Jane Eyre, Revelation, and Earthly vs. Eternal

Though Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books (I have explained that "this book is my soul"), it's been a while since I brought it up. Lately I've been pondering the ending. To refresh your memory, the book ends with Jane sort of summing up what has happened to other characters--namely, her Rivers cousins. On the one hand, this is entirely common for a Victorian novel. But the very last words feel more specific and less common. The novel ends by quoting St John Rivers quoting the end of the book of Revelation. If this isn't coincidence, then what is the meaning?

This could be a premise for a literary paper rather than a blog post. But I'll approach it blog post style, eh? 

Let's look at what else is in the last chapter of the book. Jane explains that she has married Rochester. She tells how happy they are together. But there is also great emphasis on Rochester's conversion. Faith is an extremely important element in Jane Eyre. This is one of the reasons why the 2006 movie version is my favorite: it includes the faith element. Yet even that film only gave Rochester a brief moment to mention that he had cried out to God in his distress. But the novel makes it clear that this is central to Rochester's ability to love Jane as an equal and to live his life now freely and happily. This is, of course, also why we have Rochester's literal blindness as a metaphorical expression. Eventually, his sight returns--that is, his eyes are opened, which is a concept commonly associated with spiritual awakening. 

It is indeed supernatural that Jane and Rochester are reunited at all. I remember hearing discussion about how Jane's experience hearing Rochester's voice calling to her when she is with St John is written in the style of Victorian religious/spiritual epiphanies. It is a fantasy element in a real world setting--so it could be interpreted as divine intervention. Rather than seeing it as Rochester is Jane's god (after all, she has earlier in the text referred to him as God's human being "of whom she had made an idol," which is why she chooses to leave him instead of taking him up on his offer of the villa), you can see that spiritual overtone as simply expressing God's involvement. 

That is, Jane at this time is pondering God's will and seeking guidance. She doesn't want to marry St John, but she also doesn't want to ignore God's will and so wants some sort of assurance that it isn't God's will for her to marry him. And Rochester is at this time experiencing his conversion. So you can look at it this way. God allows Jane to hear Rochester so that she will know that she doesn't need to marry St John and is free to return to Rochester. And this is also in response to Rochester's repentance; he is now free to experience God's mercy and the good gift of the love of the woman whom he loves. Whereas before Jane loved Rochester out of loneliness, now she has been her own person without him and can love him simply as a person. Whereas before Rochester loved Jane as redemption, now he sees redemption in God and can love Jane simply as a person. See a trend here? 

Now how does this connect back to St John and Revelation? You have at the end of the novel a picture of these two pairs. Jane and Rochester are an earthly relationship and earthly happiness. Jane chose to marry Rochester instead of St John. So St John has not married anyone else; he simply serves God, so in a sense his marriage is to God (you hear more often people talking about single women as being married to God, but you can apply the same symbolic concept to men). So you have that eternal relationship to compare with the earthly one. 

And the church is often referred to as the bride of Christ awaiting his return. St John quotes Revelation by saying, "Amen; even so, come, Lord Jesus," and bringing up that image of the bride waiting for the groom. St John, on the verge of dying, is about to meet the symbolic groom. Jane waited a long time for her physical groom. So what is the picture there to the reader? It's a juxtaposition and blending of earthly and eternal. 

The reminder is that Christ is coming and that one must live in readiness to meet him. So Jane gained her earthly happiness, but it is not ultimately portrayed as being more important than her spiritual state--which is why there is so much emphasis on her not betraying God simply to be with Rochester. Jane has her earthly comfort, but in describing St John's comfort even when he is so close to death, she is also describing how she will feel. Jane began life alone and unwanted--and from all of this we know that she will end it feeling loved and accepted. A bride waiting eagerly for her groom. 

Mixed Feelings: Jane Eyre (2011)

I finally today watched the 2011 version of Jane Eyre, with Mia Wasikowska as Jane and Michael Fassbender as Rochester. I have a hard time deciding my full thoughts on it, so I will go point by point.

I didn't like the changing of timing the movie experimented with, putting Jane's departure from Thornfield (which it seems filmmakers like messing with) as the opening scene. It turned out okay overall, but I found it unnecessary to edit it together like this.

It begins to seem to me that the casting directors also have fun casting Helen--this Helen also had that "look" that makes her Helen. It was nice (I know, this sounds bad, but you know what I mean) to see the scene where Helen is beaten--this is a moment that shows simultaneously the harshness/cruelty of the school and Helen's attitude/life philosophy/humility.

Basically the only thing I had heard before watching the movie was that the filmmakers wanted to express the Gothic element of the book, which is great to hear after finding that element so lacking in the 1996 version. But it was there in the 2006, so I can't say I was overly impressed by it in here. But it wasn't bad.

I didn't like Adele. I just didn't like her. I didn't like the look of the girl cast (for the role, I mean, of course), and I didn't like that she always spoke in French that was always captioned in English. I did, however, find the scenes of Jane with Adele rather interesting, the way Jane talks to her. It was also a nice introduction to the gytrash when Jane was telling Adele the story soon before the first encounter with Rochester.

And, ah, yes, Rochester. I have some comments on him. I didn't like him much. Mostly, he just seemed like a bad casting choice. First, I thought he seemed too young, with not enough lines in his face (Rochester, has both years and troubles to add lines to his face); looking his age up after the movie, I found that I was right in judging him too young (I don't want to be too strict, but no one would want to cast a thirty year old as Jane, right?--age matters to a degree). He also didn't give the right complement to Jane. Michael and Mia had chemistry onscreen, but it was not of the Jane and Rochester sort. Rochester wasn't the old, teasing grump he tends to be--he seemed too flat to me.

But I must say that I got ridiculously happy in the first formal meeting between the two, when Rochester says that Jane must have been waiting for "her people" when she scared his horse--this moment has both the fairy element and the teasing element, yet I have never seen it in film. Wonderful to finally.

And now on to Mia. I had seen her, like everyone else, in Alice in Wonderland. But I so thoroughly dislike that movie. I find it boring and uninteresting. Well-done by certain accounts, but also so lacking. And the character Mia plays there is, well, the blank canvas on which everything else happens. I was so scared to see a blank Jane next.

The opening scenes with the Rivers family didn't show me much, but once we got on to Thornfield, oh, I found myself so surprised and rather amazed at times. She combined traits from both of the other performance I've seen: the reigned-in sense and a more emotional side under the surface. She, I think, conveyed the sense that she remains composed because she has to in the roles she is in--governesses are not supposed to speak too much. Not to say I found her performance perfect, no, but she did quite well.

I wasn't satisfied by the way the engagement scene played out; it just happened. It didn't go right emotionally.

Bertha wasn't conveyed right. I don't mean in the moment we actually see her: that was fine. But I didn't get the sense of the way Rochester is constantly running from his house that she is in. Nor so much of Jane's reaction.

I have to give a note on St. John. He was interesting to me from the start, and I'm still not sure exactly why. Maybe because he was different from how I've seen him before. I just wish, I think, that we could have had a little more time to develop points in his character--his sense that he acts as he should for God's will, but also the sense that he goes too far ascetically. And where was Miss Oliver? Her presence means so much, surely she could've had a brief appearance, even if it's just so that we can all laugh at St. John's reaction to her.

In the final scene, there wasn't quite enough conversation between Jane and Rochester. In fact, there was hardly any. And it was all in one place, just one meeting and then the end of the movie. That didn't feel like enough. I didn't feel like they had grown. It was just as if their outer circumstances were finally letting them get together. Where was the depth of it? When a movie doesn't end as you like, that can give a bad coloring to the whole thing. I find myself feeling similar to the 2006: the middle section was better, but as the movie went on, my interest started to dwindle.

Oh, and I wasn't a big fan of the music. It at least had some uniqueness, but I still didn't feel like it set the right tone. It was too yellow, not emotionally trembling enough.

I fear I have so many negative thoughts on this movie. But it was good; really, they did get things right, probably more than some of the other versions I'll be getting to next. But my first adaptation love is still my favorite: to the 2006 I will still give my greatest loyalty.

Missing Jane's Complexity

I just finished watching the 1996 version of Jane Eyre. Much as I proclaim my love for Charlotte Bronte, I have only seen the 2006 two-part BBC miniseries; I thought it was about time that I start moving through all the previous adaptations, as well. I have put this off because I very much like the 2006 version, and I have been afraid to watch any others for fear of tainting that love or, even worse, losing my love for this story.

I don't think either of those things have happened. I may be wrong to write down my thoughts so instantly after seeing the movie, but I can hardly help it. So here is my take on the 1996 movie.

The opening bit didn't make me feel like I knew Jane well enough, though I did like that the red room was actually a room with red furnishings (versus the weird red light the 2006 one projected onto the room). Anna Paquin did a good job as young Jane, and I rather liked the girl they chose for Helen Burns (although I didn't feel like she was so much a mentor to Jane as in the book). It was nice to see Miss Temple (who is missing from the 2006) in Lowood. But at about this time, I began to think that the theme of faith wasn't put in enough, and that surely we should be seeing more into Jane's imaginative nature. Instead, Jane does her drawings--with the insinuation seeming to be that she does them rather well; yet she only does (in canon) them as a way of expressing all of that great imagination and passion she has inside her mind, not because she has a particular talent at art.

And when she goes to Thornfield, there did not seem to be enough emphasis on the strange, out-of-the-ordinary act of independence her advertising to get the job was--it's more like it was just the next step for her to take.

Now let's talk about Charlotte Gainsbourg as Jane. I've grown to rather like Ruth Wilson as Jane, so Charlotte took a little getting used to, but honestly, much of her portrayal is probably more like how I imagined Jane would look (I mean, in her expressions and such) in her daily life. When I first saw Ruth, I thought she sometimes showed a bit too much emotion on her face. Don't get me wrong, Jane feels very much emotion, but she usually tries to hide a lot of it. Even when she is saying bold things. So Charlotte had a way of keeping her face from being too emotionally expressing. But sometimes it was a bit much. And I don't know if this was her fault or the director's. I tend to think the latter. Because the thing is, it's okay if we have a Jane who isn't wearing her features on her face so much, as long as we are always aware of how acutely she does feel. That can be expressed in many ways in a movie. Music is one way; I love the music in the 2006, but the music in this one hardly ever set the right tone. At least, it didn't act as the agent for engaging the audience in the emotion that it could (or should) have been.

Because there is one more point related to this: this movie doesn't seem like it was, after all, meant to be so much from Jane's perspective. We see a couple of scenes where Jane is not present (like Rochester and Adele together, wishing she would come back from visiting the dying Mrs. Reed), and there are some transitions where she suddenly pops up without us knowing exactly how she got there. So it's almost like we're outsiders looking in on the story. This doesn't have to be a bad thing, I suppose, if it's done right, but no, it wasn't. It just felt like a connection was missing.

I guess I'm obligated to say something on William Hurt as Rochester. He also took getting used to. I think my conclusion is that I would like his take on the character more if I was not familiar with the book: I liked the way he played his character and I could sympathize with him, but he was missing a key Rochester characteristic or two. Again, this could also be because certain kinds of lines are missing from the script given to the actor. Like the teasing that takes place between Jane and Rochester. There is a bit of it, but not nearly enough: it's almost what their relationship is first built on, isn't it? You can't just go and take it out.

Oh, what else? Adele didn't always sound French enough to me. Why on earth was the Rivers family introduced earlier in the story, only to come back again for so brief a bit? Why was Adele at school when Jane and Rochester were supposed to get married the first time? Where was the wonderful epiphany (there was the "Jane! Jane!" call, but it can hardly be called an epiphany--I was never thrilled at the 2006 version of it, and this was worse) that leads Jane back to Thornfield in the end? Which leads to . . .

Where was the spiritual element that is such a huge part of the book? It started off okay with young Jane, but then disappeared entirely. Where was the fantasy? Sure, Rochester says a thing or two about Jane's fairy element, but there's hardly much basis for it in the movie. Where, even, was the Gothic? Grace Poole looked wonderfully vampirish (seriously, I loved her look), but the Gothic was not strong enough.

This movie felt too much like just a period movie. Like an Oliver Twist story. (I've nothing against Twist--it has some good stuff, but it isn't the same stuff Jane Eyre has.) Here's poor, unloved Jane sent to a cruel school until she goes to teach at Thornfield, eventually finding an inheritance from a long lost relative and her perfect love. Too many of the fibers of the story are missing that make the expression of this plot-line unique.

My final statement is this: I generally liked this movie. It makes for a quaint love story. But it ends there. And the absolute beauty about the book on which it is based is that there are so many layers. The quaint love story is only the topmost one, the one I loved when I was twelve. Underneath, there is what I now love eight years later: Jane's entire journey of self-discovery and self-independence and dependence on God--the relationship with Rochester is just the outer situation that is the vehicle for all of these other discoveries and expressions about who Jane is and what she does on her life's journey. I can't get all this from the 1996 movie.

As always, I find I must return to the book.

The Phantom is Also a Rochester

Click here for my introduction to "The Rochester Character" and here for the second addition to it.

I have a fourth character to add to the jumble of Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre, Henry Higgins from Pygmalion, and Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. The newbie is the title character of The Phantom of the Opera. I mean him no offense by calling him "the phantom" instead of his name, Eric; it's just that most people don't know his name. Even less people than know that Sleeping Beauty's name is Aurora, I'd say.

The most obvious similarity here is the controlling characteristic. Out of the four, the phantom seems the one who has the most control. The entire opera is under his control. Heathcliff only controls a couple of houses out in the country, Higgins only controls his work and everything relating to it, and Rochester acts like he's in control, but really isn't. He has a past and present with Bertha that he can't escape and Jane chooses to leave him.

With the exception of self-centered Higgins, they're all exerting this control, to a degree, for a woman. The phantom sets up his elaborate scene to gain Christine, like Heathcliff wants revenge for Cathy and Rochester wants to be able to have a future with Jane.

The phantom is very similar in my eyes to Heathcliff with the buried-deep good core beneath so much evil from the pain of the past. (That's a nice, wordy description, isn't it?) He, like Heathcliff, couldn't be accepted by the world, because of his appearance versus his lack of social standing. He used the excuse to cause torment to others. Christine isn't much like Cathy, though, except that they both choose another man. Christine is a better person, which is why she doesn't love the phantom back, even if she can and does pity him.

Heathcliff is a Rochester

To continue with "The Rochester Character," here's the next character to add to the bunch: Heathcliff from Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. Although I don't have too many particular feelings for Mr. Heathcliff besides a little pity, I do love his name. It's short to say, long to spell, a stand out among other characters, and it has a nice natural influence. But on to our comparison.

Heathcliff, like Rochester and Higgins, is also changeable and moody. But he's darkly so. He's always sinister, even when acting kind. Most of the time, his quick changes in mood are when he figures out how he can manipulate the people around him to suit his plans for revenge and ruining everyone's life. Happy person. That pessimism links him closely to Rochester, who broods over his past, then broods over losing his only hope in Jane. But Rochester only broods, Heathcliff acts with vehemence.

Though it's odd: I think of Heathcliff as having a naturally good center hidden somewhere inside of all his evil and Rochester as having a naturally hard and dark center inside his attempts to overshadow it. Which in the end, he does manage to do, thanks to Jane for "showing him the light." Going back to that pity I have for Heathcliff, I don't think he ever really wanted to do wrong. But he had no one. He had an adopted family that didn't like him much. He had a friend that he loved who was forsaking him for a passing (and rich) fancy of hers. It killed the good in him. It makes me wonder what Heathcliff would've been like if he had chosen differently. He threw himself so entirely into his evil purpose that I'd like to see that force put into a good purpose.

I said that the good in him was killed, but it wasn't entirely taken away, all the same. This is why I see him with a good center: even in all his darkness, he still remembers Cathy so tenderly. He tries to gouge out his heart, but it's still there. Which is similar to how Rochester simply despairs without Jane, but still loves her and is able to continue on with her so easily when she does come back.

The flower and the Cactus

To apologize for not having a picture before, I'm posting this one today that has absolutely nothing to do with what I'm talking about. Wait. . . what am I talking about?

Let's try a new strategy: connecting this picture to some book or other.

The flower doesn't have the best focus here (I know, I'm not a great photographer), but I love its contrast against the cactus pad. They contrast in looks, but they're actually quite similar. The flower is pretty, but small and insignificant. The cactus pad is larger, but uglier, especially given all the holes in its flesh. So they're on pretty equal ground. Like. . . Jane and Rochester! (Somebody should probably start thinking about reading more than just Charlotte Bronte.) Of course, Jane is plain rather than pretty, but I'm thinking of who she is instead of what she looks like. She's a kind, devoted, beautiful person, though very small in the world. Rochester, well, he is kind of ugly. But besides that, he's higher up. You can see his status, his power. Cactuses are powerful things, storing all that water (like Rochester's inherited money) to live off of for so long. Then they both have their strength. His is more inherent; hers she has to work for more to survive in the desert they're in.

Well, to say "desert" figuratively, of course. I personally adore physical deserts. The weather is so beautiful now that the sun is actually warm again. That's why I just had to go on a photo shoot of all the pretty greenery, including this pair.

The Rochester Character

I've been neglecting this blog, but these last couple of weeks have been busy. And I got sick somewhere in there. Not fun. But I should be able to take comfort from the fact that Josh Groban was sick at the same time.

Anyway, I'd like to compare two characters today: Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre (where else?) and Henry Higgins from George Bernard Shaw's play Pygmalion. If you're familiar with these two, that probably sounds pretty drastic, but just hear my argument first.

Last spring (almost exactly a year ago), I saw a great version of this play in Mesa by the Southwest Shakespeare Company, starring Broadway actor David Adkins as Henry Higgins. I thought it was hilarious, so I had to go see it a second time, which happened to be its last performance. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, it's based on the myth of a sculptor who falls in love with his statue of his ideal woman. In the play, Higgins is a professor of phonetics who teaches Eliza Dolittle, a London flower girl, to speak with a proper accent. At times, it seems like they're going to end up together, but they actually don't for character reasons.

Now, both Rochester and Higgins have changeable natures. They're often curt in speech, jumping quickly from one attitude to another. Rochester studiously examines Jane's paintings before abruptly ordering them away; Higgins excitedly tells Pickering about recording his visitor's speech until he sees that it's Eliza and grumpily sends her away. Higgins is more easily likeable, though, because it's so easy to just laugh at his antics, whereas Rochester is a darker character.

Both of them are overbearing towards Jane and Eliza. They order them about and treat their feelings rather harshly. But Jane welcomes the attention, Rochester's strength, and the chance to help someone improve himself. Eliza is too strong a character to bend underneath Higgins, who is himself too complete in himself to ease up enough to keep her.

Keep the two main points of "the Rochester character" in mind. Changeable and controlling. I'll probably refer to this more, especially when I bring in another couple characters.