Jane Eyre

Cary Fukunaga’s Jane Eyre is a moody, well-acted, lean motion picture adaptation of the classic novel. Charlotte Brontë’s novel has been made into a movie a number of times, starting way back in the silent era. The most recent version came in 1996 with Franco Zeffirelli’s version, a picture that starred William Hurt, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Elle Macpherson. Yes, that Elle Macpherson.

It makes sense that Jane Eyre would be popular stuff, as it is one of the finer examples of Gothic fiction. With the sort of flawed titular character that makes for interesting exploration, slices of social criticism and the necessary tale of a child coming into her own in rough circumstances, the novel was almost destined to be cinematic from the outset. So what does Fukunaga’s version add (or subtract) from the annals of Jane Eyre?

For starters, it boasts a hell of a star in the wondrous Mia Wasikowska. Employed by Edward Fairfax Rochester (Michael Fassbender) to take care of Adele (Romy Settbon Moore), she is in need of affection and love from the get-go. Yet the isolation and routine of existence under the perplexing thumb of Rochester isn’t the most ideal existence, even given the past tumult Jane went through on her way to where we find her.

What Fukunaga nails down immediately is the atmosphere. We’re given Jane running in the middle of nowhere and right away we can sense that this is going to be a bleak project. Wasikowska is perfect when it comes to drawing that sensibility out, as she can say so much with a slight expression or a coldly delivered line. She also plays immensely well off the other actors, especially the incomparable Judi Dench.

A lot of these period pieces can sink into boring territory pretty quickly, with more focus on the pageantry and finery that on the human elements. In this case, however, Fukunaga’s vision reflects the mood within the character. The bleakness comes from an inevitable source, something the flashback sequences illuminate.

At the core of the Jane Eyre novel is a sense of repression, but there is also a strong thread of femininity. The titular character is strong-willed and is able to see her way out of her predicament without the aid of a man, something rare for the time of its writing and even for the time of this flick. Fukunaga gives us this element in showing us Jane’s self-reliance, even in times where she feels like she’s meandering aimlessly, and her passion.

The sets, lighting, costumes, and so on are all up to par, as they usually are in modern period pieces. With the elements, Fukunaga offers some modernity in subtle ways. Camera angles are decidedly hip, for instance, and a dash of the ol’ shaky-cam puts in a sense of motion for the opening scenes. Every bit looks as it should.

So Jane Eyre is above the standard of most modern period pieces. It isn’t boring or slow; it produces winning performances from Wasikowska, Fassbender and Dench. It is a fine rendering of a fine book, an adaptation that adds tone and muscle to a tale that many know by heart.