The Sacred Air of Jane Eyre

I can't go on for too long, because I've got to get into bed, but I was desperate to tell you about the movie I went to tonight, so I'll cram it in as artistically as possible. 

Mum and I have had a pact to go and see Jane Eyre together almost as soon as we knew it was coming out.  I read the book only once, perhaps two years ago, but Charlotte Bronte, like her sister, is one of those truly marvelous, awe-striking writers, and I was excited about the idea of an adaption.

Now I never have very high expectations for film adaptations, with a few exceptions like The Hobbit, but for some reason, I had quite low expectations for this one.  There is something so pristine and wonderful about Charlotte Bronte that it seemed physically impossible for Hollywood to reach anything like a respectful portrayal of her story.  But oh gosh!  Was I wrong!  I've never been happier to be wrong! 

I am pleased to proclaim that Jane Eyre was very possibly the best novel to film adaptation I have seen.  And by far the most accurate.  I don't believe there was as much as a line in the film that wasn't in the book.  Nothing added, nothing omitted.  It was sacredly respected and exalted in a stunningly beautiful manner. 

It was daring.  Everything about the story and the era is daring.  It has a completely seperate playing field of its own to waltz on, but it had the power of silence and darkness to wield, and how it brandished its powers!  The silences, and the ethereal atmospheric mistiness of dawn and the ice blue flutter of lace curtains and the intense suspense of dark corridors.  It was everything I loved in the book made whimsically alive.  It was the sort of film that you live and breath every moment of, even if you are not aware of doing so at the time. 

You know how it ends, don't you?  Well.  What a great ending.  I thought I was going to keep from crying.  But then Mum was crying.  And so then we were walking out to the carpark positively sobbing.  And then we were driving home, sobbing and laughing and exclaiming.  That was beautiful, and what a beautiful thing to share with my mum.