Would that I was able to tell you that, having seen every screen adaptation of Charlotte Brontë's classic Jane Eyre, including the BBC production(s) that reportedly dwarfs all other incarnations according to true Brontinites, I could now write of this latest adaptation, directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga, with a sure sense of where it falls in the lineage and, if it really matters, how faithful Moira Buffini's script has kept to its source material. Sadly, however, this is only the second adaptation of the tale that this particular reviewer has seen, the first being Franco Zeffirelli's splendid 1996 version, starring a young Charlotte Gainsbourg as the eponymous governess and William Hurt as the brooding Mr. Rochester, the employer for whom she falls hard.
As it turns out, however, Fukunaga's take on Brontë's gloomy vision of class, religious austerity, and the most closely guarded chambers of the heart needs no contrasting or comparisons to earn its rightful praise. A huge step forward from the director's middling, beautifully shot border-crossing debut, Sin Nombre, Jane Eyre puts far more stress on Fukunaga's exquisite sense of composition and working relationship with actors. It also thankfully sees him working from a script by Ms. Buffini, who did solid work adapting Tamara Drewe for Stephen Frears, which helps skim away many of the heavy-handed allegories and histrionic liberal handwringing that plagued Fukunaga's first film.
Buffini's largest contribution here is in the structure, as the film begins just as the titular heroine (Mia Wasikowska) escapes from her room at the Thornfield estate and finds herself in the company of kind strangers, namely St. John Rivers (Jamie Bell) and his two sisters. The story of how Jane was cast out by her heartless aunt (the invaluable Sally Hawkins) and went on to survive years of cruelty masked as discipline and the death of her best friend at a school run by a dictatorial clergyman (Simon McBurney) then snake its way in, until Jane's first days at Thornfield, where she meets the volcanic Rochester, played here by the brilliant Michael Fassbender in a ravenous performance.
Jane's years at Thornfield take up the greatest portion of the narrative. That allows Fukunaga, once again working with the talented cinematographer Adriano Goldman, to detail the alternatingly lush and bleak estate and the neighboring landscapes, not to mention the simple but breathtaking costume design courtesy of Michael O'Connor and Will Hughes-Jones's immaculate production design. So, as we witness Jane's growing affinity for her French pupil (Romy Settbon Moore), Thornfield's housekeeper (Judi Dench, a welcome addition as always) and, indeed, Mr. Rochester, we are also privy to the changing of the seasons, the glorious pallette of bright and dark colors that Fukanaga masterfully disperses within his frame, and the light curving around the gardens of the estate and the neighboring grand hills. But Fukunaga also employs great bleak space when trying to convey Jane's protective, almost comforting isolation.
That being said, there are more than a few facets of the production that scream of overcompensation on the director's part. Even before we gaze upon the madness of Rochester's first wife, we hear her and sense her in ghostly scenes that seem out of place, for no bigger reason than they are earnestly crafted to deliver cheap, insincere suspense. There's also the matter of Dario Marionelli's score, which overwhelms the scenery and the performers in several crucial moments, spoiling the subtle emotional charge the images speak to in the characters.
Whenever these failings are in danger of ruining the fluidity of the story, however, the cast seems to come more into focus and remains unwaveringly riveting. Fassbender is as stunning as ever, adding a lethal aggression and sexuality to Rochester, a character measured in sarcastic wit, knowledge, and silence in Hurt's earlier interpretation. As for Wasikowska, so funny and charming in The Kids Are All Right, she gives another wonderful, though wholly different, performance as Jane, sporting rhythmic delivery and simple, precise physicality. Their supporting cast matches the passionate lead turns, an essential ingredient in preparing period costume dramas as well-tread and dependent on manners as Jane Eyre or any popular Austen novel. But in the case of this latest incarnation, a rare balance has been struck between the dramatic choices and structure that delineate adaptations of Brontë's work, and the gentle, unique style of the director's vision.
As it turns out, however, Fukunaga's take on Brontë's gloomy vision of class, religious austerity, and the most closely guarded chambers of the heart needs no contrasting or comparisons to earn its rightful praise. A huge step forward from the director's middling, beautifully shot border-crossing debut, Sin Nombre, Jane Eyre puts far more stress on Fukunaga's exquisite sense of composition and working relationship with actors. It also thankfully sees him working from a script by Ms. Buffini, who did solid work adapting Tamara Drewe for Stephen Frears, which helps skim away many of the heavy-handed allegories and histrionic liberal handwringing that plagued Fukunaga's first film.
Buffini's largest contribution here is in the structure, as the film begins just as the titular heroine (Mia Wasikowska) escapes from her room at the Thornfield estate and finds herself in the company of kind strangers, namely St. John Rivers (Jamie Bell) and his two sisters. The story of how Jane was cast out by her heartless aunt (the invaluable Sally Hawkins) and went on to survive years of cruelty masked as discipline and the death of her best friend at a school run by a dictatorial clergyman (Simon McBurney) then snake its way in, until Jane's first days at Thornfield, where she meets the volcanic Rochester, played here by the brilliant Michael Fassbender in a ravenous performance.
Jane's years at Thornfield take up the greatest portion of the narrative. That allows Fukunaga, once again working with the talented cinematographer Adriano Goldman, to detail the alternatingly lush and bleak estate and the neighboring landscapes, not to mention the simple but breathtaking costume design courtesy of Michael O'Connor and Will Hughes-Jones's immaculate production design. So, as we witness Jane's growing affinity for her French pupil (Romy Settbon Moore), Thornfield's housekeeper (Judi Dench, a welcome addition as always) and, indeed, Mr. Rochester, we are also privy to the changing of the seasons, the glorious pallette of bright and dark colors that Fukanaga masterfully disperses within his frame, and the light curving around the gardens of the estate and the neighboring grand hills. But Fukunaga also employs great bleak space when trying to convey Jane's protective, almost comforting isolation.
That being said, there are more than a few facets of the production that scream of overcompensation on the director's part. Even before we gaze upon the madness of Rochester's first wife, we hear her and sense her in ghostly scenes that seem out of place, for no bigger reason than they are earnestly crafted to deliver cheap, insincere suspense. There's also the matter of Dario Marionelli's score, which overwhelms the scenery and the performers in several crucial moments, spoiling the subtle emotional charge the images speak to in the characters.
Whenever these failings are in danger of ruining the fluidity of the story, however, the cast seems to come more into focus and remains unwaveringly riveting. Fassbender is as stunning as ever, adding a lethal aggression and sexuality to Rochester, a character measured in sarcastic wit, knowledge, and silence in Hurt's earlier interpretation. As for Wasikowska, so funny and charming in The Kids Are All Right, she gives another wonderful, though wholly different, performance as Jane, sporting rhythmic delivery and simple, precise physicality. Their supporting cast matches the passionate lead turns, an essential ingredient in preparing period costume dramas as well-tread and dependent on manners as Jane Eyre or any popular Austen novel. But in the case of this latest incarnation, a rare balance has been struck between the dramatic choices and structure that delineate adaptations of Brontë's work, and the gentle, unique style of the director's vision.
