Vintage Viewing: Marion E. Wong, Energetic Entrepreneur

What is certain is that, while ultimately upholding the value of family and of traditional culture, ‘The Curse of Quon Gwon’ gives vivid expression to the frustrations of women within those rigid norms, doing so with a cinematic language of the female gaze that centers female perspectives.

Marion_Evelyn_Wong

Written by Brigit McCone, this post is part of Vintage Viewing, our series exploring the work of women filmmaking pioneers. It also appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors, Part 2.


When considering the ethnographic films of Zora Neale Hurston, as one of the few surviving remnants of early cinema to be directed by a woman of color, I discussed the doubly distorted image of themselves that such women confronted, in a culture without their authorship. At the same time, the article surveyed the significant numbers who were recorded as making films that have not survived, with the intersection of racism and sexism placing obstacles in their path at every stage from financing to distribution to preservation. One of the most energetic women to struggle to fully author her own uncompromising vision, the first Chinese American director, as well as among the earliest female directors, was Marion E. Wong.

Wong founded the Mandarin Film Company (the first Chinese American film company) with ambitious plans to create non-stereotypical images of Chinese Americans, assuming, perhaps naively, that the American appetite for exoticized images of East Asia would make them even more eager to see authentic content. She shared with the Oakland Tribune that she wanted to “introduce to the world Chinese motion pictures with ‘some of the customs and manners of China.’” Mandarin Film Company was practically a one-woman show, with Wong serving as screenwriter, director, supporting actress, and costume designer on their only feature film, 1916’s The Curse of Quon Gwon: Where the Far East Mingles with the West. It’s “the earliest known Chinese American feature” film and “the first and only film made by an all-Chinese cast and an all-Chinese company.” 1917’s Oakland Tribune describes Wong as “energy personified,” with “imagination, executive ability, wit and beauty.” An article in Moving Picture World indicates that Wong traveled as far as New York and China in search of distributors for her film, but none were forthcoming. The film would have likely been as lost as the 1922 film, A Woman’s Error, by pioneering African American filmmaker Tressie Souders, had not two reels of it been unearthed in a basement in 2005. Watching Wong’s film now, we can catch a glimpse of what early cinema might have been, if the viewpoints represented had been more diverse.


Curse of Quon Gwon

The Curse of Quon Gwon: Where the Far East Mingles with the West – 1916

Opening with a statue to the household god Quon Gwon (Guan Gong or “Lord Guan,” a deity based on Guan Yu, a historical general immortalized in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, one of the Four Great Classical Novels of Chinese Literature). Worshiped in Chinese folk religion, popular Confucianism, Taoism, and Chinese Buddhism, Guan Gong represents the principles of loyalty and righteousness. Though the recovered reels of The Curse of Quon Gwon were lacking intertitles, they have been added to this version to enhance the viewing experience, with Guan Gong speaking the words of the Three Brothers’ Oath in the Peach Tree Garden, from Romance of the Three Kingdoms, in translation by Charles Henry Brewitt-Taylor. We are then shown the heroine’s formal introduction to the family of her groom. Wong stretched her budget by filming with an amateur cast: the heroine was played by Wong’s sister-in-law, Violet Wong, the villainess by herself, the mother-in-law by her own mother, Chin See, and the child by her niece. However, her sets are lavish and her camera moves gently back and forth to prevent the scene from being static. In general, Wong’s shot composition and editing compare very well with the industry standard of 1916.

Mixing Western and Chinese costume, Wong raises the cultural tensions and transnational identity of Chinese Americans at the time, resisting the tendency of mainstream cinema to portray “Oriental” characters as static stereotypes, instead imagining them in a state of fluid cultural transformation. As the heroine resists her maid’s efforts to transform her hair into a traditional Chinese style, her aspirations toward Western fashion are clear. An over-the-shoulder shot of her face in the mirror encourages the audience to identify with the heroine’s gaze, one of several moments by which the film establishes an aesthetic of female gaze and subjectivity.

One of the film’s central showpieces is its depiction of a traditional Chinese wedding ceremony, complete with regalia and gifts, reflecting Wong’s desire to showcase Chinese culture to her imagined Western audience. The beauty of these scenes make it difficult to imagine that a lack of quality was the reason for her film being rejected by distributors. Perhaps its centering of a Chinese American woman’s experience was judged unrelatable to viewers, though the struggle of a restless woman to accommodate herself to the strict rules of her culture is a universal theme. The heroine struggles to walk in her high shoes and laugh with her groom at his regalia, showing their unserious attitude toward Chinese traditions, even as Wong’s film celebrates them. After the wedding, Wong utilizes dissolves to show her heroine hallucinating that she is shackled with chains, anticipating Germaine Dulac’s dramatizing of the interior perceptions of women.

When comparing with Dulac, it is worth remembering that Dulac’s revolutionary impressionist and surrealist aesthetics evolved over the course of many films, from a beginning making conventional narrative cinema. Considering how impressive the cinematic imagination of her debut is, if Marion Wong had received support and distribution, there is no telling how experimental she might have become.

Curse-of-Quon-Gwon-scene-1.5mb

After her husband’s departure, the heroine finds herself rejected and driven from the family home, following a false accusation by the villainess, played by Wong herself. She seeks to take her child with her but is prevented, despite pleading for her child to be returned. Stripped of jewelry, she seizes a knife and contemplates committing suicide to purge her dishonor, before throwing it aside and resolving to live on without shelter, friends, or support. Her befriending a lamb may represent her innocence, or the contrast between compassionate nature and cruel culture.

As the heroine wanders off, grief-stricken, across a windswept wilderness, I was reminded of chapter 28 of Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, in which Jane strikes out alone and spends the night on the moors, confronting her place in the universe and testing her endurance. In depicting the heroine’s confrontation with nature, her right to be seen as a self-sufficient being and independent of her bonds with others, is affirmed. It occurred to me that I had never seen an Asian woman in an American film in this way, a different form of empowerment from martial arts (kung fu, wuxia, etc.) heroics – the right to be self-sufficient and to seek existential meaning. Zhang Ziyi’s leap from the mountain at the conclusion of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is the only other example that springs to mind. In 100 years, depiction of Asian women in Hollywood has not matured in its nuance to the level that Marion Wong achieved in 1916. To celebrate the connection of Wong’s heroine with Jane Eyre’s psychological journey as rebellious woman in restrictive society, and acknowledge the Western leanings of Wong’s heroine, extracts from Jane Eyre have been used as intertitles to illustrate the heroine’s thoughts throughout the film.

As a guilt-stricken maid resolves to confess to the heroine’s husband, who has returned and is heartbroken to discover his wife banished, the villainess attempts to choke the maid into silence. Instead, the husband bursts in on them and learns the whole truth (without the original intertitles, it is impossible to determine exactly what the false accusation was, though it possibly involved the heroine’s adorable child). As her husband sets out to find her, the heroine stumbles home, weary from her wanderings. The triumphant reunion of the family, and the despairing suicide of the villainess, conclude the film.

As the heroine adopts Chinese dress, dabs her eyes sorrowfully then gazes on the idol of Guan Gong, bowing solemnly to it, before flashing forward to a scene of the happy family with an older child, the final message of the film is ambiguous. Was the heroine justly punished for her Westernized disrespect of tradition, repenting and learning better by embracing her duty to family? What is the curse of Guan Gong? In the Three Brothers’ Oath, Guan Yu vows, “If we turn aside from righteousness and forget kindliness, may Heaven and Human smite us!” Did the curse then apply to the villainess, who turned aside from righteousness by making the false accusation? Or was it the heroine who was cursed for her rebellious impulses and disrespect of tradition, but redeemed by divine mercy? Are we, finally, to see her Western attitude as transgression or simply as individuality? What is certain is that, while ultimately upholding the value of family and of traditional culture, The Curse of Quon Gwon gives vivid expression to the frustrations of women within those rigid norms, doing so with a cinematic language of the female gaze that centers female perspectives.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJ5dbcFjXhQ”]


Photo of Marion E. Wong via Wikipedia in the public domain in the U.S.


 

Brigit McCone keeps trying to learn Chinese but can’t tell the tones apart, though she is happy the ‘Ireland’ is apparently written as ‘love you orchid’. She writes short films and radio dramas. Her hobbies include doodling and writing posts like this one.


18 Lionhearted Heroines in Film and Television

These 18 Lionhearted Heroines in literature, television, and film echo Bullet’s spirit in their own unique ways–possessing faith, valuing friendship, and experiencing unrequited love or loving and expecting nothing in return–as portrayed by the “perfectly imperfect” actresses who embody them.
In the spirit of Bullet, the quintessential Lionhearted Girl, these 18 Lionhearted Heroines each embody the same steadfast strength and selflessness that Bullet possessed.

This is a guest post by Natalia Lauren Fiore.

Part 2 in a series about “Lionhearted Heroines” inspired by The Killing’s Bullet; see Part 1 here

These 18 Lionhearted Heroines in literature, television, and film echo Bullet’s spirit in their own unique ways–possessing faith, valuing friendship, and experiencing unrequited love or loving and expecting nothing in return–as portrayed by the “perfectly imperfect” actresses who embody them.

In the spirit of Bullet, the quintessential Lionhearted Girl, these 18 Lionhearted Heroines each embody the same steadfast strength and selflessness that Bullet possessed.

Stephanie from Rust and Bone

Stephanie (Marion Cotillard) from Rust and Bone, directed by Jacques Audiard (2012)
Stephanie (Marion Cotillard) from Rust and Bone, directed by Jacques Audiard (2012)

“What am I for you? A friend? A pal? If we continue, we have to do it right.”

As the trailer (included below) suggests, this remarkable French film centers around a vagrant boxer, his young son, and a gorgeous woman who enters their lives under the most unlikely circumstances. The magnificent Marion Cotillard was nominated for an Academy Award for her portrayal of Stephanie, a tough, assertive orca trainer who courageously struggles to rebuild her life after a horrific accident.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jg7skcyYolU”]

Like Bullet, Stephanie’s tough shell cocoons a sensitive soul, one that is gravely tested after her accident.  What is so touching about Stephanie–like Bullet–is her spirited strength and resilience in the face of a reality that most people could not survive.  Even as she deals with her own daunting demons and defies overwhelming odds, she is selfless in her availability to others–in her willingness to share her heart and spirit with those around her.  She forges a beautiful bond with Alain and his son and, like her devotion to the orcas, loves them unconditionally even though Alain rejects, marginalizes, and uses her.  When the bond she feels toward Alain matures into romantic love, she fearlessly reveals her feelings honestly, telling him: “If we continue, we have to do this right.”  Just as she asserts herself to Alain, she regains her desire to resume orca training–and in a silent scene (below), recites her training routine for the first time on the balcony of her apartment. Here, Marion Cotillard invests Stephanie with the outward demeanor of a woman completely at peace with her fate and effortlessly exudes an inner spiritual strength that is heightened all the more by Katy Perry’s inspired song, “Firework”:

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gyyd3yc926s”]

Rust and Bone and Marion Cotillard’s performance as Stephanie take on an added resonance with the release of this year’s incomparable documentary, Blackfish, which chronicles the appalling treatment of orcas and their trainers at SeaWorld:

Sybil from Downton Abbey

Sybil (Jessica Brown-Findlay) from PBS Masterpiece's Downton Abbey Seasons 1-3 (2011-2013)
Sybil (Jessica Brown-Findlay) from PBS Masterpiece’s Downton Abbey Seasons 1-3 (2011-2013)

“I can’t just stand by while others give their lives.”

In this sprawling and superb beloved BBC series, young actress Jessica Brown-Findlay (a former trained ballet dancer who began acting after a career-ending knee injury) shines as the vivaciously independent, strong-minded, and free-spirited Sybil, who fights with fervor for women’s suffrage and offers her services as a nurse when World War I breaks out in England.  Her passion for political causes is equaled only by her slow-burning love for Tom Branson, a young Irish chauffeur who introduces her to a more complicated world beyond the gilded gates of her family’s estate.  Once she enters this world, she cannot go back to the way things were before, and her strength of character holds firm despite difficult social and familial circumstances.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltRIQcTMAy8″]
Jessica B. Findlay speaks about Sybil

Sybil is a great “soul-sister” to Bullet in her innate desire to help and protect others, despite what it costs her.  Sybil’s fate is also akin to the unjust tragedy that befalls Bullet when her powers of protection reach their limit.  Like Bullet, Sybil can no longer protect herself–but the legacy of her life is preserved in all she leaves behind.

Hushpuppy from Beasts of the Southern Wild

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HUSHPUPPY (Quvenzhane Wallis) from Beasts of the Southern Wild directed by Benh Zeitlin (2012)

“When it all goes quiet behind my eyes, I see everything that made me lying around in invisible pieces.  When I look too hard, it goes away.  And when it all goes quiet, I see they are right here.  I see that I’m a little piece in a big, big universe.  And that makes things right.  When I die, the scientists of the future, they’re gonna find it all…they’re gonna know: Once there was a Hushpuppy, and she lived with her Daddy in the Bathtub.”

During a pivotal scene in Beasts of the Southern Wild, a spiritual journey of survival, Quvenzhane Wallis as Hushpuppy summons her entire miniature being to shout: “I’M THE MAN!” when her father challenges her in a dual-like shouting match.  Only six years old at the time of filming, tiny Quvenzhane is much more than her claim to “man-hood”–she is a force of nature who packs a punch that won’t soon be forgotten.  She embodies a little firecracker of a girl with a big desire to see and understand the world around her.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LA6FFnjvvmg”]

Hushpuppy lives a destitute, virtually parentless existence in the Louisiana bayou, a place called “the Bathtub,” with an alcoholic and, at times, abusive father and an assortment of local wild pets. Like Bullet, she is a “street-kid”–inhabiting the “streets” of the bayou and taking shelter in dilapidated shacks–who, despite seemingly hopeless circumstances, embraces the world as a beautiful place and makes a home amongst the animals and plants that afford her shelter and comfort.  Even with the threat of a massive storm closing in on them, she never loses sight of the shoreline toward a bright future where people will “find it all” and “know” that she lived there.

Tiffany from Silver Linings Playbook

    Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence) from Silver Linings Playbook, directed by David O. Russell (2012)
Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence) from Silver Linings Playbook, directed by David O. Russell (2012)

“…There will always be a part of me that is dirty and sloppy, but I like that, just like all the other parts of myself.  I can forgive.  Can you say the same for yourself, Fucker?  Can you forgive?  Are you capable of that?”

The naturally aloof, mysterious, yet generous Jennifer Lawrence hit it out of the ball-park with her Academy Award-winning turn as Tiffany, a recently widowed young woman on a quest for human connection and belonging.  When Tiffany literally “runs into” Pat (Bradley Cooper), a mentally-unstable man obsessed with reclaiming his former marriage, she falls head-over-heals for him instantly and offers to coach him in a new endeavor.  Despite her somewhat hard and brash exterior, she thinks about and feels things acutely–and her determination to “read the signs” and bring Pat out of his shell is at once funny, frustrating, and, for her, heartbreaking as her feelings for him deepen.

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lj5_FhLaaQQ”]

While neither a street-kid nor a lesbian (well, apart from several trysts with female office co-workers as she recounts in this clip), Tiffany shares Bullet’s scrappy resolve to survive in a world that doesn’t appreciate or accept difference. Also like Bullet, despite her insecurities, she embraces her flaws and stalwartly refuses to apologize for them. She’s not afraid to put herself out there, make a fool of herself, or fail. In this sense, like Bullet, she’s the epitome of courage and heroism.

Jane from Jane Eyre

JANE (Mia Wasikowska)
Film: "Jane Eyre" directed by Cary Fukunaga (2011)
Jane (Mia Wasikowska)
 from Jane Eyre, directed by Cary Fukunaga (2011)

“Am I a machine without feelings?  Do you think that because I am poor, plain, obscure, and little – that I am soulless and heartless?  I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart.”

In this bold new vision of Charlotte Brontë’s timeless classic about an orphan girl starved for love and in search of a family, Mia Wasikowska, who–like Bex–was 18 years old at the time of filming, brings a youthful, intelligent, and heroic sensibility to the role of the plain, saintly Jane Eyre.  Opposite Michael Fassbender as Mr. Rochester, Mia naturally holds her own during intensely kinetic moments when this brooding older man made bitter by the misfortunes of life and love, challenges her steadfast moral convictions and sense of self-worth.  Having only read the novel for the first time several months prior to the start of shooting, Mia’s love for the character manifests itself in how much she respects the role which shines through her indelible performance.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8PLpXvhtlc”]

Jane Eyre is arguably one of the most beautifully conceived characters ever written.  What makes her so special and rare is her innate sense of self-worth and self-respect despite a succession of physically and verbally abusive situations in which she is told repeatedly by the people who are supposed to love her the most that she is not worthy or deserving of being loved. It is this inherent bravery and heart that tie her with Bullet in a profound and almost identical manner.  She is also a strong soul-sister to Bullet in her long-suffering, seemingly unrequited love for a man who is forbidden to her because of a described “mere conventional impediment.” And, as soon as that love is finally realized in a brief period of pure bliss for Jane, it is just as abruptly and brutally taken away–as it is so cruelly for Bullet when Lyric rejects her.  Still, sharing Bullet’s faith, Jane never gives up the hope that she will one day be free to love and be loved as she always dreamed.

Hermione from Harry Potter

Hermione (Emma Watson) from Harry Potter Parts 1-8 (2001-2011)
Hermione (Emma Watson) from
Harry Potter Parts 1-8 (2001-2011)

“Actually, I’m highly logical which allows me to look past extraneous detail and perceive clearly that which others overlook.”

Emma Watson, who won the coveted role of Hermione Granger in J.K. Rowling’s beloved series at the tender age of 9 and continued in the role until the series concluded when she was 19–Bex’s age–is perfect to play Hermione because she is Hermione.  She embodies Hermione’s keen intelligence, studious nature, wit, logic, and foresight.  She is so naturally Hermione that many Harry Potter fans see her as the wonderful character in real life. Emma’s success in the role also stems from her ease at befriending the boys who are Hermione’s best friends while, in the same breath, holding her own opposite them.  Using her signature intelligence and foresight, she is quick to call out her male mates whenever she witnesses them doing, or about to do, something idiotic. This no-nonsense strength in her performance is akin to how Bex portrays the tough, no-nonsense Bullet. Both are unforgettable and able to keep those close to them “under their thumb,” to evocate Bullet’s expression.

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpCPvHJ6p90″]

However, while Hermione can wittily outsmart her male comrades during critical situations and events, she is unable to outsmart her own heart, which is nearly broken from her painful, seeming unrequited love for Ron.  Being the clueless fool he sometimes is, Ron has no notion of Hermione’s affections and insensitively flaunts his relationship with another Hogwarts classmate in front of her until he tires of that relationship and that girl. During a poignant scene in The Half-Blood Prince, Hermione confides her broken heart to Harry who, as her best friend, is a prime witness to her silent suffering over Ron’s obvious lack of interest in her.  Hermione’s suffering recalls Bullet’s nearly identical silent suffering over her unrequited love for Lyric, which she, too, confides to her best friend, Kallie.

Amy from Little Dorrit

Amy (Claire Foy)
 from PBS Masterpiece's Little Dorrit (2008)
Amy (Claire Foy)
 from PBS Masterpiece’s Little Dorrit (2008)

“Near the palace was a cottage in which lived a poor, little, tiny woman–all alone.  She realized that for all of her gold and silver and diamonds and rubies, she had nothing so precious to her as that shadow was to that tiny woman.” 

Charles Dickens gave us a precious gift with his lesser known, yet eerily foreseeing novel Little Dorrit, which was adapted into an award-winning 15-part BBC miniseries by Andrew Davies in 2008.  The novel, and its sprawling adaptation, tells the story of the incandescent “little” Amy Dorrit, a tiny 18-year-old girl who has come of age devotedly caring for her widowed father, a 20-year inmate at the Marshalsea Prison for Debt.  Although nearly 10 years older than Amy when she won the role, Claire Foy’s performance cannot at all be described as “little” by any stretch of the imagination. Instead, she seems to understand and empathize so profoundly with Amy that it is as if she and her character are one in the same.  In a press interview during the miniseries release, Claire describes in vivid terms just how highly she regards Amy:

 “Nobody is or can be as selfless as Amy is at all–people give to charity and people do all these noble things, but they don’t possess the pureness of heart in the doing of these actions that Amy demonstrates in the numerous sacrifices of her everyday life.” 

Would that Amy could have known Bullet…

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHTdI-s-fC4″]

Just as Bullet devotes herself to protecting her vulnerable and abused street family, Amy Dorrit sacrifices her entire life for her unjustly imprisoned father and his family.  While being hounded by an escaped murderer who threatens to reveal potentially devastating family secrets, she contracts herself as a seamstress to an elderly, wheelchair-confined woman named Mrs. Clenham, through whom she is introduced to Arthur Clenham–the employer’s generous and benevolent son. It is this meeting that opens Amy’s eyes to a world beyond the barred prison gates where she dreams of winning Arthur’s affections.  And even though she forms a close friendship with him, all hopes she has for a shared future with him are dashed when she discovers–as Bullet does–that he has feelings for someone else.  Indeed, the entire story itself can be seen as a web of unrequited affections: Amy’s unreturned and unappreciated devotion to her abusive father and her unrequited infatuation with Arthur Clenham; Arthur’s spurned love for his mother and for a wealthy village girl who is engaged to a reckless and vain chap; the heartbreaking love and loyalty of Amy’s childhood friend who dreams of marrying her himself.  It isn’t until she is forced to leave the confines of the prison where she grew up that she gathers the courage to stand up for her heart and refute the perception that she is simply a “little woman” with no voice of her own.

The character of Amy Dorrit was based upon and inspired by Charles Dickens’s real-life muse Ellen “Nelly” Ternan, an 18-year-old stage actress with whom Dickens fell in love during his later years.  Their little-known affair is chronicled in a new Sony Classics feature film entitled The Invisible Woman starring another rising young actress (yet 11 years older than the girl she is portraying), Felicity Jones opposite Ralph Fiennes as Charles Dickens.  The film is due to be released in December 2013.

Ashley from Junebug

Ashley (Amy Adams) from Junebug, directed by Phil Morrison (2005)
Ashley (Amy Adams) from Junebug, directed by Phil Morrison (2005)

“God loves you just the way you are, but he loves you too much to let you stay that way.”

In this independent feature depicting a dysfunctional Southern church-going family living in an provincial and isolated Southern church-going community in North Carolina, Amy Adams is a ray of sunshine as Ashley, a seemingly naïve, bright-eyed, bubbly yet sensitive young woman on the verge of motherhood.  Like Bex as Bullet, Amy delivers a bravura performance that infiltrates hearts and minds, stealing the limelight from more known and seasoned actors. She was deservedly nominated for an Academy Award, although her incandescent portrayal transcends the simple “Supporting” Actress category. Indeed, from the first scene to the last, she casts a spell that makes us believe Ashley is the central character just as Bex’s onscreen presence as Bullet becomes the heart of The Killing.

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGXlIvf5RMU”]

The pivotal scene of the film comes when Ashley breaks down in the hospital — and Amy’s powerful gift as an actress is laid bare. In this heart-wrenching moment, she makes a young mother’s grief so naturally palpable and devastating.  The inexplicable bond she shares with Alessandro Nivola, who plays her brother-in-law, recalls the cosmic connection Bullet shares with Holder, particularly echoing the moment he comforts her as she accepts that Kallie is most likely dead. Here, too, Ashley–with the help of her friend–must accept news of a devastating death.  And, while she is overcome by intense grief and anger, she does not let it take root in her heart–and, like Bullet, ultimately demonstrates unwavering faith, positivity, and unconditional love and selflessness toward others. In a largely cynical world where most would succumb to despair rather than embrace hope, Ashley–like Bullet–demonstrates a rare, precious, and admirable resilience of spirit.

June from Walk the Line

June (Reese Witherspoon) from Walk the Line, directed by James Mangold (2005)
June (Reese Witherspoon) from Walk the Line, directed by James Mangold (2005)

“No, I’m not an angel.  I had a friend who needed help.  You’re my friend.  You’re not nothin’.  You’re a good man, and God has given you a second chance to make things right, John.  This is your chance, honey.”

Marking a career that has flourished since early childhood, Reese Witherspoon finally garnered a well-deserved Academy Award for her embodiment of June Carter-Cash opposite Joaquin Phoenix in the title role of Johnny Cash.  Together, the two create a “ring of fire” as an on-screen couple–so blazing that it often seems as though they were made for each in real life, too.  Reese channels June’s well-crafted sense of humor and vivaciousness that masks the disappointment and heartache she feels from being “left like a dutch boy with his finger in the damn” by a chain of unworthy men. She naturally exudes June’s “angelic” generosity of spirit–even during dark moments in her own life–and her no-nonsense strength and resilience, most notably demonstrated in her repeated rejections of Johnny’s disrespectful and self-destructive “stunts.” All this Reese accomplishes while also learning how to sing and play musical instruments to convincingly re-enact the musical performances and shows that June shares with Johnny.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIfdWoHqeXE”]

Akin to Bullet, June Carter is a woman “on fire”–admirable for every aspect of herself.  She is the very epitome of “a friend”–selfless, loyal, loving, honest, and completely devoted to Johnny’s addiction recovery–freely forgiving the many times he hurts or neglects her in return. Her patience and fortitude is unmatched as she bears the cross of the tumultuous, unsanctioned, yet unbreakable bond she possesses with her tour-mate in a saintly manner.

Giorgia from The Best of Youth

Giorgia (Jasmine Trinca)
 from The Best of Youth (Italian: La Meglio Gioventu), directed by Marco Tullio Giordana (2005)
Giorgia (Jasmine Trinca)
 from The Best of Youth (Italian: La Meglio Gioventu), directed by Marco Tullio Giordana (2005)

In this multi-generational, epic Italian miniseries, Jasmine Trinca–a Natalie Wood-esque Roman actress–delivers a sensitive, stand-out performance as Giorgia, a young girl struggling with mental illness and the neglect that comes from the stigma of her condition, especially in 1960s Italy.  Since Giorgia is a girl who cannot speak, or who speaks very little because she lives inside of herself, Jasmine–like Bex==reveals much of the girl’s vulnerable and heartbroken inner life simply through the haunting expressiveness and penetrating beauty of her intelligent, sad eyes – as in this pivotal scene:

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0IM742Np_s”]

Giorgia’s largely tragic journey in this miniseries mirrors the trials Bullet endures in The Killing. Like Bullet, Georgia is an outcast from society, alienated from her family and left to the merciless, unloving environment of a home for wayward and discarded youths.  When Matteo, a handsome, young medical student volunteers at the home and is assigned to care for her, she is awakened for a time to the possibility of being loved and accepted by another human being who seeks to understand her.  She falls for him, but when circumstances separate them, she sinks into the darkest time in her young life.

Ivy from The Village

Ivy (Bryce Dallas-Howard) from The Village, directed by M. Night Shyamalan (2004)
Ivy (Bryce Dallas-Howard) from The Village, directed by M. Night Shyamalan (2004)

“Sometimes we don’t do things we want to do so that others will not know we want to do them.”

Bryce Dallas Howard carries a serene beauty and tomboyish self-confidence as Ivy Walker, the blind yet insightful daughter of the town “elder” played by William Hurt in M. Night Shyamalan’s spiritual thriller. Akin to Bex, Bryce makes an indelible mark in her debut role through the power of her onscreen presence and the expressiveness of her unforgettable face.  She invests Ivy with a rare appreciation for life, for those who are outcasts within the isolated town that is all she’s ever seen of the world, and for the people she cares for the most.  Juxtaposed with her uninhibited serenity, Bryce also manages to emanate Ivy’s overwhelming curiosity to explore the world beyond the confines of the town where she has grown up. She constantly seeks the truth and doesn’t allow her blindness to prevent her from seeking complete illumination. When a senseless crime grips the utopian community and endangers the life of Ivy’s beloved, she embarks on a harrowing journey to conquer “those we don’t speak of” once and for all.  In portraying her heroine’s journey, Bryce balances the opposing traits of fear and bravery, revenge and forgiveness, despair and hope–all the while never losing sight of Ivy’s abiding faith, echoing the way Bullet describes her faith to Sarah Linden in The Killing.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vb0Y89m6fj0″]

Like Bullet, Ivy–a girl who “longs to do boy things” is left to pick up the pieces after her best friend, a village boy named Lucius Hunt who loves her, is brutally harmed.  Before the attack, Lucius is painfully reticent to articulate his true feelings to Ivy–and he won’t even touch her for fear it might reveal his infatuation.  She immediately picks up on this, and in her wonderfully bold and straightforward manner, confronts him about his suppressed love. What spurs the confrontation, however, is an event that tests the courage of the heroine and her fellow townspeople, most especially Lucius who, at last, confesses to her that “The only time I feel fear as others do is when I think of you in harm.” At the peak of the danger, when everyone else is hiding safe in basements, Ivy bravely stands at the entrance of the cabin with her hand outstretched, holding onto the faith that Lucius will finally take her hand in his at the perfect moment.

Alice from Iron-Jawed Angels

Alice (Hilary Swank)
 from HBO's Iron-Jawed Angels (2004)
Alice (Hilary Swank)
 from HBO’s Iron-Jawed Angels (2004)

“You asked me to explain myself. I just wonder what needs to be explained? Look into your own heart. I swear to you, mine’s no different.  You want a place in the trades and professions where you can earn your own bread? So do I. You want some means of self-expression? Some way of satisfying your own personal ambitions? So do I. You want a voice in the government in which you live? So do I. What is there to explain?”

Hilary Swank is outstanding as Alice Paul, the Pennsylvania-raised, Swarthmore-educated Quaker who leads the movement to secure suffrage for women in the early 1900s.  The actress bares all, both physically and emotionally, with a striking authenticity as the bold, brave, selfless, and almost-martyred woman who becomes the willing scapegoat for all of the hatred and abuse thrown at the women during their cause for suffrage. Hilary’s intelligent eyes and eager yet patient smile, as shown in the above photo, are captivating even in the midst of the heroine’s great suffering, mistreatment, and adversity.

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGyB3tV9kU0″]

Alice, like Bullet, lives up to her name–she is every bit the “Iron-Jawed Angel” the public dubs her to be: a Christ-like figure who possesses an unflinching determination to see her cause through without resorting to violent or illegal, unethical means.  She knowingly sacrifices an opportunity for a happy romantic relationship in the service of her cause, and when she is thrown in prison for picketing the office of the president during wartime, she remains undeterred in her conviction that women deserve to be treated equally before the law.  She solicits the solidarity of her sisters-in-arms, including a prominent senator’s wife, to embark on a hunger strike, modeled after an old Irish tradition, until restitution is made and her goal is achieved. It is during this hunger strike that the women endure unconstitutional and unthinkable abuse which almost results in her death–along with countless others dedicated to the cause.

Paikea from Whale Rider

Paikea (Keisha Castle-Hughes) from Whale Rider, directed by Niki Caro (2002)
Paikea (Keisha Castle-Hughes) from Whale Rider, directed by Niki Caro (2002)

“My name is Paikea Apirana, and I come from a long line of chiefs stretching all the way back to the whale rider. I’m not a prophet, but I know that our people will keep going forward, all together, with all of our strength.”

Keisha Castle-Hughes, 13 years old at the time of filming, is one of the youngest actresses to ever have earned an Academy Award nomination for her breathtaking performance as Paikea, the sensitive yet determined Maori girl who shares a special connection with and understanding of the whales that figure so prominently in the ancient legends of her tribe’s ancestors in New Zealand. Keisha’s soulful eyes and calm, spiritual presence juxtaposed with her portrayal of Paikea’s fiery resolve against seemingly insurmountable family and cultural obstacles make viewers long to adopt this precious child–just as many fans of The Killing dreamed of adopting Bex as a daughter, sister, or best friend.  Keisha’s onscreen relationship with the actor who plays her grandfather recalls Bex’s onscreen relationship with Joel Kinnaman in the sense that it is at once loving, intense, tumultuous, and heartbreaking as the two wrestle with each other over their character’s conflicting desires.

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOBvABpfeeY”]

Nowhere is the power of this onscreen relationship more palpable than in the film’s most emotional scene where Paikea delivers a heart-wrenching tribute to her absent grandfather who doesn’t approve of girls displaying themselves in public arenas. Stuck in the old ways of his tribe and married to ancient traditions and customs, Paikea’s grandfather deeply resents the fact that the Gods saw fit to give him a female grandchild, while his grandson–Paikea’s twin brother–died shortly after his birth.  In her speech dedicated to him, Paikea acknowledges and explains her grandfather’s traditional views and offers her full and free forgiveness to him, even though he she is devastated by the fact that he deliberately and humiliatingly does not show up for her performance.  It isn’t until the tribe’s entire future is threatened that the grandfather begins to recognize and accept Paikea’s special gifts.  As in Bullet’s case, Paikea is alienated by the one person whom she puts her trust and faith in, and just as soon as that faith has a hope of being recovered, Paikea’s life is endangered in an act of bravery and sacrifice.

Jamie from A Walk to Remember

Jamie (Mandy Moore)
 from A Walk to Remember, directed by Adam Shankman (2002)
Jamie (Mandy Moore)
 from A Walk to Remember, directed by Adam Shankman (2002)

“It’s like the wind…I can’t see it, but I feel it.”

Although not reaching the award-worthy caliber of performance that Bex brings to Bullet, nor the caliber of many of the actresses portraying the other 18 Lionhearted Heroines, singer-actress Mandy Moore is impressively understated, natural, and sensitive as Jamie Sullivan, a high school senior who is, according to Landon Carter (the film’s protagonist), “self-exiled” from the popular crowd and bullied by them.  That is, until Landon, played intelligently and memorably by Shane West, recognizes her inner beauty and publicly declares his faith in her.  Mandy’s performance is made more impactful through her pairing with West–the two are perfect together and play off one another with ease and genuine affection.  Mandy is herself in the role–a caring, giving girl with a big heart and a gentle countenance.  She embodies what we all strive to be: selfless, unpretentious, honest, strong, loyal, invested with integrity and that ever-elusive faith that Bex’s Bullet defines for Sarah Linden in The Killing.

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i72wRvPw_ik”]

Since the film effectively places us – the audience – in the perspective of Landon as he comes to know Jamie, we witness first-hand and intimately how he comes to fall in love with her. By extension, we fall in love with her, too. And we fall in love with Landon who transforms from a bully/tormentor into a troubled young man searching for his own identity and recognizing in her everything he would like to be. Despite his cruelty towards her, Jamie forgives him and willingly offers her friendship which, at first, he takes for granted. When he succumbs to peer pressure and dismisses her in public, she swiftly and courageously puts him in his place saying, “Landon, look, I thought I saw something in you — something good, but I was very wrong.” This instance of tough love which she steadfastly carries through until he admits his failing motivates him to want to “be better” and shows him that, despite her cold words, she “has faith in him [me] too.”

Danielle from Ever After

Danielle (Drew Barrymore) from Ever After, directed by Andy Tennant (1998)
Danielle (Drew Barrymore) from Ever After, directed by Andy Tennant (1998)

“You have everything, and still the world holds no joy — and yet you insist on making fun of those who would see it for its possibilities.”

Drew Barrymore is a splendid ray of sunshine as Danielle De Barbarac, an intelligent and strong-willed girl in 16th century France whose world is turned upside down after her father dies suddenly of a heart attack when she is eight years old.  Forced to relinquish all traces of her aristocratic heritage to an evil stepmother (Angelic Houston) and her two materialistic and envious daughters (although one of the sisters is actually a kind, giving soul) when she is orphaned, Danielle suffers years of hardship and mistreatment with no light at the end of the dark tunnel until she unintentionally meets the Prince of France, Henry, played by Scottish actor Dougray Scott. Despite being American, Drew Barrymore manages to make herself convincing in the role opposite a mostly British cast through her nearly flawless diction and delivery of Danielle’s often stinging, clever lines.  As an actress who endured deep family strife in her youth, it is evident in how she captures Danielle’s indomitable spirit that Barrymore innately understands the emotional depths of her character.  Her most impressive moments in the portrayal occur when she is depicting Danielle’s tumultuous and heart wrenching interactions with her tormenting stepmother.  And then when she transitions to sharing her passionate vision of the world, and her place in it, with the Prince.

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hcj9fyx6DXI”]

Although we know that, unlike Bullet’s story, Danielle’s story will have a “happily ever after” ending since it is the “Cinderella” fairytale, when this ending does finally manifest, it is as sweet and fulfilling as if we didn’t know how it would end at all.  This is because, as we did with Bullet through her unjust trials, we come to regard Danielle as if she were our own sister, best friend, or close family member.  We witness first-hand how much it costs Danielle to bear the unloving, abusive environment that she is thrust into, and how through it all–just as with Bullet–Danielle retains her innocence, purity of spirit, and her love for and faith in human kind.

Ellie from Contact

Ellie (Jodie Foster) from Contact, directed by Robert Zemekis (1997)
Ellie (Jodie Foster) from Contact, directed by Robert Zemekis (1997)

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve been searching for something…some reason why we’re here. What are we doing here? Who are we? If this is a chance to find out even just a little part of that answer, then I think it’s worth a human life. Don’t you?”

In one of the most emotionally brave and nuanced performances of her career, Jodie Foster is transcendent as Ellie Arroway, a driven scientist who, haunted by her father’s sudden death when she was eight, faces an existential crisis that sends her on a spiritual journey beyond the realm of normal human experience.  Foster’s complete command of her character’s physicality, voice, countenance, and vast knowledge about the make-up of the universe makes Ellie a formidable force to be reckoned with as she vies with scientific pundits and religious scholars about the potential for other life forms in the solar system. Foster is adept at balancing Ellie’s skepticism about religious notions of the existence of God with her unwavering conviction that life inhabits other planets besides our own. As she tells some school children in a science class: “If it is just us in the universe that would be an awful waste of space.”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRoj3jK37Vc”]

What ultimately endears us to Ellie, much like Bullet, is her stubborn insistence to always question and seek answers, despite the staunch discouragement of others and her own self-doubts. Her insatiable quest for enlightenment overcomes her skepticism and, during a near-death experience, she is forced to reckon with her own spirituality and faith.  When called before a scientific committee to give her testimony about the enigmatic experience and challenged to admit that “all things being equal, the simplest explanation tends to be the right one,” she is humble and self-effacing in her assertion that “none of us are alone.”

Elinor from Sense and Sensibility

Elinor (Emma Thompson)
 from Sense and Sensibility, directed by Ang Lee (1995)
Elinor (Emma Thompson)
 from Sense and Sensibility, directed by Ang Lee (1995)

“What do you know of my heart? For weeks, Marianne, I’ve had this pressing on me without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature. It was forced on me by the very person whose prior claims ruined all my hope. I have endured her exaltations again and again whilst knowing myself to be divided from Edward forever. Believe me, Marianne, had I not been bound to silence, I could have provided proof enough of a broken heart even for you.”

Emma Thompson deservedly received double critical praise for writing this intelligent adaptation of Jane Austen’s classic novel in which she simultaneously portrays the eldest Dashwood sister, Elinor, who endures months of heartache at the loss of her father and her suitor, Edward, with an almost saint-like poise and dignity.  Apart from her formidable acting history and training, Thompson’s brilliance in this role stems from her striking ability to balance comedy and tragedy, humor and melancholy, joy and suffering, contentment and grief–just as Bex does so movingly in her role as Bullet in The Killing.

[youtube_sc url=” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJMnm28vAqQ”]

Unlike her overly-zealous sister, Marianne (incandescently portrayed by an 18-year-old Kate Winslet), Elinor does not make a show of her feelings. Instead, she sensibly and selflessly chooses not to burden others with her heartache–just as Bullet endeavors to keep her unrequited love for Lyric and her suffering at the hands of Goldie to herself.  Elinor’s contained emotions at times appears cold to those close to her, especially to her sister who criticizes her repeatedly for her seeming emotional indifference. However, as Marianne painfully learns, Elinor’s saintly discretion proves the wiser and more loving countenance, and in good and perfect time, Elinor is finally free to reveal the sentiments she holds so dear to her heart.

Beth from Little Women

Beth (Claire Danes)
 from Little Women, directed by Gillian Armstrong (1994)
Beth (Claire Danes)
 from Little Women, directed by Gillian Armstrong (1994)

“If God wants me with Him, there is none who will stop Him. I don’t mind. I was never like the rest of you – making plans about the great things I’d do. I never saw myself as anything much. Not a great writer like you. Oh, Jo, I’ve missed you so. Why does everyone want to go away? I love being home. But, I don’t like being left behind. Now I am the one going ahead. I am not afraid. I can be brave like you. But, I know I shall be homesick for you, even in Heaven.”

Then just 14 years old, Claire Danes brought an incomparable spiritual wisdom and tranquil maturity to the sweet, shy, and beloved Beth March, akin to what Bex brings to the beloved Bullet.  Like Bex, Danes is natural and unpretentious in her portrayal–rare virtues for two teenage actresses whose remarkable artistic gifts (Danes was also a pianist, Bex is also a poet) transcend their tender years.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKVlCwKtHr4″]

Claire Danes’ remarkable acting gifts are on full display in perhaps one of the most moving scenes in all of film history when Beth, weakened by the remnants of scarlet fever which she contracts from visiting a poor family, tragically dies.  Knowing that death is upon her, Beth proclaims, “I am not afraid. I can be brave like you. But, I know I shall be homesick for you, even in Heaven.”  She is, of course, telling this to her sister, Jo, with whom she was close throughout her brief life. In this intimate moment between them, Beth reveals her abiding faith, much like Bullet does in her intimate moment with Sara Linden in the car. She asserts her faith in God saying, “If God wants me with him, there is none who will stop him,” and her faith in her sister’s bright future, predicting that she will become “a great writer.”  Although Beth’s death is difficult and heart-wrenching to watch, there is a certain serenity that accompanies the last moments of her life. Bullet’s violent death–not shown on screen–was certainly without serenity and peace; however, we can imagine that her faith was steadfast until the end.

A version of this post first appeared at Outside Windows.


Natalia Lauren Fiore received a B.A. in Honors English and Creative Writing from Bryn Mawr College and an M.F.A in Creative and Professional Writing from Western Connecticut State University, where she wrote a feature-length screenplay entitled Sonata under the direction of novelist and screenwriter, Don J. Snyder, and playwright, Jack Dennis. Currently, she holds a full-time tenure track teaching post at Hillsborough Community College in Tampa, Florida, where she teaches English and Writing. Her writing interests include film criticism, screenwriting, literary journalism, fiction, the novel, and memoir. Her literature interests include the English novel, American Literature, and Drama – particularly Shakespeare. She blogs at Outside Windows and tweets @NataliaLaurenFi.

Classic Literature Film Adaptations Week: A New Jane in Cary Fukunaga’s ‘Jane Eyre’ (2011)

Movie poster for Jane Eyre (2011)
This is a guest post by Rhea Daniel.

The ghosts of Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë have suffered several film adaptations of their most famous works, and the problem with multiple film adaptations of the same novel, however well-meaning or loyal to the text, is that watching three versions of the same story before reading the book can numb one out to the brilliance of the original. I’ve seen this scene before, I’ve heard this dialogue before, I’ve had enough of this famous line because I got to see the three versions of Pride and Prejudice before I hit fifteen. Thankfully, Jane Eyre falls way below Pride and Prejudice in the best 100 books list, so its adaptations didn’t have as much reach or appeal of the latter. I did get to read articles and see films on the Brontës though and they were terribly interesting and creative people, their suffering contributing to the achey longing that filled their books. Lowood School with its pitiful conditions, for one, took its characteristics from the school where the writer lost two of her elder sisters.

The film uses a nonlinear timeline, choosing to begin with Jane’s long trek through the moors after she runs away from Thornfield Hall, her past played out as she is questioned by St. John, making her trudge down the unhappy path of memories again. This actually makes the film more interesting and we need that, because the story of a governess falling in love with her (much older) employer is one overdone in romance novels.

Mia Wasikowska awed us as Alice by blooming from an anxious young girl running away from an undesired proposal into a sword-wielding Jabberwock-killer. As Jane Eyre, she manages to convey the character of the (on the surface) insipid and sexless governess quite well. Blanche Ingram‘s blatant disrespect for her only reinforces the image of the dry governess, but the audience already knows that the deeply passionate Jane is more than that. As for Rochester, Brontë describes him as such: 

I traced the general points of middle height, and considerable breadth of chest. He had a dark face, with stern features, and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reached middle age; perhaps he might be thirty-five.

As Byronic dudes go, Michael Fassbender is close with the stern features and heavy brow, but who are we kidding, both the stars have painfully good looks. Mia’s trademark furrowed brow only makes her more appealing. Michael Fassbender makes a great Byronic dude with his wrinkles. The match seems perfect. In fact the entire movie is terribly perfect; it lacked the rawness of the book, and that’s the only thing I could find wrong with it.

In the beginning, Adèle tells Jane the story of the vampire-woman haunting Thornfield hall, with Adèle’s doll pressed up against the window of a dollhouse in the background.

Jane Eyre (2011) screenshot
The doll represents the watchful presence of Bertha, not revealed as yet, keeping a close eye on the occupants of Thornfield Hall, whenever she manages to escape her prison at least.

Rochester assumes Jane is a bit of a weirdo after seeing her fanciful paintings, telling her as much. Her response, implying that she’s even weirder than he thinks, arouses his curiosity. Her gaze is direct, she is not cowed by him, she possibly hates his (initially) overbearing nature because she’s had her fill of men like him. In their second conversation he reaches out to her almost desperately, bringing his hidden vulnerabilities to light. He finds a kindred spirit in Jane and the inexperienced Jane is moved. We can tell because when she first arrives at Thornfield hall, she curiously glances at a nude painting and after her second conversation with Rochester, she dares examine it more closely. Jane is a decent artist; but for the prudery of the times, she would be practicing human anatomy, but she can’t of course. And considering the reactions to the presence of the painting in the film even in this day and age, one can have plenty of reasons to imagine why*. There’s is more to this painting: Jane’s latent sexuality is aroused, and the presence of the painting is a way of showing a fleshly desire for Rochester. I know this is obvious, but being an artist myself I tend to disagree about equating the two.

The kissing scene in the movie plays itself out exactly as I imagined in the book. Immersed as I was in the tale my reaction was in keeping with the times: what a little strumpet. She’s so enamored by the kiss that she barely notices Mrs. Fairfax’s horror, beaming happily from ear to ear before running off to her room. The insipid governess blooms; she is not so sexless after all. Suddenly she’s a biological creature, and it’s almost vulgar for the audience.

This is just a weak moment for Jane. She is stronger than Rochester. Rochester makes two wrong choices and pays dearly for them. He’s taken in by a profitable, loveless marriage. He falls for a woman’s charms before he is betrayed but he adopts her daughter; both choices stretch his misery yet Rochester is a man with a conscience. Jane has no money or physical charms to speak of, and he finds that simplicity “becoming.” He thinks she won’t cause him any problems. He doesn’t however, speak a word in the defense of Jane after Blanche’s acidic remarks about her profession. Is he spineless and afraid to mess up his courtship with Blanche, or is he trying to make Jane jealous? Would it be patronizing and tiresomely chivalrous of him to speak out on Jane’s behalf? Would Jane be insulted if he shushed Blanche and came to her rescue? We don’t get to see that resolved; all we have to settle for is his rejection of Blanche.

After Bertha’s presence is revealed, Jane refuses to go through with the illicit marriage. There is more for Jane to fear than loneliness with this decision. In Lowood school, there was one thing that kept her passions in check: physical chastisement. Later when Rochester begs her to stay, she is faced with her physical vulnerability again when he says “I could bend you with my finger and my thumb! A mere reed you feel in my hands.” Jane keeps her individualism intact at yet another level in spite of the memory and trauma of past physical violence. If she had said yes she would have to live with the specter of the first wife lurking in the background for the rest of Bertha’s life. As an unloved child, she is not lured into the comforts of heart and hearth, compromising the laws of societal convention that Rochester, who obviously has been burned by both love and marriage, is willing to put aside. Though Rochester’s revulsion for all manmade laws is understandable and his story worthy of pity, she does not hitch her fate to his, and for the abandoned child not to lunge at such an offer is surprising, for why should Jane worry about societal convention? In the book, it’s because it’s ethically wrong. In the movie it is because she must respect herself (thank you Cary, Moira). In spite of being confronted with the fear of loneliness once again, accentuated by her cold and the endless trek through the moors, Jane manages to make a decision well-balanced by intellect and intuition. She does it once again, refusing the offer of marriage from St. John, not giving in in spite of him berating her “lawless passion,” and in spite of owing him her life, because it would go against her nature and thus “kill” her. Jane is a classic proto-feminist**; she controls her passions enough to work out her priorities, but not at the expense of her deepest desires.

When Jane returns after the fire, she finds what remains of the painting is but the frame, the canvas burnt out and the half-burnt doll sitting inside it (symbolism much?). Jane has been jolted out of her brief experience with earthly pleasure (burnt nude painting), and her love for Rochester has matured. Bertha (the doll) is gone; no hurdles remain between Rochester and Jane’s union. Jane picks up the doll with some sadness when Mrs. Fairfax finds her. In spite of Bertha being Rochester’s ball and chain, neither of them blames her. Considering the lack of knowledge in the field of mental health, Rochester was being kind for the time by locking her up. She was still the madwoman in the attic though, standing like a rock between Jane’s and Rochester’s happiness, and once she was gone, they could all breathe a sigh of relief and move on. Perhaps she represents the wild, passionate part of Jane’s psyche that is now released, but I’m not going to stretch that one out…

The central story of the complex lone woman, unloved and unwanted–matched with the world-weary hero set in a background that’s far from sumptuous–is in great danger of turning into a great depressing drag of a tale, so it’s incredibly important for that spark and pull between them to work. The script by Moira Buffini aids this, taking only the relevant bits from the novel and chipping away at them so that they shine at the significant parts of the movie, avoiding the verbal diarrhea that can come with being loyal to a classic novel. The music too, soars lonesome and yearning to match the tormented souls of the main characters. The lighting is superbly planned, muted and misty in the day and full of deep flickering shadows in the night, the house dark and creaky just like the gothic Thornfield of the book. From what I saw of the deleted scenes (those are always interesting) Helen’s ghost arrives to guide Jane through the moors. This coupled with Jane’s hearing Rochester’s voices would have been clairvoyant overkill, so I’m glad that was edited out. Jamie Bell is amazing as St. John, a warmer version than the book. Judi Dench plays Mrs. Fairfax, sticking to the role of a secondary character and not pressing her presence, the trait of a self-assured and experienced actress***. The claim to the horror element by the crew though, I can’t really place. This movie wasn’t remotely nail-biting or scary.

Whether Jane Eyre purists agree with me or not, there’s little not to like about Jane Eyre (2011), and I eagerly anticipate the release of director Cary Fukunaga‘s next film.

*It’s art, barely pornographic, get over it people.

**Not sure if the term applies, but I love it so I’m using it!

***For who can forget the woman who called James Bond a sexist, misogynist dinosaur??

———-

Rhea Daniel got to see a lot of movies as a kid because her family members were obsessive movie-watchers. She frequently finds herself in a bind between her love for art and her feminist conscience. Meanwhile she is trying to be a better writer and artist and you can find her at http://rheadaniel.blogspot.com/.