Samantha Morton is Jane Eyre in this nicely appointed TV adaptation of Brontë's novel, which I've never read. Morton is a winner. She exudes the dignity and purity of a young woman who has never had any but moral thoughts. Her face is pale and her limpid eyes are blue and she sweeps her hair back in some kind of bun or whatever it's called, prompting any normal male to wonder what it would be like to take a tender bite out of her cygnet neck. I can't say that Ciáran Hinds as Rochester is equally impressive. Oh, he has the requisite traits of a good husband -- immense wealth, a mansion with ramparts in the country, a dark commanding presence, and a mystery waiting to be unraveled. But he has the features of a footman not an Esquire and Hinds turns the role into a loud and unattractive irritant. If I were a woman I'd have to be pretty hard up.
The story has a feisty Jane sent off to Mr. Brocklehurst's stern and religious boarding school, afterwards being hired as a governess for Rochester's young daughter. She's a nice quiet governess, and the girl likes her too. As for Mr. Rochester, it's not clear. He sends all kinds of mixed signals and the only one played without a mute is his role as master of the house, snarling, accustomed to ordering people about. Not sadistic, just accustomed to being obeyed. Is he beginning to feel warmly towards Jane? Hard to tell. He has conversations with her, asks for her advice, seems to need her around, but on the other hand he's engaged to a beautiful and sophisticated blond, who he believes is only after his money.
He proposes to move Jane to a position as governess at a large farm in Ireland. "They say the people there are very friendly," he crows. The book was published in 1847. The Irish had been pummeled by the English for more than a century and were currently undergoing the Great Potato Famine that starved many of the Irish and sent the rest of them high-tailing it to Boston. (Note to Edward Rochester: Vett your sources.) Jane is of two minds about this deal. She'll miss the housemistress, the daughter, the friendly maids and -- "And who?" he asks brusquely. "And you, sir." "Yes, it's a shame. We have been good friends, haven't we." I swear, I find little admirable in this guy. But then she floods out, as Jung would have put it, and the dam of his own passions is broken. He sweeps her up and gives her a gentlemanly kiss on the lips and she seems to suffer la petite mort before he finally, finally, pops the monumental question.
But wait. It's not over. It can't be over. There is still the mystery of who is running around the house at night doing crazy things like setting rooms on fire. We've got to know. Besides, the movie is only two thirds over. Everyone claims that the night-time chaos is caused by one of the maids, a Grace Poole, who drinks too much. Jane has never laid eyes on Grace Poole and when she wakes in the middle of the night to find someone tearing up her robe, the eminently practical Rochester assures her, "Why, it must have been a dream, Jane," the torn robe notwithstanding.
The ending seem hurried, twisted, convulsive and rollercoasterous but satisfying in a way that Hollywood would approve of. I don't think I'll describe it. But I must say that some of the plot threads have obviously been ripped off by Daphne du Maurier in "Rebecca." Well, if it works --
The story has a feisty Jane sent off to Mr. Brocklehurst's stern and religious boarding school, afterwards being hired as a governess for Rochester's young daughter. She's a nice quiet governess, and the girl likes her too. As for Mr. Rochester, it's not clear. He sends all kinds of mixed signals and the only one played without a mute is his role as master of the house, snarling, accustomed to ordering people about. Not sadistic, just accustomed to being obeyed. Is he beginning to feel warmly towards Jane? Hard to tell. He has conversations with her, asks for her advice, seems to need her around, but on the other hand he's engaged to a beautiful and sophisticated blond, who he believes is only after his money.
He proposes to move Jane to a position as governess at a large farm in Ireland. "They say the people there are very friendly," he crows. The book was published in 1847. The Irish had been pummeled by the English for more than a century and were currently undergoing the Great Potato Famine that starved many of the Irish and sent the rest of them high-tailing it to Boston. (Note to Edward Rochester: Vett your sources.) Jane is of two minds about this deal. She'll miss the housemistress, the daughter, the friendly maids and -- "And who?" he asks brusquely. "And you, sir." "Yes, it's a shame. We have been good friends, haven't we." I swear, I find little admirable in this guy. But then she floods out, as Jung would have put it, and the dam of his own passions is broken. He sweeps her up and gives her a gentlemanly kiss on the lips and she seems to suffer la petite mort before he finally, finally, pops the monumental question.
But wait. It's not over. It can't be over. There is still the mystery of who is running around the house at night doing crazy things like setting rooms on fire. We've got to know. Besides, the movie is only two thirds over. Everyone claims that the night-time chaos is caused by one of the maids, a Grace Poole, who drinks too much. Jane has never laid eyes on Grace Poole and when she wakes in the middle of the night to find someone tearing up her robe, the eminently practical Rochester assures her, "Why, it must have been a dream, Jane," the torn robe notwithstanding.
The ending seem hurried, twisted, convulsive and rollercoasterous but satisfying in a way that Hollywood would approve of. I don't think I'll describe it. But I must say that some of the plot threads have obviously been ripped off by Daphne du Maurier in "Rebecca." Well, if it works --