to be (or not to be) perceived

Persuasion and the Risky Business of Breaking the Fourth Wall

Netflix’s take on a Jane Austen classic has its heroine talk directly to the camera—but does that device actually speak to us anymore?
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Illustration by Quinton McMillan. Images from ABC/NetFlix/Amazon/Everett Collection

If you want to provoke Jane Austen purists and summon a heated Twitter debate, just have one of her heroines break the fourth wall. That was the fate that befell Netflix’s Persuasion, a semi-modern take on Austen’s last completed novel that has Dakota Johnson’s Anne Elliot staring down the barrel of a camera. She also calls sheet music from her former lover a “playlist,” Henry Golding’s character “a 10,” and herself “an empath”—creative choices that have inspired more agony than hope.

The fourth wall—and the temptation to puncture it—has existed since the beginning of storytelling. Often credited to philosopher Denis Diderot, the concept refers to the mythical partition between a fictional tale and the audience watching it unfold. Fourth walls have been shattered in everything from 17th-century soliloquies to notable 20th-century films like Annie Hall and Fight Club. They’ve also been broken in a whole bunch of unmemorable projects, proving why the rule existed in the first place. Fourth-wall-breaking is a little like the cilantro of storytelling devices—a tasty garnish for some, a soap-flavored nightmare for others. 

How to accomplish the former rather than the latter? It helps to establish the narrative purpose of breaking the fourth wall, early and definitively. When Ferris Bueller breaks the fourth wall, it feels conspiratorial; the audience wants to experience the freewheeling day off he’s concocting, reveling in being privy to his plan. In The Wolf of Wall Street, Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jordan Belfort is a showman practically foaming at the mouth to share his daily drug regimen. Viewers feel complicit, if not entertained, when they get to peek behind the curtain of a 1-percenter with zero remorse.

When the device is used correctly, an audience craves this connective tissue with a character. Fostering that kind of familiarity is what inspired Abbott Elementary creator Quinta Brunson to emulate the mockumentary style of workplace sitcoms like The Office and Parks and Recreation. “I really wanted audience members to feel like they were in the school instead of looking at the school from the outside in,” she told Harper’s Bazaar this winter. “I think you can get away with a lot more comedy that way, if you feel like you also teach at Abbott or go to Abbott.” Then again, Brunson maintained that “mockumentary actually doesn’t break the fourth wall, because it never has a wall. Our whole premise has no walls—the audience is always invited in.” 

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Persuasion director Carrie Cracknell has insisted that Anne’s direct-to-camera confessions are “a way for us to understand Anne’s interiority,” telling IndieWire, “So much of the book is about Anne observing her family and their bizarre behaviors and her frustration at that, and so to be able to just look at the audience and sort of connect over that frustration felt really compelling as a device.” But in the film, the device clashes with our understanding of who Anne is and how she interacts with her family. 

While snarky asides about relatives would jibe with some of Austen’s more feisty leading ladies, like Elizabeth Bennet or Emma Woodhouse, they feel stilted here. Anne is a character consumed with regret, and—in the novel—she has no place to store it but within. When she’s given a method for purging some of that heartbreak, as she is in the adaptation, it fundamentally changes how we experience her narrative. 

If there’s no compelling reason for breaking the fourth wall, the gimmick falls flat. Just ask Adam McKay, whose use of the device in The Big Short—in which famous faces like Anthony Bourdain and Margot Robbie cleverly condense complex financial topics for the audience—helped earn him an Oscar. But the same device rang hollow in McKay’s subsequent projects, including Vice and Don’t Look Up, largely because it didn’t feel integral to those movies. In the case of HBO’s Winning Time, direct address was the pesky parting gift executive producer McKay bestowed upon the show after directing its pilot episode. As pointed out by Gawker, four main characters break the fourth wall several times within the first 15 minutes of the pilot alone. 

The other golden rule of breaking the fourth wall? Either do it all the time or use it sparingly. 

Fleabag, based on Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s one-woman show, has its heroine look directly at the audience 232 times over the course of its two seasons. Her compulsion becomes so interwoven with the narrative that viewers can’t imagine the story told without it. The show even plays with this codependency in its second season, during which Fleabag admits to disassociating from her life through the audience. When a therapist asks her if she has someone to talk to, she gives us a knowing wink: “They’re always there.” Later in the season, when the priest whom Fleabag is problematically falling for notices that she’s talking to us, it feels as unnerving as any jump scare. By this point in the series, we are an extension of Fleabag, as disarmed by the priest’s keen perception as she is. 

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Conversely, subtle, brief acknowledgment of a camera has been used to comedic or haunting effect in episodes of Euphoria and WandaVision, at the end of Call Me by Your Name, and even in 2007’s Persuasion, starring Sally Hawkins. Saved for rare occasions, the device earns back some of its power. 

The new Persuasion, though, falls somewhere in the middle. Anne’s asides are narratively jarring, causing confusion about why she’s making them in the first place. This problem also plagued shows such as Showtime’s Super Pumped: The Battle for Uber, whose fourth wall break felt unnecessary by the time it arrived in the fifth episode, and Sex and the City, which rightfully dumped the idea (and those grating freeze-frames) in its second season. 

Even when executed well, the fourth wall break has shed much of its novelty. We live in an era where everyone is perceiving one another all of the time—on Instagram Lives, in viral TikToks, via YouTube storytimes. (Even the Kardashians have begun acknowledging the wall of production that surrounds them on their Hulu series.) The world of movies and TV now feels like one of the only places to seek refuge. But if films like Persuasion are insistent on knocking down that wall, it’s best to do so without risking structural damage.