'Emily of New Moon': An Old Promising Television Series Disrupts An Imaginative Romanticist Book Series

Twenty-one years ago, Emily of New Moon the television series debuted.

I came across the late 90's Emily of New Moon on a random Sunday morning and was quite surprised learning much later that this was an adaptation of noted author L. M. Montgomery. I have always appreciated Montgomery's well known Anne of Green Gables since discovering her around age sixteen (my mentor had gifted me a boxed set). This Emily character was brand new to me. And being a passionately enthralled writer in love with love and all its delicious facets, I have more in common with dreamy, starry-eyed orphan Emily than the cheerful, red-haired orphan Anne.

I recently completed reading the Emily of New Moon book trilogy (Emily of New Moon, Emily Climbs, and Emily's Quest) and binged the entire television series (over a single weekend no less). The television series strangely navigates away from the source material, seemingly dismissing Montgomery's beautiful, albeit magical prose around the end of season one.

Here are several reasons why the award-winning adaptation is severely flawed and has few saving graces:

Stern Aunt Elizabeth Murray (Susan Clark).

Number One: Aunt Elizabeth is killed off in the beginning of season two.

This glaring travesty partly happens due in part to portrayer Susan Clark leaving the role for personal reasons. A devout soul cannot help wishing that showrunner Marlene Matthews had simply recast the role. Aunt Elizabeth is the story's essential antagonist. From the beginning, Aunt Elizabeth opposes Emily's writing (and reading of novels). By the end, she eventually becomes a true champion, encouraging Emily to continue writing and read those whimsical stories to her. It is heartbreaking to not to get this incredible character journey depicted onscreen, to fully capture the moment Emily and Aunt Elizabeth no longer clash over Emily's undeniable destiny as a famous woman writer. In losing Aunt Elizabeth, the series lost an integral element that could not find itself in the absence of Montgomery's most crucial conflict.

Emily's love for Teddy blossoms wildly as her writing dreams soar in all three novels. Whereas in the show, Teddy (Shawn Roberts) professes his love to Emily (Martha Macissac) despite his mother being the catalyst wedging them apart. They have a long, endearing first kiss in the final season though in the books they do not.

Number Two: Teddy Kent is insipidly romantic to the point of sickening disbelievability.

While it is certainly true that in the book trilogy Teddy and Emily's love story trickles slower than molasses (endless simmering looks, terrible misunderstandings, and near marriages to others by both), the show itself turns Teddy into an incorrigible Romeo. He makes endless demands on Emily whilst also declaring his love so freely and concretely. The books paint their young yearning in clandestine tones, childhood friends growing older and closer, smoldering the reader with anticipation for their next meeting. Yet the show ostentatiously grabs hold, taking away what makes them so utterly profound and almost forbidden.

For example, Blair Water is under a severe quarantine. Teddy shows up out of nowhere to tell Emily that he loves her. Then he disappears in the fabric of this episode, seeming to be an apparition, an oddly placed piece that doesn't fit among the panic of sick and dying people. He would do this again in the finale-- come to Emily's sickbed, express his love, and not have another scene onscreen with her ever again.

Yet, however, despite all that push and pull, Teddy and Emily have the sweetest kisses here and there (not presented in the book): innocent cheek pecks from the season one, episode four's "The Disappointed House" (my personal favorite) to their first full blown kiss in season four, episode three's "Rites of Passage." Thus, their kisses do make up for the books' incredulous loss.


Number Three: Mr. Carpenter flees with a suddenly present wife. 

In the books, former alcoholic Mr. Carpenter is one of Emily's biggest, most devout champions. He staunchly encourages Emily to pursue her writing, giving her honest criticism every step of the way. Usually older male and young girl relationships are hard pills to swallow (especially Emily's disturbingly inappropriate relationship with Dean Priest). Mr. Carpenter stayed in his lane as a teacher, as prime motivator, and attentive reader. Although the television series touches on Emily's intimate relationship with her dearest champion, he is then written to be a fickle idiot, chasing after Emily's Scottish relative Cousin Isabel (see number four) and leaving Blair Water forever to repair a marriage. Not sure if the actor was unable to continue on in the role, but this again would have been another sign to recast.

Along with Aunt Elizabeth, Uncle Wallace (Jeremy Ackerman) also dies (he too is alive in the books). Aunt Ruth (Anna Cameron) and Aunt Laura (Sheila McCarthy) were at odds with Emily staying in Shrewsbury with Aunt Ruth.

Number Four: The addition of Ian Bowles,* his mother, Uncle Malcolm, and Cousin Isabel Murray were unnecessary.

Montgomery had already created many full fledged characters. There was no need for adding new ones-- ugh the whole Scottish Murray clan was so bad. Plus, the plot for others including Rhoda Stuart's family (awful characters and Rhoda herself should have been gone by mid-season two) to usurp New Moon inexcusably dragged on.

Another brutal plot was bringing in Robbie, a biracial boy Uncle Malcolm adopts. Robbie is ostracized and accidentally dies thanks to nasty Cousin Isabel. It was a terrible realization that most of these beloved characters (with the exception of Emily who does fetishize Robbie's skin color) showed their racism, their white privilege. This whole episode, an empty, half-hearted dialogue on race, was essentially forgotten like most of that intolerable third season. The writers did not have what it took to reach inside the jaw of this content and tug at the jugular.

In the future look for a piece on the horribly triggering Ian and his toxic abuse on poor, naïve Aunt Laura. This storyline made the series focus on adults than the teens (I believe that was the age target, quite unclear).

Number Five: Perry Miller not going to Shrewsbury High School and introducing disowned rich boy Jack as the replacement New Moon chore-boy were not wise decisions.

By season three's end, the show suggests that Perry will be attending high school with Teddy, Ilse, and Emily. They compete for the scholarship launched by the visiting queen (uninteresting plot choice too-- in Emily's Climb Aunt Ruth does let Emily stay with her for three years, Teddy receives an art scholarship, and Ilse's dad pays for her schooling). However, Perry bails at the start of the last season, joining the army instead (bad character development that feels cheap and inauthentic). In fact, this whole situation is maliciously savaged. Perry returns and like Rhoda Stuart has sex with a stranger. Both incidents desperately attempting to provide lessons in adolescence are insignificant and awkwardly out of place.

One highlight is creating a deep, meaningful bond between Emily (Martha Macissac) and Aunt Laura (Sheila McCarthy)-- hinted in the books, vividly realized in the television series. Aunt Laura is like an adult child slowly becoming free after laudanum addiction and an unhappy marriage (a blackmailed marriage at that)-- troubling sights for a show that doesn't seem to truly know its audience.

Number Six: The finale does not wrap up the show successfully. 

Basically Emily gives Teddy her first novel to read over. In the Emily's Quest, it is actually Dean who reads the novel and tells her that he doesn't like it (which was an ugly manipulative criticism seeing as it turned out Dean hated that writing seemed a stronger love than her feelings for him and Dean wouldn't compete with anyone or anything for Emily's devotion). Thus, in the episode, Teddy is brushing her off to the point of being ridiculously out of character. Then Emily falls down the steps— also taken from the final book— and is overwhelmed with flashbacks.

The final season, only seven episodes long, were all disjointed, rushed, and had a "red flag" feeling to the writers' stories. They didn't have the desire to retain Montgomery's magic and charming spirit. It reeks of how television series are not prepared for a sudden cancellation notice. Perhaps that is what transpired to a work that began with genuine intentions. Great details were left out in exchange for darker depressing content like Aunt Laura's miscarriage and Ian's suggested suicide.

I may have hated Emily of New Moon's television finale (most finales always fail to earn admiral respect), but credit must be given to what it is due. The best parts were Emily and Ilse's remarkably engaging friendship brought to rich, colorful life— all of its purity, sweetness, roughness, and humor delivered brilliantly by Martha Macissac's rebellious writer Emily and Jessica Pellerin's fiery, potty-mouthed Ilse. Emily is the narrator, she is constantly writing, constantly imagining utilizing her second sight gift— wonderful indeed. Christopher Deidrich's score enhances the clairvoyant mysteries and intrigues floating so vibrantly around Emily's small yet invigorating Prince Edward Island existence. Overall, the show felt womanistic. The women characters were more realized and centered, passionately declaring a valiant independent and daring outlook than most other shows would allow them to have. Women were writing and directing episodes as well— a solid kudos.

Also, whatever happened to Pandora, Emily's precious cat that she fought so hard to keep? She too disappeared in season two— the start of unhinged disasters.

Still, Marlene Matthews managed to obtain some heart and soul. We have to commend her for that.