As the bearer of a B.A. in English, I am contractually obligated to see any and all film adaptations of Great Works of Literature. If Dover ever made a thrift edition from it, and that edition was then palmed off on a desperate screenwriter to adapt, my ass is in a theatre seat. And so, seeing Jane Eyre was a given. But was it any good? Generally yes, although I'm not sure if that's my critical faculties speaking, or my intense appreciation for Michael Fassbender's body... of work.
He's Mr. Rochester, who employs Jane Eyre (Mia Wasikowska) as governess to his French ward. As so rarely happens in real life, but is so delightful in fiction, Jane's fine intelligence and noble resolve win Rochester's heart. But there's a secret prowling around in the attic that threatens the wedding. And it's not the kind of issue all those wedding shows on TLC would lead you to expect.
Sure, both Jane and Rochester should be homelier, but every lit student has given up on that kind of accuracy. And it's not the main problem with the film. It falls down on the pacing, spending too much time dwelling on the horror of Jane's childhood, so that by the time her romance with Rochester comes around, it feels rushed. I might consent to marrying Fassbender's Rochester within months (it feels like minutes on screen) of meeting him, but my brow is not as steely as Jane's. At least every scene is beautifully shot, so if Michael Fassbender doesn't appeal, the light-enfused landscapes surely will.
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