Feminist Film Series, Part 1: Jane Eyre (2011)

Film: Jane Eyre
Director: Cary Fukunaga
Running Time: 120 minutes
Copy: Netflix
Watched: May 14
Spoilers: Minimal--I mostly discuss the construction of the story, not the plot itself

Two admissions before I embark on this review: I haven't read Jane Eyre since high school (somehow I doubt The Eyre Affair counts as a proper reread), and I have never found Rochester particularly attractive. The latter is particularly important because my reluctance to swoon over Rochester means I am incredibly skeptical of this love story.

My first review of this film was a text to my best friend. I will quote it, only because it will save time:

It's odd, but utterly watchable. They tell the story out of order, which is jarring, but fairly effective. They cut a dramatic amount of the story, but that's to be expected. Excellent costuming, good casting, and beautiful scenery. As a book adaptation, no more than 5/10. As a standalone film, more like 7.5/10

 Mia Wasikowska as Jane is perhaps the finest casting I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Her ability to simply stare at Rochester is phenomenal. She is the only actress that I've ever seen who can actually convey something with a blank stare. The make-up artists also make her exceptionally plain-looking, which I respected and enjoyed. Too often film adaptations of books refuse to follow descriptions of the characters, but this one actually refused to go the "stunning beautiful" route, and in so doing, made an exceptional Jane. I deeply appreciate the Jane of this film, even if I don't necessarily appreciate the entire film.

Michael Fassbender as Rochester is a little less believable. I never for a moment fear that this particular Rochester would lose control; his temper was never quite convincing and he seems far too smart to have been trapped in a loveless marriage. (The depiction of Bertha was equally dissatisfying, for a variety of reasons. She is hardly in the film, except as a phantom noise, and the one scene that does include her is fairly overwrought and cliche. I think, perhaps, I am influenced here by Wide Sargasso Sea, which drastically changed how I conceive of Bertha.) Fassbender is, naturally, utterly British throughout the film, but he doesn't have an edge. The role requires darkness, which Fassbender doesn't quite have. (Even his android in Prometheus lacked a certain element of threat. David seemed petulant and whiny, not sinister.) I think an actor like Idris Elba or Benedict Cumberbatch (or even Daniel Craig, if we wanted to go a little older) would have worked better. That low-level, seething rage would do more to capture Rochester than any shouted speech.

Finally, I thought Judi Dench was woefully under-utilized. Her Mrs. Fairfax was stuck on the sidelines; she was never given enough time on-screen (no doubt because people thought she might steal the show--which would not have been a problem, in my mind). Honestly, seeing her in this film made me want to watch Pride & Prejudice (2005) (perhaps because the actress who plays Georgianna was in this film as well...); there she was allowed to possess as much of the film as she could, with fantastic results. (I also think that Wasikowska is a strong enough actress to hold her own against Dench--my impression is that the filmmaker was concerned that Dench might steal the whole movie from the younger actress.)

Well, so much for the casting. I'm going to shelve the costuming--honestly it was beyond glorious and in some ways I'd recommend people watch the film just to get a crash course in exquisite 19th century clothing (especially hats!). This leaves the elephant in the room: How is this as an adaptation of a classic novel?

First off, let me acknowledge that I am in no way a snob when it comes to book adaptations. I loved The Count of Monte Cristo (2002); to say that adaptation took liberties with its source material is to indulge in almost sarcastic understatement. Persuasion (1995) remains my favorite Austen adaptation, despite its deviations. I find Romeo + Juliet (1996) deeply amusing and astonishingly true to its roots. And so on. All in all, I do not mind a retelling. I say this because I do not want you to think that I found this film a dissatisfying retelling simply because I don't like change. I have a deep respect for change, and the difference between film and page.

I can't applaud this film as an adaptation of Jane Eyre simply because it does not capture any of the themes that made the book a classic. Gone is the examination of education; gone is the complicated and unusual feminism; gone is the uncomfortableness of the ending. The film concentrates on the love story (sort of? I still didn't find Rochester's affection believable--but that might just be me), and jettisons everything else. Of course, a film can only focus on so much, but I am unhappy that the actual progressive aspects had to be the parts to go. (Hence my double rating--the film only barely captures the novel, but as a love story isn't so bad.)

Overall, I'd recommend this film to anyone who likes period pieces, especially those who liked Vanity Fair (2004). The film is beautiful and the costumes are impeccable. The love story is affecting and well-executed. (Honestly, see it for the costumes, if for no other reason.) Do not watch this expecting a thorough adaptation of the book; watch it as a separate beast entirely.

Two or Three Things I Know for Sure
Dorothy Allison
94 pages
Copy: mine (used)
Read: April 13, 2015 (for school)
Spoilers: vague details, but nothing specific

I read this book this morning, in one sitting. It was homework for my Feminist Rhetoric Pedagogy class (wow, that sounds elitist, doesn't it), and I'm very pleased it was assigned. I'll admit I've struggled with this class a bit. I'm a feminist in practice, but not so much in theory (more on that soon--I'm planning to write about my feminism in the near future). This class has, obviously, been heavy on feminist theory (and feminist rhetorical theory...). At any rate, I appreciate Allison's book, and I'm glad that I had this chance to read it.

This slim volume is not for the faint of heart. Allison details her traumas, her sex life, and her mental health, all of which is heart-wrenching. Understand that when you read this book you will encounter rape, sex, and rage. I'd be careful about recommending (or assigning) this book--this is not an easy book to read.

That being said, Allison does a glorious job. The book is expertly crafted. It loops in circles--or perhaps squiggles. We don't quite get the same scenes over and over; rather we move through time, looping between different eras in Allison's life. These loops always make sense and it was only at the very beginning, when I was still meeting people, that I was at all confused.

I think my only complaint about the book is its brevity. I finished it still wanting more. That being said, I would never want to force Allison to dwell on her life events for longer than she wants. I just wish she had taken the opportunity to talk about her mom and her aunts more--and her sisters. The inclusion of pictures definitely helps, but overall I put down the book with very little sense of the other women in Allison's life. I might understand her better, but I'm not sure I know anything substantial about the other women in her life.

I am not entirely sure who I would recommend this book too. It is intense and it is painful. It is also shockingly well-written. Certainly anyone interested in Allison ought to read it. Perhaps people who have suffered from trauma (especially sexual trauma) might find Allison's example helpful. She struggled with her experiences, which might be of help to anyone struggling with their own experiences. Honestly, I'd take this book on a case-by-case basis. I would talk to the person, explain what the book is about, and let them decide.

Over-scheduled girls are the new bored boys

The Lost Track of Time
Paige Britt
320 page
Copy: ARC, publication date: 31 March 2015
Read: not sure; probably back in January
Spoilers: A fair bit, including ones for The Phantom Tollbooth
Crossposted: Life Piled on Life, Librarything

I adored this book. Scholastic has really hit it out of the park for the 2015 (more on this in later reviews), but this one has the making of a classic. Remember The Phantom Tollbooth? Or, at any rate, hopefully you remember it? (When I finished reading this book, and gushed about it to my best friend, she informed me that she hadn't actually read Tollbooth, and if she were living near me, I would have thrown copies at her. As it was, I just mailed one)

Most of the point of Phantom Tollbooth, aside from the word-play--complete with vocabulary: that's how I learned words like dodecahedron and din and doldrum and a lots of words starting with letters other than d--and the sheer adventure of the story, was that one needs to use one's mind. It was aimed at teaching young readers that boredom is laziness and that intelligence creates the best kind of adventure. It is, in short, truly inspiring.

But in multiple re-readings over time, I came up with a few quibbles. Firstly, the main character Milo is a boy. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with being a boy. I suppose we need a few of those hanging around, and, frankly, at this point in children's literature, it is actually becoming more and more difficult to find books for intelligent boys who don't like spaceships or Greek gods. However, Tollbooth was published in 1961, and the only female characters are the Princesses of Rhyme and Reason, who have disappeared and are waiting to be rescued up in their Castle in the Air. Although I love the book, we don't need more princesses-in-need-of-rescue and, to be perfectly frank, why the fuck didn't a pair of sisters named Rhyme and Reason rescue themselves? (In more sympathetic moments, I suspect that they were taking a nice vacation and Milo's rescue was something of a nuisance). So: feminism is quibble one.

Quibble two: from what I can see, as neither child nor parent, kids don't seem to have any time to be bored. Sports, and lessons, and enforced hobbies; camps, clubs, classes; the horror that is smart phones: I don't actually think that middle class kids with well meaning parents actually have time to get bored. Getting bored is really important--as long as one doesn't get too bored, of course. Getting bored is what makes one's imagination kick into gear, it's what makes us go on adventures. No one goes on a true adventure because it would look good on a college transcript.

The Lost Track of Time addresses both of these quibbles. To be honest, my beef with Tollbooth was mostly subconscious until I came across this book. Penelope, the intrepid adventurer, suffers under a well-meaning organizational development type mother who runs her daughter's life like Penelope is another event to plan. Their various schedules--during which every fifteen minutes is accounted for--might be humorous to the target audience (8-12), but was verging on tear-jerking for me. To never have any free time! It is bad enough as an adult(ish), but for a child! Heartbreaking and all too much a part of reality.

Penelope, like Milo, escapes her predicament into an allegorical world of word-play and adventure, complete with anthropomorphized puns (my favorite was the Wild Bore), and a mythic figure to be rescued (The Great Moodler, moodling being day-dreaming). Her journey teaches the reader that schedules, just like boredom, can always go overboard.

Recommended for over-scheduled girls (if they can sneak away from their mothers to read it); for grandmothers to give to over-scheduled girls; and for anyone who has been an over-scheduled girl (warning: in that case, there could be tears.)

-Mercutia