I have not read the original book yet, but I love everything about this movie. The actors playing superbly their roles, the slow development of the story, the atmosphere of this old century London. Generally I am amazed every time I watch a British movie or a film for another chronological period, stories like Jane Eyre, Oliver Twist, Pride & Prejudice..This movie awakens in me a certain sensibility, reminds me of my childhood memories, as it is one of the first films I ever watched and later on I was spellbound with movies and cinema. I recommend you to watch it without hesitation, specially if you love this kind of movies.

The rave reviews of this version are due more to contemporary audience's total ignorance of Dickens' writing, comfortable familiarity with the actors playing the roles and limited attention span. I saw the 1974 version first, with utterly unfamiliar actors, and a 300 minute length, as opposed to 186 minutes. Massive amounts of plot were excised. The only actor whose performance was worthy of Dicken's intentions was Pauline Quirke as Pegotty. In the 1974 version, Martin Jarvis played Uriah Heep, an icon of unctuous, oily, perfidy and criminality, so much richer than the current one. And Mr. Micawber (I love Bob Hoskins, mind you) but the script gave much greater depth to his pecuniary failures in the 1974 version. And the actor chosen to play Copperfield - what were the producers thinking? Copperfield is an alter-ego of Dickens himself, not some wimpy pretty naive boy. An intellectual, a writer. Everything came out right at the end (as Dickens always arranged)but it was so neatly done and so unsatisfying. If you're a Dickens fan, I enourage you to watch the 1974 version.

A brilliant latter-day adaptation of Dickens' autobiographical masterpiece that scores rising triumphs on all fronts. As a Dickens fan, I have recently experienced some unpleasant revulsion at the latest Oliver Twist mutations both on film and on the once fine Masterpiece theater. In fact, I very nearly passed on this rendition of Copperfield due to an ever creeping jaded cynicism, not realizing that as recently as 1999, the world still spun on its axis and the preservation of art was still considered precious. Check this out, it is marvelously executed, well acted, and to those few who still care for such things, faithfully adapted!. My summary line comes as you will no doubt surmise from the cast which includes a very young Radcliffe, and not so young but terrific as always Maggie Smith, Zoe Wannamker etc. All sensational!

This BBC version of David Copperfield demonstrates rather well the differences between a novel and a film or TV production. On the face of it, there is nothing wrong with this - in fact as far as TV productions go, this is rather good. High - very high - production values, top-notch actors, good direction: it's all there. So why does it only get half marks. Well, that has to do with the difference between film and writing. We live in a visual age where visual impressions are everything. So for many years now Hollywood has been getting away with producing highly successful, high-grossing film which, at the end of the day, have very little going for them but loads of action. This is true of films ranging from vacuous nonsense such as Enemy Of The State, which is nothing but one long chase to family films such as the equally vacuous Home Alone. The secrecy is to make sure the viewer has no time to think. In fact, thought is a no-no (something which seems to be a feature of our age in the Western world anyway.) Fiction can be equally as exciting, but the writer has none of the resources of the film maker: no film score, no special effects, no computer animation, no soundtrack. Everything - and that does mean everything - has to be conveyed somehow by the written word. And everything takes place in the reader's imagination. And sparking that imagination is the art of the writer. Ironically, despite apparently far more limited resources, the writer is far freer. In a very curious sort of way he has no restrictions whatsoever. So what has this to do with the BBC production of David Copperfield? Well, it is this: through no fault of its own, the 'movie' version of David Copperfield simply isn't very good. Why? Because what can be established in the novel takes far longer to be established on film, or at least in a film using this conventional kind of production. Dickens, despite being restricted to merely a quill pen and a well of ink, could give his story far more depth than a TV production, which is not allowed to take too long doing anything for fear of losing the viewer's interest. Some examples of why this TV production simply leaves too much out in the cold to allow for an enjoyable, intelligent rounded experience: David's nasty stepfather: exactly why does he take a dislike to David and treat him so badly? David's relationship with Peggoty's family in Yarmouth: we are simply informed that he forges a close bond with them, but never shown why. Steerforth's relationship with his mother and his mother's companion: this is all very much drama lite. Steerforth's seduction of Emily: it all happens off-stage and really doesn't register. Betsy Trotwood: just why does she have such a down on boys? Who knows? The list could go on. Everything on screen is presented and intended simply to be accepted. No reasons or justifications are ever given. On the written page, on the other hand, and given the freedom of the writer to employ whatever means he or she wishes to tell his or her story, these things can be established. The writer can digress, explain, range over time and distance, do things which are often impossible for the filmmaker. It is an irony that the writer is far less constricted and restricted in what he might do than the filmmaker, despite all the technical whizzbangs and tricks whichthe the film director has to hand. I pointed out that this particular version of David Copperfield might have suffered from the very conventional television direction. The implication is that given another director, this might have been more convincing. Oh well. For those who like their Sunday afternoon Dickens, this is passable stuff. But in no way does it rise above being very ordinary.