This adaptation positively butchers a classic which is beloved for its subtlety. Timothy Dalton has absolutely no conception of the different nuances of Rochester's character. I get the feeling he never even read the book, just sauntered on set in his too tight breeches and was handed a character summary that read "Grumpy, broody, murky past." He plays Rochester not as a character or as a real person but as an over the top grouch who never cracks a smile until after he gets engaged at which point he miraculously morphs into a pansy. There is no chemistry. The only feeling that this adaptation excited in me was incredulity and also sympathy for Charlotte Bronte who is most definitely turning in her grave. GO AND REREAD THE BOOK. ROCHESTER HAS A PERSONALITY. AND BY THE WAY: A "PASSIONATE" LOVE SCENE DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE TO EAT HER FACE.
Review of Jane Eyre
