IN my late teens I tried to comprehend Gustave Flaubert’s novel of a woman laid low by marital disappointment. Flaubert died before receiving royalties from the 37 movies it has generated.

Sophie Barthes adapted the screenplay, produced and directed version 37. Her delivery of a languid tale about a silly bourgeois woman unable to cope with life’s realities works well enough, but the plot, as for me it did all those years ago, failed to encourage any real enthusiasm. A cautionary tale that in its original era might have warned young wives about running up big bills, Flaubert himself described it as “about nothing, a book dependent on nothing external, which would be held together by the external strength of its style”.

Mia Wasikowska portrays Emma, who believes that life owes her a living, who sees no reason to lift her game. Driving her dull country medico husband to the brink of penury, she follows up with adulteries offering little erotic fulfilment. Rhys Ifans does a fine job as the merchant who exploits her frustration in a life that fails to deliver her expectations of society’s rewards. Paul Giamatti gives good sly and untrustworthy as Dr Bovary’s friend.

In May, we saw a modernisation of Flaubert’s novel in which Gemma Arterton played the heroine. If you saw that, by all means see this true-to-period version and decide which version is the more effective. Comparison of the two heroines is an interesting exercise.

At Palace Electric, Dendy and Capitol 6