slow pacing (perfect for savoring rather than speed-watching), the comedy that twinkles endearingly (without laughing or looking down its nose) at the characters’ quirks and foibles. But Moira Walley-Beckett really goes beyond what Kevin Sullivan did with his films and indeed beyond the scope of the original books themselves, giving us a splendid portrait not just of one amazing girl (which it does), but of an entire society - its people, place, and time.
First, the girl. Anne here is portrayed not just as eccentric, but much more specifically as a victim of trauma and its ongoing psychological aftereffects. Physical and emotional abuse, as well as peer-to-peer sexual harassment, are presented with frequency, detail, and intensity, and tied explicitly to certain of Anne’s behaviors. This view into the heart and mind of the main character is more raw and uncomfortable than any previous depiction, so that the viewer doesn’t just come to like and appreciate her personality, but to feel great sympathy for her having had to endure the brutal conditions that contributed so clearly to how that personality was formed in the first place. The following scene from episode 2 of season 3 is a good illustration. Anne is paying a visit to her old orphan asylum together with a close friend, Cole, in the hopes of finding out information about her birth parents. When the pair ascend to the attic, where Anne used to hide and write stories of Princess Cordelia as a means of mental respite from the difficulties of the orphanage, she suddenly comprehends, with tremendous anguish, that it wasn’t just a penchant for writing, it was escapism:
Anne: It’s so stupid! Can’t you see? I thought I was Princess Cordelia! I spent my life here in full lunatic imagination! And now, I don’t know what’s real. What else did I tell myself? What if my parents aren’t dead? What if they just dumped me here because they didn’t want me? . . . I can’t remember who told me they loved me. What if I made that up like everything else? I’m such a fool. It’s pathetic.
Cole: No. No, not pathetic. It saved you, that you used your imagination to escape this place. Your reality — it’s effervescent. Beautiful. It made you who you are. Able to see and dream what’s possible . . . not just what is. You’re amazing because of your experiences. It’s given you such empathy, and the widest mind of anyone I know. And selfishly, I’m thankful for it all. Because you were able to understand and accept me. That saved my life.
How can your heart not go out to a person after seeing their innermost fear and sadness laid bare like that?
All in all, we get to know Anne much more deeply and with more nuance than we have ever been able to before, and this closer look is accomplished with great delicacy, respect, and love.
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Next, society on Prince Edward Island at the end of 19th century. Whereas the original books and films depicted an all-white farming community and focused on mainly middle- and upper-class households with a few passing mentions of poorer families, Anne with an E shows a much broader society, a wider range of lives, and a wider range of prejudices.
To begin with, the farm hand Jerry, a young French boy who is mentioned by name in the original books and films but never truly formed part of those story, is presented much more fully now. We are confronted with the difficulties he faced personally (hunger, not being able to go to school because he had to work to supplement his family income, being frightened of sleeping alone, because he has always slept several to a bed at home), and more generally the prejudice both poor and French families were subjected to at the time.
Two characters, one new (Cole, a classmate of Anne’s) and one old (Diana Berry’s wealthy Aunt Josephine) are gay in this telling, and the new show takes care to portray both the very real difficulties they faced at the time for being so and the likewise very real spaces and moments of self-acceptance and acceptance by others.
A few brief but beautifully constructed scenes with the peddler who sells Anne a bottle of dye to turn her hair “a beautiful raven black” give us a glimpse of Jewish people seeking a safer life in Canada than in their native Germany — a rare moment in any Anne telling or retelling where the troubles of the wider world pop up in sleepy, isolated PEI.
The new teacher Ms. Stacey is also given a fuller presentation in the new series. She is shown not merely as a mentor to Anne and the other school children, but as a woman with her own personal and professional difficulties, many of these stemming from the fact that she is less traditionally feminized in her looks and behaviors than many in Avonlea are used to or comfortable with. When the town decides to vote on whether to fire Ms. Stacey, we are also treated to an entire episode in passionate defense of progressive education.
In the new show we discover an established enclave of black residents in a ghettoized area of Charlettetown called the Bog, and we see some of the good and the bad of daily life there for its residents, as well as the attitude of others towards them, ranging from true kindliness to outright hostility. Being refused service in shops and on trains, and even refused medical attention, are common affronts shown here in a Canada that had outlawed slavery both legally and in practice but too often continued to treat people of non-white races with contempt.
We also meet the Mi’Kmaq, a First Nations people who have lived on the Island long before the nation of Canada ever came into existence, and we witness the good and bad of their lives, as well, including a wrenching look at government- and church-run boarding schools that essentially served as forced reeducation centers (at best).
Animal rights, bullying, consent, and freedom of speech are just some of the many other topics dealt with in the new CBC/Netflix series.
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Anne is still undisputedly the main character of Anne with an E, of course — her name is in the title and everything. But Moira Walley-Beckett has not just given us a story about a girl. We do get to know this remarkable girl more fully than every before, just as she deserves. But we get to know and care about a whole host of other characters — and their struggles and triumphs — more deeply, as well. This allows our sympathies to extend to and take in not just one individual but the entire community. Just as the sympathies of a community ought to extend to all of its members, whether similar or dissimilar to the majority. And isn’t one of the best benefits of literature, film, and television its ability to grow our capacity for empathy for people both like and unlike us?
Love is not quantifiable, and therefore not finite. Anne can love others that come into her life — that will in no way diminish the special bond you have with her. I can tell you that with certainty.
— Ms Stacey in “A Hope of Meeting You in Another World,” season 3, episode 4.
Ms Stacey is right. And Anne is right when she says “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” This makes October the perfect time to watch this superb 3-season series for the first time if you haven’t already — or, if you have, to watch it again!