If you grew up in the late nineties, you probably remember the green. Everything was green. The walls, the dresses, the lighting—it was like Alfonso Cuarón discovered a single crayon and decided to build an entire world out of it.
Honestly, it worked.
When we talk about Great Expectations, most people think of Charles Dickens and dusty Victorian London. But for a certain generation, the definitive version is the one where Ethan Hawke plays a mopey artist named Finn Bell who is hopelessly obsessed with a woman who essentially treats him like a hobby.
It’s been over 25 years since it hit theaters. Critics at the time weren't exactly kind. They called it style over substance. They said it was "Great Expectations" for people who hadn't read the book. And maybe they were right. But looking back at it now, in 2026, the film feels like a fever dream of Gen X aesthetic that somehow captured the ache of unrequited love better than any "faithful" adaptation ever could.
The Problem with Being "Finn"
Ethan Hawke was at the peak of his "soulful slacker" era when he took this role. Fresh off Before Sunrise, he had this specific brand of vulnerability that felt real.
In this version, Pip becomes Finn. He isn't a blacksmith’s apprentice; he’s a kid from a Gulf Coast fishing village who draws on the floor with charcoal. Hawke plays Finn with a constant sort of half-smile, half-grimace. You can tell he knows he’s being played, but he’s so far gone for Estella (Gwyneth Paltrow) that he doesn't care.
It’s a weird performance. Sometimes he’s a bit too cocky. Other times he looks like he's about to burst into tears. Hawke himself has been vocal about his mixed feelings on the project. He’s called it a "lousy experience" in the past, mostly because he felt the script wasn't quite there.
But that’s the thing. The movie doesn't really need a script. It’s a sensory experience.
Why the Modernization Actually Worked
Moving Dickens to 1990s Florida and New York was a big swing.
- The Setting: Sarasota, Florida, serves as the backdrop for the early years. The crumbling "Paradiso Perduto" mansion is way more haunting than some old London house.
- The Benefactor: Robert De Niro shows up as the escaped convict, Lustig. He’s terrifying but strangely fatherly.
- The Art: All those sketches and paintings Finn does? They were actually created by Francesco Clemente. They have this raw, distorted energy that perfectly mirrors Finn’s obsession.
Basically, Cuarón decided that class struggle—the core of Dickens' novel—wasn't as interesting as the feeling of being "undone" by someone. He traded social commentary for silk and sweat.
The "Green" of it All
Let's talk about the visual language. Alfonso Cuarón and his legendary cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (the guy who eventually won three Oscars in a row) had a rule: every scene had to have green.
Why?
Maybe it represents envy. Maybe it's the color of money and the "expectations" Finn is chasing. Or maybe it just looked cool. Whatever the reason, it creates this lush, underwater feeling. When you see Gwyneth Paltrow in that sheer Donna Karan outfit, it’s not just a fashion choice. It’s a vibe.
The movie arrived in January 1998. That was a bad time to be a romantic drama. Why? One word: Titanic.
Hawke later noted that nobody cared about any other movie for about nine months because James Cameron’s boat was sinking on every screen in the world. Great Expectations got lost in the wake. It made about $55 million—not a disaster, but not a hit either.
That Soundtrack (The Ultimate Time Capsule)
If you haven't listened to the Great Expectations soundtrack lately, you're missing out. It’s arguably better than the movie.
You’ve got Chris Cornell singing "Sunshower." You’ve got "Life in Mono" by Mono, which practically defined the trip-hop sound of the era. There’s Tori Amos, Pulp, and Duncan Sheik. It sounds like a rainy afternoon in a coffee shop in 1997.
It’s the kind of music that makes you feel nostalgic for a heartbreak you never even had.
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Does it hold up?
Sorta.
If you’re looking for a deep dive into the industrial revolution and the British class system, watch the 1946 David Lean version. Seriously. But if you want to watch two beautiful people look at each other through rain-slicked windows while the best music of the decade plays, this is your movie.
How to Revisit the Film Today
If you're planning a rewatch or seeing it for the first time, don't treat it like a "classic." Treat it like a long-form music video.
- Watch the visuals first. Pay attention to how Lubezki moves the camera. It’s effortless.
- Focus on the supporting cast. Anne Bancroft as Ms. Dinsmoor (the Miss Havisham stand-in) is absolutely unhinged in the best way. She’s drinking martinis and dancing to Bésame Mucho in a decaying mansion. It’s iconic.
- Check out the art. Look up Francesco Clemente’s work after you watch. It adds a whole other layer to Finn’s "talent."
The film is currently available on most streaming platforms (usually through Starz or for rent on Amazon/Apple). It’s the perfect movie for a Friday night when you’re feeling a little dramatic.
Keep an eye on the background details. Almost every single extra in the New York scenes is wearing at least one item of green clothing. It’s a level of commitment to an aesthetic that we just don't see much anymore in mid-budget studio films.
Next time you're scrolling through 90s nostalgia, give this one another shot. It’s flawed, sure. It’s a bit pretentious. But it has a soul. And in a world of CGI blockbusters, a movie that relies on paint, rain, and a green dress feels pretty refreshing.
Actionable Insight: For a deeper experience, listen to the official soundtrack before watching the film. It sets the emotional tone that Cuarón was aiming for, making the "style over substance" criticisms feel less relevant as you sink into the atmosphere.