Thoughts on the new BBC Jane Eyre
Let me preface by saying that Jane Eyre is one of my favourite novels and has been since I was a little girl. I first read it when I was ten or eleven and loved it then, but it was only when I reread it during my first year of undergrad that the entirety of the book truly hit home for me. I'm still rather proud of my 'Defence of One Edward Fairfax Rochester' written for that class in response to a torrent of raging feminism (there were more than twenty girls and five guys at most, and I thought poor Rochester deserved a bit of sympathy).
I haven't reread the book recently; my copy is somewhere in the ether between Pennsylvania and Oxford at the moment, and therefore temporarily unreachable. I do plan to reread after watching tonight's episode (the last one, alas!).
First of all, I loved the atmosphere of this production. One thing they did that I don't recall other productions having done is put an emphasis on Jane's imagination. Because she most certainly has one, and a vivid one at that. The initial scenes -- however truncated -- really had fun with that, I thought. First, her fantasy from the book she was caught reading, and of course the Red Room scene, which I thought was particularly well done.
The Lowood sequence was a bit shorter than it needed to be, I thought, but that didn't bother me too much. I loved the incredible sense of *damp* that they brought out; the constant dripping water, the sniffling girls...and I liked that Brocklehurst was fat. Very deftly done, that. I do wish we'd seen Miss Temple, since she's the main reason Jane survived the school in the first place, and there really was very little explanation for Jane's transformation following Helen's death to her appointment there as a teacher.
But enough of that. Onward to Thornfield.
Did I think the location they chose for Thornfield was perhaps a bit larger and grander than necessary? A little, maybe. Though it really did become a character in and of itself as the episodes progressed, so I really can't argue with the choice now. Those long corridors that seemed to stretch forever into the unknown; the oh-so-Gothic North Tower and the single flash of red scarf on the grey horizon? (Loved the red accents, by the way. Absolutely utterly loved them. Symbol of Jane's unconscious, much?)
The more I think on it, the more it seems to me that the producers were trying to show Jane's perspective of everything. Maybe that is why Thornfield is so grand and the fog is so romantically thick. Maybe that is why we have the emphasis on madness lurking just around the corner -- because Jane's imagination *is* so vivid and it allows an escape from the prim governess she tries so hard to be.
I now need to rewatch to see if that *is* what seems to happen.
Now, Rochester. Personally, I love Toby Stephens' interpretation. The Rochester from the novel is as changeable as the moors themselves, constantly flickering back and forth between gloomy melancholy and almost cruel playfulness. And boy does he play with Jane! The three or so adaptations I'd seen before focused far more on Rochester's melancholy side -- understandably since that is probably the thing most readers remember about him; he is Byronic, after all -- but Stephens' treatment of Jane, hovering just on the brink of flirtation, seems to me to be truer to the character. I wouldn't have thought of it before; it didn't even occur to me until I was watching that it made so much sense.
As for Ruth Wilson's Jane, I think she's wonderful. Especially good at giving the impression of so much beneath the quiet surface, just on the brink of breaking loose. Episode Three in particular is absolutely heartwrenching. Jane, being the narrator, is often overlooked in favour of Rochester, mainly because it is through her eyes that we witness the story. She is acted upon rather than acting. Wilson gives the impression of being the eye of the storm, which is precisely what Jane should be.
People have complained about the lushness of Rochester's flashbacks, but again, I want to go back to the point of Jane's imagination. He is *telling* the story but it is *Jane's* vision we are seeing. I know this fits for the Céline narrative, though I'll need to rewatch the segment where Rochester talks about the Caribbean to see if I still think it works.
Another complaint has been the excision of the gypsy woman and the game of charades. If we want to view Rochester as cruelly manipulative -- which I think we should at that point -- the former makes more sense. I think the way Stephens plays him, he would rather be hiding in the background and witnessing the interaction than be in the thick of it. A corollary point is the interesting focus on Rochester's intellect, something often left out of previous adaptations. This is Rochester as scientist and naturalist, fascinated by everything -- including Jane, who he, above all other things, wants to understand. I'm less sure about the excision of charades, simply because it *is* so cruel to Jane to see him miming marriage to Blanche, but I suppose that was as much due to time constraints as anything else.
Slight detour: I have often wondered why every production has insisted upon making Blanche a blonde. If my recollection of the book is correct, I could have sworn she was dark-haired. Maybe to show her as a visual contrast to Jane?
At any rate, I loved the contrast here. Blanche, with her golden ringlets and frothy gowns made Jane look all the more severe and stiff. And I almost felt a bit of sympathy for the much-maligned Miss Ingram, since it actually seemed to me that she might have just the smallest grain of fascination, if not actual infatuation, with Mr Rochester. It was just one scene, at the beginning of Episode Three, where Blanche finds Rochester by the hearth and he asks her what she really wants, and she cannot answer. I will never like Blanche -- I have always sympathised far too much with Jane for that -- but I can at least have some feeling for her as another pawn in Rochester's complicated game.
Alright, now I'm going to hopelessly mire myself in my ever-present fangirling of the Jane-Rochester love story. It's messed up, it's inexplicable, and it's absolutely fascinating.
This production really heightened the tension between the two. In spite of the fact that I'd have hated on principle any production that did this, my inner fangirl was screaming 'Kiss her, kiss her!' during the segment just after Rochester's bed was set on fire. That is, in my mind, the hallmark of good sexual/emotional tension. And Jane seemed so very very young in her reaction to it the next morning; first waking up in a daze, and then forcing herself back to her normal prim persona when she realises Rochester is gone. Since Jane is often played by an older actress, it's easy to forget that she's only supposed to be eighteen or thereabouts. Another tip of the hat to Ruth Wilson for that; her Jane really does feel the right age.
Every scene with Rochester and Jane was charged. And the proposal scene no less so; I particularly loved the moment where they were both sitting on the rock and Jane refused to look at him when he couldn't take his eyes off her. The excision of the dialogue where Rochester explains his flirtation with Blanche didn't bother me too much. It was condensed into the single question, and Jane's affirmative answer really did seem to allow them to skip that part. It would have bogged down the scene otherwise, if he'd insisted on explaining anyway, not to mention it would have seemed out-of-character for this particular vision of Rochester.
I did feel the pre-wedding sequence was a bit short, but I suppose it's not really the meat of the story, as it were. I did like Rochester's sense of overwhelming urgency, right down to all but dragging Jane to the altar. Anyone who's read the book knows precisely why he's in such a hurry, and even though we all know what happens, surely we all wish he'd made it? And another point to Ruth Wilson for the moment just before they go to the church; you can tell she's hoping for a very different reaction and you can see -- if only for a split-second -- her disappointment with Rochester for not providing it. He's so caught up in his own fear of losing Jane that he's denied her the one moment where she's the centre of the universe: her wedding.
Of course, we all know what happens during the wedding. This last segment of Episode Three was particularly well-done, though I did wonder at the stopping point. I suppose it makes sense that they wanted to keep Rochester's outburst until Episode Four, since it's a nice parallel to Jane's outburst during the proposal scene and having both in the same episode might be too much. Jane absolutely broke my heart. I have no shame in saying that. The shots of her folding the wedding dress and veil with her usual precision even though you could tell she was absolutely shattered inside just ripped me to pieces.
Bertha was also quite good, even in her brief appearance. I liked the contrast between her almost innocent flirtation with Rochester and her blinding fury as she caught sight of Jane in a wedding dress. And of course, the repetition of the red motif. I look forward to seeing how that develops in her later scenes.
On the whole, I suppose it's obvious that I'm really enjoying this adaptation. Both the Zeffirelli film and the 1997 miniseries seemed to gloss over Rochester's cruelty, which this production highlighted. The first version I ever saw was the 1971 miniseries with Timothy Dalton and Zelah Clarke, which I remember liking, though I think this one has superseded it in my mind, in spite of its faults. And I absolutely cannot wait for Episode Four.
I haven't reread the book recently; my copy is somewhere in the ether between Pennsylvania and Oxford at the moment, and therefore temporarily unreachable. I do plan to reread after watching tonight's episode (the last one, alas!).
First of all, I loved the atmosphere of this production. One thing they did that I don't recall other productions having done is put an emphasis on Jane's imagination. Because she most certainly has one, and a vivid one at that. The initial scenes -- however truncated -- really had fun with that, I thought. First, her fantasy from the book she was caught reading, and of course the Red Room scene, which I thought was particularly well done.
The Lowood sequence was a bit shorter than it needed to be, I thought, but that didn't bother me too much. I loved the incredible sense of *damp* that they brought out; the constant dripping water, the sniffling girls...and I liked that Brocklehurst was fat. Very deftly done, that. I do wish we'd seen Miss Temple, since she's the main reason Jane survived the school in the first place, and there really was very little explanation for Jane's transformation following Helen's death to her appointment there as a teacher.
But enough of that. Onward to Thornfield.
Did I think the location they chose for Thornfield was perhaps a bit larger and grander than necessary? A little, maybe. Though it really did become a character in and of itself as the episodes progressed, so I really can't argue with the choice now. Those long corridors that seemed to stretch forever into the unknown; the oh-so-Gothic North Tower and the single flash of red scarf on the grey horizon? (Loved the red accents, by the way. Absolutely utterly loved them. Symbol of Jane's unconscious, much?)
The more I think on it, the more it seems to me that the producers were trying to show Jane's perspective of everything. Maybe that is why Thornfield is so grand and the fog is so romantically thick. Maybe that is why we have the emphasis on madness lurking just around the corner -- because Jane's imagination *is* so vivid and it allows an escape from the prim governess she tries so hard to be.
I now need to rewatch to see if that *is* what seems to happen.
Now, Rochester. Personally, I love Toby Stephens' interpretation. The Rochester from the novel is as changeable as the moors themselves, constantly flickering back and forth between gloomy melancholy and almost cruel playfulness. And boy does he play with Jane! The three or so adaptations I'd seen before focused far more on Rochester's melancholy side -- understandably since that is probably the thing most readers remember about him; he is Byronic, after all -- but Stephens' treatment of Jane, hovering just on the brink of flirtation, seems to me to be truer to the character. I wouldn't have thought of it before; it didn't even occur to me until I was watching that it made so much sense.
As for Ruth Wilson's Jane, I think she's wonderful. Especially good at giving the impression of so much beneath the quiet surface, just on the brink of breaking loose. Episode Three in particular is absolutely heartwrenching. Jane, being the narrator, is often overlooked in favour of Rochester, mainly because it is through her eyes that we witness the story. She is acted upon rather than acting. Wilson gives the impression of being the eye of the storm, which is precisely what Jane should be.
People have complained about the lushness of Rochester's flashbacks, but again, I want to go back to the point of Jane's imagination. He is *telling* the story but it is *Jane's* vision we are seeing. I know this fits for the Céline narrative, though I'll need to rewatch the segment where Rochester talks about the Caribbean to see if I still think it works.
Another complaint has been the excision of the gypsy woman and the game of charades. If we want to view Rochester as cruelly manipulative -- which I think we should at that point -- the former makes more sense. I think the way Stephens plays him, he would rather be hiding in the background and witnessing the interaction than be in the thick of it. A corollary point is the interesting focus on Rochester's intellect, something often left out of previous adaptations. This is Rochester as scientist and naturalist, fascinated by everything -- including Jane, who he, above all other things, wants to understand. I'm less sure about the excision of charades, simply because it *is* so cruel to Jane to see him miming marriage to Blanche, but I suppose that was as much due to time constraints as anything else.
Slight detour: I have often wondered why every production has insisted upon making Blanche a blonde. If my recollection of the book is correct, I could have sworn she was dark-haired. Maybe to show her as a visual contrast to Jane?
At any rate, I loved the contrast here. Blanche, with her golden ringlets and frothy gowns made Jane look all the more severe and stiff. And I almost felt a bit of sympathy for the much-maligned Miss Ingram, since it actually seemed to me that she might have just the smallest grain of fascination, if not actual infatuation, with Mr Rochester. It was just one scene, at the beginning of Episode Three, where Blanche finds Rochester by the hearth and he asks her what she really wants, and she cannot answer. I will never like Blanche -- I have always sympathised far too much with Jane for that -- but I can at least have some feeling for her as another pawn in Rochester's complicated game.
Alright, now I'm going to hopelessly mire myself in my ever-present fangirling of the Jane-Rochester love story. It's messed up, it's inexplicable, and it's absolutely fascinating.
This production really heightened the tension between the two. In spite of the fact that I'd have hated on principle any production that did this, my inner fangirl was screaming 'Kiss her, kiss her!' during the segment just after Rochester's bed was set on fire. That is, in my mind, the hallmark of good sexual/emotional tension. And Jane seemed so very very young in her reaction to it the next morning; first waking up in a daze, and then forcing herself back to her normal prim persona when she realises Rochester is gone. Since Jane is often played by an older actress, it's easy to forget that she's only supposed to be eighteen or thereabouts. Another tip of the hat to Ruth Wilson for that; her Jane really does feel the right age.
Every scene with Rochester and Jane was charged. And the proposal scene no less so; I particularly loved the moment where they were both sitting on the rock and Jane refused to look at him when he couldn't take his eyes off her. The excision of the dialogue where Rochester explains his flirtation with Blanche didn't bother me too much. It was condensed into the single question, and Jane's affirmative answer really did seem to allow them to skip that part. It would have bogged down the scene otherwise, if he'd insisted on explaining anyway, not to mention it would have seemed out-of-character for this particular vision of Rochester.
I did feel the pre-wedding sequence was a bit short, but I suppose it's not really the meat of the story, as it were. I did like Rochester's sense of overwhelming urgency, right down to all but dragging Jane to the altar. Anyone who's read the book knows precisely why he's in such a hurry, and even though we all know what happens, surely we all wish he'd made it? And another point to Ruth Wilson for the moment just before they go to the church; you can tell she's hoping for a very different reaction and you can see -- if only for a split-second -- her disappointment with Rochester for not providing it. He's so caught up in his own fear of losing Jane that he's denied her the one moment where she's the centre of the universe: her wedding.
Of course, we all know what happens during the wedding. This last segment of Episode Three was particularly well-done, though I did wonder at the stopping point. I suppose it makes sense that they wanted to keep Rochester's outburst until Episode Four, since it's a nice parallel to Jane's outburst during the proposal scene and having both in the same episode might be too much. Jane absolutely broke my heart. I have no shame in saying that. The shots of her folding the wedding dress and veil with her usual precision even though you could tell she was absolutely shattered inside just ripped me to pieces.
Bertha was also quite good, even in her brief appearance. I liked the contrast between her almost innocent flirtation with Rochester and her blinding fury as she caught sight of Jane in a wedding dress. And of course, the repetition of the red motif. I look forward to seeing how that develops in her later scenes.
On the whole, I suppose it's obvious that I'm really enjoying this adaptation. Both the Zeffirelli film and the 1997 miniseries seemed to gloss over Rochester's cruelty, which this production highlighted. The first version I ever saw was the 1971 miniseries with Timothy Dalton and Zelah Clarke, which I remember liking, though I think this one has superseded it in my mind, in spite of its faults. And I absolutely cannot wait for Episode Four.