Incidentally, I don’t talk much about how these adaptations deal with Jane’s childhood, but this one really brings on the sadism. These adaptations have a hard time figuring how to fit Jane’s childhood into the narrative, knowing that the viewer wants to get to the grown-up romance. Some of them deal with this by making the child abuse in the original book, which is extensive, even more extravagantly over-the-top just to make sure that we get the point—Jane’s childhood sucked. So, in this version, it is Jane who has her hair cut instead of Helen, and instead of Helen’s stoic response, Jane begs and screams and sobs through the ordeal (contrast this scene with the one in our next adaptation, from 1996, which also diverges from the book but in an empowering manner). Helen is basically murdered by having to stand in the rain, in a bit clearly influenced by Helen and Jane’s rainy punishment in the preceding version from 1943. I find the sadism in both this version and the 1943 version to be ugly, emotionally manipulative and desensitizing.
Modern Movie Adaptations
Jane Eyre, 1996—The One with William Hurt and Charlotte Gainsbourg (★★)
This film takes all kinds of liberties with Jane’s childhood and yet does the best portrayal of her childhood that I’ve yet seen by conveying the spirit of it, if not the details. For one thing, Miss Temple is shown to be the strong mentor that she is in the book. For another, Helen manages to be a moral guide without being hopelessly treacly. In the book, there’s a scene in which Mr. Brocklehurst orders Helen’s hair to be cut. The movie takes this scene and elaborates it into something more Hollywood-y, but it works, because it shows that Jane is a passionate and loyal friend without the preachy dialogue of the book. This is especially notable in comparison to the 1970 version, in which Jane has her hair cut instead of Helen, and she wails and begs for mercy. That version shows Jane purely as a victim, whereas this version shows both her victimization and her refusal to be broken by it. I must say that this scene was quite a kick-ass moment for young Anna Paquin, who plays Jane as a child.
Charlotte Gainsbourg is one of my favorite Janes—up to a point. I love that she has a truly odd little face. It’s beautiful in its own way, but she has a strange jaw and imperfect teeth, and it’s easy to see why she’d be described as plain or as elfin or unearthly. I love her quiet intensity and the fact that she truly seems young. However, the book’s Jane is capable of some laughter and mischief, especially toward the end of the book, and I would have liked to have seen that in the movie. Part of the joy of the story is seeing Jane come into her own, and Gainsbourg’s Jane never does.
William Hurt is a terrible Rochester but a very good William Hurt—that is to say, pensive, intelligent and bland. His Rochester is polite from the first meeting and always seems like he wants to take a nap. I am sad to report that he and Charlotte have no chemistry whatsoever. St. John, on the other hand, is so delightful that I’m at a loss as to why Jane doesn’t just marry him. Another side character who shines is Bertha, who conveys vast amounts of suffering and emotion without uttering a single line.
Jane Eyre, 1997—The One with Ciarán Hinds and Samantha Morton (½)
What in the name of all that is holy is this? Did a producer sleep with Cthulhu and pop this out like some sort of Elder God baby? Ethics compels me to tell you that this is only a partial review, because at about the halfway point I turned the gibbering monstrosity off and fled, screaming, “My eyes! My eyes!” Poor Samantha Morton struggles gamely along as Jane, but Ciarán Hinds, who by all accounts is normally a terrific actor, seems to have contacted some particularly horrid form of rabies as Rochester. He yells, he screeches, his eyes bulge, he drools over Jane’s hand, “So little…so [drool] delicate.” It’s at this point that I fled the scene. Rochester is supposed to be way too old for Jane and he’s a manipulative, secretive jerk, but he isn’t supposed to be a rage-aholic shrieking pedophile.
Here’s what I do think is good about this particular adaptation: it forces you to look at just how dark Jane Eyre is. First of all, the opening sequence, in which Jane is trapped in the room where her uncle had previously dies, is creepy as hell. Secondly, I guess somebody had to take on the job of reminding us that Rochester really is an incredible asshole to this young woman, who has no money, nowhere to go and no helpful knowledge about the world beyond. Rochester isn’t a sexy heartthrob—he’s a wreck of an older man who takes advantage of Jane’s good nature and dependent condition, and Hinds shows this.
In terms of the rest of the movie, it looks like it was shot on a very small budget. The production values are quite poor, and the movie is so dumbed down with helpful exposition rendered in voice-over, that for a while I assumed that it was made for schools as a study aid as opposed to an actual movie for regular viewers. It moves at lighting speed—seriously, Jane’s entire childhood is over with in about ten minutes. The entire movie is only 108 minutes long. This is the CliffsNotes version of Jane Eyre, with much helpful narration from Jane to help us along. For instance, as Jane is being carried away from Helen’s corpse, she says, in voice-over, “I missed Helen so much. No one could take her place. I remained at Lowood for a further eight years. Six as a pupil, two as a teacher. But I was desperate for change.” And…she’s off to Thornfield. The maxim is that in art, one should show, not tell. And this production is all about telling.
Jane Eyre, 2011—The One With Michael Fassbender and Mia Wasikowska (★★½)
As a fan of pretty much all the actors in this movie, I had high hopes for the 2011 Jane Eyre. I was disappointed to the point of fury. This movie is difficult to follow, stilted and monotonous. Fassbender and Wasikowska are clearly charismatic actors, but everything that makes the Jane and Rochester relationship dynamic has been stripped away by the director. I’m suspecting that the reviewers who liked the movie, and there were many, thought of Jane Eyre as “Wuthering Heights Part II”. Otherwise I can’t see why you’d like a movie in which Jane is given nothing to say but has to spend an extremely long time wandering the moors and whimpering.
There were some good points to the movie. For one thing, Judi Dench is Mrs. Fairfax, and she adds all kinds of layers to a character who is usually portrayed simply as a dotty old lady. I thought the narrative structure had potential, with the movie beginning as St. John’s, where his sisters take Jane in and ask her to explain what happened to her. Unfortunately, it grew difficult to follow, especially for my viewing companion who *gasp* had not read the book. Jamie Bell plays St. John, and he bears absolutely no resemblance to the character of St. John in the book, but I liked him. He is very cute and awkward and dorky. If you simply accept that he is a completely different character who has the same name and serves the same narrative purpose, all is well. It adds some suspense that his character is at least relatable, because it creates the possibility that Jane might actually want to marry him or at least keep him as a pet (although she doesn’t).
Michael Fassbender and Mia Wasikowska are both powerful actors who seem to be suffering from terrible direction. Fassbender is a great brooder, but he simply has nothing to do. He has no opportunities to show Rochester’s wit or menace or charm—he just broods, while looking sexy. Also, he cries a lot. The only notable thing about his role is that he’s the only Rochester I’ve seen who actually wears a nightshirt to bed. Mia has this wonderful calm, clear, penetrating gaze that is pure Jane, but she doesn’t have anything to do, either, except alternately weep and look calmly at things. When they are together, the couple stares at each other longingly, and speaks in low, repressed voices. Mia’s one great moment is when she discovers that St. John and the sisters are her cousins, and she lights up with joy. It’s the only moment in the movie where she seems fully awake.
A huge amount of the story is cut, most notably all the conversations that Jane and Rochester have that build their relationship, and most of Jane’s important lines about herself. Instead, there are long sequences of poor Mia wandering the moors, whimpering with hunger and despair. Granted, the cinematography is gorgeous. If you have to film someone wandering the moors, cinematographer Adriano Goldman is your guy.
This movie is a great example of a case where the story is filmed very prettily, and yet, all the meaning is leached