Why the National Theatre's Jane Eyre May Be the Best Adaptation: A Review

I’ve seen or heard perhaps every available Jane Eyre adaptation there is. The selection isn’t limited to TV and film interpretations; I’ve listened to podcast and radio dramas, watched the Broadway musical and nearly memorized the accompanying soundtrack, and even seen American Ballet Theatre’s Misty Copeland and Cory Stearns dance Jane and Rochester in Cathy Marston’s 2019 ballet. Jane Eyre has been acted, spoken, sung, and danced more than any text. Just when I think I’ve seen it all, I’m struck anew by the way different media can move an audience and breath new life into the source material.

Devised by Sally Cookson (alongside the actors themselves), National Theatre’s Jane Eyre does it all at once.

The play is sung. It’s not a musical by any means, but the gorgeous live score holds the narrative together in addition to defining an essential but forgotten character: Bertha Mason. Instead of speaking, Bertha travels through the story singing haunting tunes lifted directly from the book (“my love has sworn with sealing kiss/for me to live, to die”) and from modern music (including “Mad About the Boy” and Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy”). The character, played by superb vocalist Melanie Marshall, is accompanied by a band that sits directly on stage without distracting the audience. Music gives voice to Bertha and paces the production, providing meaningful transitions and weaving scenes together.

The adaptation is also danced—or rather, choreographed. Bodies move across the set with intention. Characters’ positions on stage are always purposeful, aided by a sparse but meaning-laden jungle gym of a set that doubles as inside and outside. Without the choreography nothing about the set resembles a charity school or an English manor house, but with and through it the audience is enlisted in the imaginative process of constructing the environments the structure evokes. It works so well that a set made of nothing but ladders, ramps, and wooden beams feels quite material. Even though no space is ever one “place” from the novel, any viewer familiar with the book always has a sense of where the characters are.

This mesh of music and choreographed movement is not just a highbrow artistic addition to the story; it serves the purpose of showing without telling. The audience observes through sound and movement what Jane would normally say directly (and wordily) in the book’s first-person narrative. The play’s transitions provide essential information: from a distance, Rochester curiously watches Jane pace the gardens. The characters rearrange themselves and all of a sudden Jane is the one spying as Rochester sits in pensively and shares a tender moment with his dog. In a span of a minute, the audience learns at least three things: that Jane is restless beneath her modest veneer, that Rochester is a wounded man, and that they’re both captivated by the other. In the novel, these facts are revealed through dense narration; here, those parts of the book are captured in transition. The National Theatre adaptation also plays with perspective. Sometimes the audience sits with Jane in what feels like the first-person perspective as the small ensemble of actors doubles as her inner voice—a choice that adds at first to the humor and later to dramatic tension. At other times, the choreography and lighting (and, if you’re watching online, the camerawork) draw the viewer to Rochester. Since I watched the play via the National Theatre’s streaming service, I can’t speak to whether a live audience might feel overwhelmed by the whole thing, but from home I appreciated the way Cookson balances several moving parts to get at the emotional core of the story.

And finally, of course, the play is acted. I wasn’t prepared to like Madeleine Worrell as Jane or Felix Hayes as Rochester, but I was happily converted. Worrell’s Jane isn’t cool, calm, and collected like other portrayals that have graced the film and TV screen. She plays the character with a physicality befitting the stage, making clear that Jane’s emotions are always boiling just beneath the surface, or close to brimming over. Jane’s declaration during the proposal scene is explosive, with Jane and Rochester duking it out in high volume. If you prefer the more subdued approaches of Zelah Clarke or Sorcha Cusack, this adaptation—especially the proposal—isn’t for you, but the play leans into the idea of Jane and Rochester as sparring partners. Felix Hayes as a disheveled Rochester is equal parts gloomy, funny, incisive, and passionate. While his bass voice lends itself to the character’s high station and big personality, his eyes often express Rochester’s softness. The recording allows us to see the actors’ expressions up close in a way live stage would not, revealing the subtleties of Hayes’s performance.

The play isn’t without its flaws, and its reception among Jane Eyre purists depends on the viewer’s willingness to embrace Cook’s minimalism and her innovations in producing the story for the stage. Interesting artistic choices include the use of the small ensemble cast. With the exception of Worrell, everyone plays more than one supporting character, signaled through minor wardrobe changes. Figures like St. John, Mr. Brocklehurst, and Mrs. Fairfax get short shrift as a result. In a two-hour adaptation, Cookson’s choice to merely sketch the supporting force beyond Jane and Rochester is less about abbreviation and more an interpretive strategy. This production is about one person: Jane Eyre. It is, in Cookson’s words, a “life story” that emphasizes Jane’s relationship to herself (and arguably the mad woman in the attic, whose imbrication with Jane the play accentuates). If the play feels stripped down and informal, it’s because it is. But it’s also a case study in striking that delicate balance between modernization and keeping the “spirit” of the original. Cookson manages to stay faithful to the source material and accentuate its core themes while bypassing much of the novel’s wordiness and victorian dressing. Dialogue from the book is truncated to reveal Jane’s bite, Rochester’s abruptness, and Brontë’s humor. And Cookson has a thoughtful eye for visual symbolism (pay attention to the elevation changes in the proposal scene!).

On paper, National Theatre’s Jane Eyre sounds a bit crazy. Supporting actors playing three characters? Gnarls Barkley playing at Thornfield? A human portraying Pilot the dog? It should be a recipe for disaster. But this production not only works; it offers what might be the most complete adaptation of the novel I’ve encountered so far.

This is the part where Jane Eyre enthusiasts pause skeptically. I’ve already said in previous posts that there is no “definitive” Jane Eyre out there in the world (at least not in my opinion). It’s quite a statement to name a stage play the “best” adaptation of the novel, especially given how difficult it is to compare with big budget, full-length TV and film adaptations. But taken in balance, National Theatre’s Jane Eyre is the most satisfying in its context—which is theater. As a director, Cookson makes the right decisions with everything at her disposal, and her leads execute her vision. Jane Eyre pulls artfully from the well of source material, reminding the viewer that the well is indeed still full and fresh. Cookson’s conceptualization is provoking, and during the book’s core scenes she calls in music, choreography, and good acting to move the viewer and draw them into the world of the narrative. Did it have everything? Perhaps. But National Theatre’s Jane Eyre had everything it needed.

Netflix Persuasion (2022) Trailer Review

It’s far past time for an adaptation of Persuasion. Of all the works in the Austen canon, her final work makes the most sense to adapt due to its enduring relatability.

In the age of Bridgerton, and “making regency sexy again” the taste for old-yet-modern period dramas has increased. As usual, the age old question for ardent literature loyalists is: How modern is “too” modern, and and does too much modernization defeat the purpose? (I should add here that one of the debates about modernity and faithfulness I’m not interested in entertaining is gripes about the cast’s racial diversity. While I recognize that such castings are not historically accurate, I don’t identify with the desire to preserve period dramas as an all-white space masked as fidelity.)

Netflix forayed into the heated debate around “modern twists” last year with its adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca (with mixed results). Now the streaming platform is back again with a much-anticipated rendering of Persuasion that has already elicited strong opinions from enthusiasts.

Here are five first observations about the newly released trailer for Netflix’s Persuasion:

Persuasion’s first full length trailer

1. Like other more recent Austen adaptations (Emma 2020, Love & Friendship 2016), Persuasion leans into comedy.

And I like that. Many Austen adaptations, including the last two goes at Persuasion in ‘95 and ‘07, forget that the author was a master of comedic irony. Netflix’s upcoming adaptation will attempt to remedy this. Whereas earlier Persuasion adaptations rendered Anne Elliot’s family purely insufferable, this interpretation seems to revive them as the comic characters they are meant to be. This bodes well for adaptation’s overall engagingness. For once we may actually be able to enjoy the characters and events around Anne and Wentworth instead of just waiting to fast forward to their longing glances at each other. Speaking of longing glances…

2. This adaptation has more talking and less longing.

Part of the reason Persuasion and its adaptations aren’t more popular (from the average viewer’s perspective) is that there isn’t much verbal communication between its love interests. Persuasion is the definition of slow burn; it runs on quiet glances and anticipation. But more than being “slow burn,” Persuasion is private and internal. Though written in third-person, it is an intimate examination of Anne’s interior struggle with regret, uncertainty, and self-(re)discovery. Based on the trailer, the newest adaptation externalizes and vocalizes more of the story through (1) a shift to first-person narration/fourth-wall breaking, and (2) increased dialogue between Anne and Wentworth. Not only do the characters process the pain of their former relationship together aloud; they have a friendship. In the trailer, Anne explicitly refers to them as “friends” and “exes,” whereas the book describes them “strangers” and “worse than strangers.” This is sure to be a controversial decision by the filmmakers. Purists have already noted with frustration how anachronistic a term “ex” is, but potentially more disconcerting is the way externalization might affect fidelity to the characters and the tension between them.

3. That being said, Cosmo Jarvis provides more than enough longing stares.

I’m not familiar with Jarvis and was unsure about his casting as Wentworth when it was first announced. The trailer and teasers give me reason to be optimistic about his performance, though. He has sad and expressive eyes that suit him to the role. The question, for me, is whether he will be able to strike the balance between the script’s expressiveness and Wentworth’s Austenian restraint. This Wentworth may have more lines to work with, but one of Wentworth’s key qualities in the novel is his ability to speak volumes without speaking. His reserve has a deeper meaning.

The trailer gives us a glimpse at an exchange between Anne and Wentworth that isn’t in the book. Presumably talking about the demise of their relationship, Anne says, “I don’t want you to be angry.” Wentworth responds, “What would you want me to be?” The question isn’t spoken angrily, but rather with genuine confusion. If Jarvis does the role well, that dialogue and his performance could potentially provide new and rewarding insight into the character. What if Wentworth’s restraint—both in the book and, hopefully, in the film—isn’t only due to resentment? What if he guards himself because he does not know what to “be” with Anne given their history? Friendly? Aloof? Emotional? How should he act? In addition to being the norm of the time, Wentworth’s reserve is motivated by a deep disorientation. Can Jarvis highlight this?

4. This Anne Elliot has a personality, but is it the right one?

My biggest gripe with preceding Persuasion adaptations is that Anne is boring in all of them. (Yes, I said it.) I know that the point of Anne’s character is to model quiet strength, but previous actresses over-attended to the “quiet” part of that phrase and under-attended to the “strength.” Sally Hawkins’ Anne (‘07) never appeared to be anything but timid and out of breath. Amanda Root was better, but still lacking in personality. In my opinion, both adaptations mistook being reserved, responsible, and persuadable with being silent and shrinking. It’s easy to make this mistake since, after all, everyone in the book does the same. They assume that Anne lacks will even though she has a deep well of intelligence, perceptiveness, and strength. As one Youtube comment noted, Anne embodies the saying that “still waters run deep.”

Netflix’s rendering of Anne certainly has a personality, but Dakota Johnson may have the opposite problem. Though she narrates that her family persuaded her to give Wentworth up, it’s hard to believe that Johnson’s Anne is persuadable. Her Anne appears to be confident, humorous, and flirtatious—qualities that Austen’s Anne either lacked or at the very least displayed in different ways. Johnson’s Anne may be the victim of a rewrite that seeks to restore Anne’s personality and agency at the expense of fidelity. In doing so, the film could fall prey to the assumption that Austen’s Anne lacked agency as she was written.

5. Netflix’s Persuasion may lack fidelity in the ways that matter.

I’m willing to give adaptations a long rope and the benefit of the doubt. After all, adaptation is interpretation. It’s exegesis and eisegesis. I’m happy to stomach changes, additions, and departures as long as they are in service to the essence of the text and its characters. The best creative and controversial adaptation decisions may make me look at the text differently, but they are still firmly based in the text. The Persuasion trailer strongly hints that the adaptation leaves the text completely behind in critical areas. If Austen poignantly grieves that Anne and Wentworth are strangers, why attempt to make them friends? What’s the point of using the term “exes” other than being modern for modernity’s sake? Why is Anne’s hair down for half the trailer and what’s going on with these costumes? How are any of these alterations serving the story and characters Austen wrote?

Modern adaptations can breathe new life into books without rewriting them. Whether Netflix will achieve that balance with Persuasion is doubtful.

You can find shorter teasers for Persuasion here. The movie will be available July 15.

Ranking Rochesters: Best Rochesters in Jane Eyre Adaptations

Many things have changed since I started writing in Blogspot years ago, but my love for Rochester always remains the same. That’s why I couldn't wait even a week to publish this post after just having finished ranking the Jane Eyre adaptations. One thing that has changed, however, is the technology at my disposal—namely the innovation of the gif. Gifs have become one of the best fandom tools, and in cooking them up for this blog post I can easily see why. It was fun to highlight small, sometimes underrated, nuances from different performances. Below are my rankings of the best and worst portrayals of Jane Eyre's Edward Rochester, complete with gifs of some of my favorite moments from each. 

18. Colin Clive, Jane Eyre 1934

"You are a strange little thing, aren't you? But charming." 

The poor 1934 adaptation is doomed to bring up the rear in nearly every ranking. Clive just isn't Rochester, partly because he wasn't written to be him and partly because he doesn't attempt to behave like him. The above gif was hilarious, but endearing.

17. Patrick Macnee, Jane Eyre 1957 

Awkward.

Rochester may be many things—over-sentimental, mysterious, even manipulative—but he isn't a lusty drunk. Macnee plays Rochester so badly that you wish Jane had sexual harassment charges at her disposal. His portrayal is as uncomfortable as it is unfaithful.

16. Kevin McCarthy, Jane Eyre 1952

                                                                  "As we are!"

The 1952 might have been a decent American TV adaptation had McCarthy even slightly represented the Rochester from the text. McCarthy's Rochester is far from the gloomy, haunted, and sardonic character we expect to see. In fact, he's charming, approachable, and nice from the beginning. He's the most optimistic and exuberant Rochester, as seen above. Is McCarthy even in character?

15. Charlton Heston, Jane Eyre 1949 

                                                         "Goodnight, Miss Eyre." 

Pros: Despite all the pitfalls and low production values of this adaptation, Charlton Heston at least seems familiar with the source material. Heston was the first actor in the Rochester timeline to give an honest attempt at accuracy. His Rochester is abrupt, arrogant, and wholly unconcerned with manners in his first conversation with Jane. The 1949 Rochester cares nothing for propriety. He pursues what captures his interest, and that is coaxing a meek (in this adaptation, at least) Jane Eyre out of her shell. 

Cons: None of the characters in this American TV adaptation even try for a British accent. The writing also wasn't faithful enough to make for an accurate Rochester. Cheesy TV lines and melodramatic breakneck kisses abound, making it difficult to find anything redeemable in Heston’s performance.

14. Rob de Vries, Jane Eyre 1958 (Dutch)

Pros and Cons: I’ve only recently watched this adaptation of Jane Eyre, so this ranking is fresh. When de Vries first appears, he is almost reminiscent of George C. Scott. He fits the age and, to a limited extent, the physical description of Rochester, but his take on the character is a sedate one. Like his European, British, and American counterparts who took on the role of Rochester in the 1950s, he never appears at home in the character. In general, I think Rochesters from that period of television suffered from the constraints of in-studio filming. Since the viewer never sees Rochester outdoors or in any kind of meaningful motion, he’s rendered a static character trapped in a drawing room. De Vries’s portrayal felt particularly contained.

13. Raf Vallone, Jane Eyre 1957 (Italian)

Pros: Raf Vallone works with an unorthodox script to deliver a passionate performance. The intensity alone is enough to make the viewer swoon despite the adaptation’s sweeping changes to the source material. Vallone gets right to the heart of the matter: Rochester is besotted with Jane from the beginning and can’t live without her by the end.

Cons: I don’t know how “gothic” you can call Vallone’s interpretation. His Rochester is beloved by Adele and the staff at Thornfield, who all seem to know his secret and yet root for him to be with Jane anyway. Even his chemistry with Jane doesn’t atone for the fact that there’s something generic about the portrayal. His performance is closer to a stock romantic hero than it is to the flawed character in Brontë’s text.

12. Zachary Scott, Jane Eyre 1961

Pros (and mostly Cons): There’s not much to like in this thoroughly Americanized TV portrayal. Oddly enough, that may be the best thing about Zachary Scott’s performance. He’s neither attractive or likable on screen, but at least there’s something of the ‘real’ Rochester in that. With very little of the text preserved in the script, Scott takes liberties to produce a stubborn, argumentative Rochester who is convinced of the righteousness of his attempted unlawful union with Jane even after tragedy befalls him. This Rochester is also stressed as he tries to keep multiple plates spinning, which adds a kind of humorous insight into just how full the character’s hands are in the novel. Rochester is hosting guests, dealing with Mason’s unannounced visits to “borrow against Bertha’s marriage settlement,” managing a troubling employee in Grace Poole, and trying to ensure that his wife doesn’t burn the house down—all while falling in love with his employee. Deceit is certainly exhausting. No wonder he desires some peace and quiet!

11. Stanley Baker, Jane Eyre 1956 (BBC)

Pros (and mostly Cons): Baker’s Rochester benefits from a more accurate script (courtesy of Constance Cox) than the 1961 American adaptation, but there’s nothing remarkable about his portrayal. It’s Daphne Slater who makes the 1956 adaptation worth watching, and who does much to redeem Baker’s lukewarm performance. This Rochester is thoroughly a product of Baker’s time. There’s something about him that screams “moody 1950s husband” and keeps him from finding the character. Most importantly, he lacks chemistry with Slater, who arguably deserves a better counterpart though Baker was the TV veteran at the time.

10. George C. Scott, Jane Eyre 1970 

View fullsize

                                                       "What the devil do you think you're doing..."

Positive: Despite this adaptation’s low ranking, Scott’s Rochester is one my favorites. Scott brings his signature surliness to the part, and he does the character’s early gloom and remorse well, but his Rochester undergoes a steady evolution as the film progresses. By his proposal, the 1970 Rochester has developed a genuine, tender friendship with (and love for) York’s mature Jane Eyre. This interpretation of the character’s transformation over time makes Scott's pivotal scene all the more moving. During Jane’s departure, Scott’s Rochester unsuccessfully attempts to retreat back to his earlier self. After trying to persuade Jane to stay with him, he dares her to leave. But when she starts to exit the room, he can’t bear it; he begs her to wait. It’s as if Rochester realizes he can’t return to his prior state of fierce independence and casual cruelty. On the heels of Patton, Scott’s tenderness is a welcome surprise. His portrayal may not jump out of the list of Rochesters, and it’s certainly not loaded with erotic passion, but it is touching. And though he’s certainly older than Rochester is in the book, there are aspects of Scott’s general look that resemble the grim mouth and square brow that Brontë describes.

Negative: I concur with those who argue that Scott was one of the most underrated American actors of his time, but it’s hard to detect the genius of Dr. Strangelove, The Hustler, or Patton in Scott’s performance here. The qualities that made Scott a great actor—his physicality, his talent for manipulating speech to bring out the best in a script, his ability to convey a range of thoughts in one expression—could have made for a cutting edge, if maybe too American, portrayal of Rochester. But Scott never really owns or takes risks with the character. His performance gets lost in the shuffle of Rochesters because he plays the character too safe to make the lasting impact he did in other roles.

9. William Hurt, Jane Eyre 1996 

                                                                                 "At least--shake hands." 

Positive: I used to dislike Hurt’s turn as Rochester, but recent viewings have allowed me to appreciate the nuances of his acting. Hurt's take on the character reminds viewers of one important thing: Rochester is lonely. He plays Rochester as someone learning to connect intimately with another person. Sometimes it is a halting, even awkward, process. Both Hurt and Gainsbourg’s portrayals are 'otherworldly' in the sense that the characters have become accustomed to living with their own thoughts. Hurts translates Rochester less through expression and more through embodiment. Physically, Rochester appears almost bent over with the cares of the world. He moves and speaks as if the past is bearing down on him at every moment. But with Jane we sees Rochester slowly, quietly unburden himself, and we feel the relief it gives him. By the time Hurt's lays his face against Gainsbourg's during the proposal, it isn't the explosive moment that many readers might imagine, or that other actors choose to portray. Rather, it’s a sigh of relief: Jane and Rochester finally allow themselves to connect—to embrace and be embraced—after years of isolation.

Negative: I love William Hurt as an actor, so it was disappointing to be underwhelmed by his performance. At its best, and with the right interpretive eye, Hurt's performance is the 'positive' above. At its worst, it's too sedate and one-dimensional to be truly faithful. Hurt—and the 1996 adaptation as a whole—does a great job of portraying the nuances of loneliness and connection, but he doesn't get at the more obvious facets of Rochester—his passion, capriciousness, and even charm—that Brontë more overtly describes in the book. Hurts devotes so much attention to Rochester’s gloom that he misses so much else. Hurt also doesn't fit the billing of the decisive, broad shouldered man with dark, expressive eyes. 

8. Ciaran Hinds, Jane Eyre 1997

                                                                                  "Jane. Look at me." 

Positive: Viewers could never accuse Hinds of being too sedate. Hinds is committed to portraying a fierce and flawed Rochester that places character’s “state of proud independence” that “disdain[s] every part but that of the giver and protector” on full display. Whereas Scott and Hurt take Rochester’s ruthlessness, vulnerability, and remorse in equal measure, Hinds doesn’t reward the viewer with much of the latter qualities. His Rochester is heedlessly determined to defy the constraints of religion and law to have Jane, and when caught in the lie to secure her, he even defends the righteousness of his cause. For better or for worse (a problem addressed below), arguably no actor captures Rochester’s self-described “stiff-necked rebellion” as overtly as Hinds does. But somehow the emotional payoff is well worth it in the final scene when, physically maimed and unable to give Jane any of the things he formerly valued as expressions of love, all Rochester can do is cry in her arms. Hinds's Rochester spends a lot of time scowling, arguing, and waging war with the world, but he also finds some solace in Jane.

Negative: I'm not entirely sure whether I should have ranked Hinds ahead of Hurt. It's difficult to compare the two because their portrayals have opposite shortcomings. If Hurt isn’t expressive enough, Hinds's Rochester at his worst is a loose cannon and, quit frankly, a jerk. Hinds often pushes Rochester’s heedlessness to the point of aggression. In a few scenes, this approach doesn’t work well because breaks the viewer’s sympathy with the character. In the scene following the failed wedding, for example, Hinds’s Rochester doesn’t exhibit the remorse expressed by Rochester in the text. Instead, in a failure of both writing and acting, he blames Jane for leaving and screams at her until makes it to the carriage. If it weren’t for Samantha Morton’s Jane creditably stands toe to toe with him, we would just call him domineering.

7. Richard Leech, Jane Eyre 1963

Pros: It’s unfair to rank a Rochester based on potential when most of his scenes are irrecoverable. But what I have seen of Richard Leech in this adaptation gives me reason to suspect that he might have offered one of the strongest interpretations of the role. Physically, Leech has all the makings of a textbook Rochester. And in the few scenes available to us, he draws on a faithful script to show us that he is more than just a typecasting. When the viewer first encounters him presenting Jane with lavish gifts, Leech’s Rochester is proud (bordering on haughty) and fiery (or perhaps quick-tempered)…but also clearly “influenced” and “conquered” by Bell’s Jane. There is nothing reserved about Leech’s portrayal; that Rochester desperately loves and needs Jane is evident. Though Leech overacts at points, he also skillfully plays with the volume and tone of his voice to portray convey his fondness for Jane. Alongside his moody outbursts, there is a softness he reserves only for her that tugs at the viewer’s heart, as if Bell’s Jane has the power to soothe him.

Cons: Unless you’re one of the lucky people who saw this version air in 1963, we may never know if Leech gave us a complete Rochester. Two crucial episodes of the six-part miniseries—the episodes that happen to span from Rochester falling off his horse to the his proposal to Jane—are lost, leaving us with only the post-proposal scenes. Younger fans of Jane Eyre can only wonder what Richard Leech’s full performance might have been, and hope that the missing episodes are somewhere in the world to be recovered one day. If adapted and acted faithfully, this could be one of the better adaptations.

6. Jan Kacer, Jane Eyre 1972 (Czech)

Pros: Despite the language barrier, I found this 1972 adaptation of Jane Eyre very satisfying thanks in large part to Jan Kacer’s impressive performance. Though not ‘handsome’ in the typical sense, this earthy, bearded Rochester is certainly enjoyable to look at. As I mentioned in a prior review, Kacer’s chemistry with his counterpart is so palpable that the viewer almost forgets that Rochester never kisses Jane directly on the lips in this adaptation. His physicality isn’t the only basis of Kacer’s appeal, though. There’s a kind of “less is more” to his acting that makes for an understated and yet intimate portrayal of the character. Like all Rochesters, Kacer is gloomy and brooding. Unlike other Rochesters, though, he appears more accountable for his past and present actions. Whereas other Rochesters seem all too comfortable with lying to Jane until they’re exposed, Kacer’s Rochester is ashamed of his prior decision-making and genuinely conflicted about deceiving Jane as their relationship develops. (I always prefer a slightly more self-loathing Rochester to interpretations that view him as the pure victim of others’ wrongs.) Kacer’s portrayal isn’t defining, but it’s endearing.

Cons: Even with translations, viewing a film in another language through the lens of a different culture makes it difficult to judge the quality of the performances in their own context. Kacer may be received differently by a Czech audience. Kacer’s Rochester is more soft and brooding than mercurial and eccentric. His age, good looks, and toned down performance may not appeal to purists even though the adaptation is faithfully written. But to the untrained eye of this American Eyrehead, this is still a great performance.

5. Orson Welles, Jane Eyre 1943

"I was to be aided, and by that hand: and aided I was. And then later that evening--do you remember Jane? Say you remember."                   

Positive: Orson Welles is arguably the most underrated Rochester. Not only does he possess the basic Rochester ‘specs’ (dark, sparkling eyes, stormy brow, features far from conventionally handsome); Welles speaks and moves with that vigor, informality, and self-importance Brontë ascribes to Rochester. While parts of his performance (the proposal scene in particular) have the usual overwrought style of any 40s film, it works for the character and the gothic tone of the adaptation as a whole. Amidst the film’s crashing scores and moody mise en scène, Welles offers magnetism, intensity, and even gentleness. Whereas most Rochesters live and die by the dramatic proposal scene or (imo) Jane’s return to Thornfield, Welles’s best work takes place in the quieter scenes such as their second conversation, the moment when Rochester catches Jane crying in the hallway, or—in this version—Jane’s surprisingly subdued departure. Like Leech, but to a more masterful degree, Welles has a knack for manipulating the timbre of his iconic bass voice. But his ability to soften his eyes is even more captivating (see above), especially taken alongside the power and broodiness he expresses with just a beat. Welles shifts seamlessly from glowering to tender. Despite the misogyny of his receiving top billing over Joan Fontaine, who played the titular character, his place at the head of the cast was well justified. Welles, not Fontaine, makes this an adaptation that still captivates viewers after so many decades.

Negative: It is a 40s Hollywood film, and Welles is Welles, meaning there is a clear dose of proto-film noir melodrama in his performance that likely won't sit well with viewers looking for a more modern interpretation of the source material. Due to its cinematic context and the constraints of the genre, Welles' portrayal of Rochester might strike younger viewers as outdated or lacking romance. And even I, despite all my love for vintage film, would agree. The dark melodrama of the proposal, which Welles re-dubbed later, falls flat to me, and the film’s abbreviated ending also does him a disservice. Welles did something great within his context, but he is not a Rochester that defines the character for all time.

4. Toby Stephens, Jane Eyre 2006

                                                                        "Then I will say: don't go, Jane." 

Positive: Finally, a Rochester viewers could believe flew through Europe bedding mistresses left and right! Stephens brings a sexiness and sensuality to the role of Rochester that no other actor does, and it's refreshing. It isn’t just that Stephens is gorgeous (though still not conventionally handsome) even with his muttonchops and extensions; he also strategically portrays the character's physicality and charisma through his speech and movement. In an interview on the set of the show, Stephens spoke at length about Rochester's (and Jane's) sexuality and how it influences the intimacy between the characters. His attention to the sexual tension beneath Brontë’s writing reminds us just how ‘scandalous’ Jane Eyre was for a victorian novel, and that sex is in fact a key ingredient in the genre of Gothic novels. Among other themes, Jane Eyre explores Jane’s sensual awakening. Rochester has a sexual history and he’s willing to draw on it (“Do you mean it now? And now?”). But Stephens does more than just play up Rochester’s latent sex appeal. His Rochester also connects to Jane on a soul level (as he continually reiterates), and he genuinely relates to her as an equal and a friend. Aided by the detail and pacing of Sandy Welch’s script, Stephens convincingly conveys the depth and diversity of Rochester’s attachment to Jane. It is both flesh and soul—friendship, kinship, and something even more.

Negative: Though Stephens’s modern interpretation successfully highlights a less-emphasized aspect of the character, he doesn't fully exhibit or inhabit the more traditional facets of Rochester that readers expect. After his early conversations with Jane, Stephens's Rochester ceases to be mercurial and becomes almost too likable. In the book, there are moments where we (alongside Jane) ask ourselves, “What is Rochester doing here? What does he mean by this?? Is he serious?!” Stephens doesn't fully play to those eccentricities or to the character’s “curious, designing mind.”

3. Michael Jayston, Jane Eyre 1973 

"You have a curious, designing mind, Mr. Rochester."                                                                                 "Matched to yours, you said so." 

Positive: “Yet there was so much unconscious pride in his port; so much ease in his demeanour; such a look of complete indifference to his own external appearance; so haughty a reliance on the power of other qualities...to atone for the lack of mere personal attractiveness.” Jayston's performance embodies Brontë’s initial description of Rochester. Jayston/Rochester is not a handsome man; what you see is what you get. But there’s something about that mischievous smile, his cutting sarcasm, and his quirky confidence that makes him magnetic. Jayston's Rochester is also weird. At first, I disliked the quirkiness of Jayston’s portrayal, but now I appreciate that it’s exactly what makes him so faithful to the Rochester of the novel—he bucks tradition and propriety, speaks using enigmatic language, and dresses in drag to extort confessions from the woman he loves. What Jane Eyre fans don't care to admit is that Rochester is contradictory—even manipulative. He’d rather pretend to court someone else, dress up as a woman, and threaten to send Jane to Ireland to extract a profession of love from her than simply declare himself. And yet, he genuinely loves Jane. While other actors and adaptations shy away from that paradox, Jayston pulls it off and makes us believe it. He may not be the smoldering, romantic gothic hero we prefer to watch, but he’s true to the character we fell in love with.

Negative: As I've mentioned before, Jayston is at his best mostly pre-proposal when he gets to show off Rochester's eccentricity and mischievousness. He is good at being relaxed, odd, and flirtatious. He is not as good at being urgent and passionate. Jayston's proposal, departure, and reunion scene performances are good, and parts of them are incredibly touching, but they aren't powerful or climactic. When it's time for Rochester to progress from the puzzling and bizarre suitor to the raw, desperate, and broken lover of the latter scenes, he isn't as convincing.

2. Michael Fassbender, Jane Eyre 2011 

"I pledge you my honor, my fidelity, my love 'til death do us part."                                                                           "What of truth?" 

Positive: One of my favorite moments of Fassbender's in Jane Eyre is not one of the romantic scenes that usually define a Rochester. Instead, it’s the scene where he sits gloomily at the piano playing an augmented fourth. Mrs. Fairfax comes forward with his tea and he responds with a morose, "Keep it!" Then we see his face communicate a vast array of emotions in just a few seconds: annoyance, weariness, frustration, sorrow, pain. What I like most about Fassbender's Rochester is that he is properly miserable, and it feels real. He is suffering, and the audience, like Jane in the novel, grieves for him without really knowing why. His acerbic humor is a front for his pain, but as the film progresses Fassbender layers other qualities—his genuine smile, his odd charm, his sensitivity. He, like Stephens in the 2006, adds a certain kind of sexiness to the role, but Fassbender's Rochester has less of the upper hand. He and Jane are clearly attracted to each other, but she's too good at resisting him, creating a cute dynamic where Rochester for once is the dazzled, infatuated pursuer. Oh, and he delivers a top tier performance during the leaving scene! 

Negative: As with the 2011 adaptation in general, a lot of the negatives come down to lack of time, but that's not really a critique is it? When it comes to acting the unspoken details of Rochester, few can match Fassbender. His weakness is Rochester's romantic speaking parts. Compared to the rest of his performance, his delivery of the best quotes from the book don’t pack the same punch. The iconic lines—"you rare unearthly thing,” “I must have you for my own,” “that expression did not strike delight in my very inmost heart”—seem to overpower him. He doesn’t quite find the authenticity in Brontë’s victorian language.

1. Timothy Dalton, Jane Eyre 1983

"To live, for me, Jane, is to stand on a crater-crust that may crack and spew fire any day. Now you look puzzled!" 

Positive: It’s hard to believe Timothy Dalton came to Jane Eyre as a novice to TV adaptations, but in his Rochester BBC discovered an absolute force. If Jayston and Fassbender lose steam when performing the ‘hallmark’ scenes between Jane and Rochester, then those passion-packed moments are Dalton's bread and butter. The 1983 adaptation is consistently at the top of my rankings of those “key” scenes best because of his stellar performances, and his work in the early and transitional scenes is just as good. Dalton is another powerful physical presence, towering above Clarke's Jane and sporting a bass voice that conveys Rochester's commanding nature and his socioeconomic, physical, and personal authority. But Dalton also knows how to be earnest and soft, and those moments are just as believable. No matter what Rochester's mood, Dalton plays it with conviction. The audience buys his Rochester in his varied forms—sullen, enigmatic, broken, charming, remorseful, gentle and hopeful. More importantly, Dalton actually captures all these facets of Rochester; he adeptly shifts in and out of the character’s different modes and, as is often necessary, holds them in tandem. We see why Rochester is intrigued that Jane holds up so well under his gaze and questioning: He's so piercing, so intense, so direct that most people wouldn’t know what to do with him. In light of Dalton's performance, it makes sense that Rochester asks, "You're afraid of me?" I could gush forever about the virtues of Dalton’s Rochester, but several writers have already written his praises far better than I can, and his performance will be well loved for generations.

Negative: Like Welles and other Rochesters, Dalton may overplay a bit for a modern audience. He doesn't overact as much as Orson Welles, but in his commitment to that conviction I mentioned above, there are moments where we wish he could dial it back a little. He puts everything on the table all the time, leaving little nuance for the audience to decipher, particularly when he portrays more volatile emotions. Also, this gif is perfection. Gosh, he's hot! That would be an obvious positive were it not for the fact that Rochester has no business being that attractive.

A Complete Ranking of Jane Eyre Adaptations

Jane Eyre is one of the most adapted books in history. Is it because the book is such a classic, or because studios and audiences can’t help but return to the original “unusual and self-possessed female protagonist meets mysterious Gothic bad boy” narrative that continues to anchor the romance genre? We’ve seen the inheritances of Jane Eyre everywhere, and artists have tried their hands at more than twenty adaptations of the original, and yet the book remains a challenge for filmmakers because all these efforts have failed to produce a “definitive” interpretation of the novel. The sheer range of time periods, technological capabilities, etc. makes ranking the different interpretations nearly impossible, but every few years I return to the task afresh to reevaluate. This ranking reflects my most recent binge of all the available Jane Eyre film and TV renderings as of 2024, including my favorite scenes from each (spoilers!!!!).

A quick note on method: This isn’t a ranking of my favorite portrayal Jane or Rochester. (You can find those elsewhere on the site, though.) Neither are the rankings based solely on faithfulness to the novel, though that is one of the most important criteria. Overall, these rankings are an alchemy of faithfulness, artistic/cinematic quality, the strength of the leads, and—well—sentiment, which is why these rankings also aren’t permanent.

18. Jane Eyre 1934 dir. by Christy Cabonne, starring Virginia Bruce and Colin Clive

I think of the first talky adaptation of Jane Eyre as if everyone involved assessed the insurmountable challenge and said, “Welp, we have to start somewhere.” That’s certainly the spirit with which I approach the 1934 rendering. Even the most charitable viewer struggles to find much that’s “good” about the film. After glancing over Jane’s entire childhood at Gateshead and Lowood in the first seven minutes, Jane Eyre 1934 moves swiftly to governess-master love story between Virginia Bruce’s platinum blonde Jane and Colin Clive’s tepid Rochester. Bruce offers an alternately sassy and drawl take on the titular character, whom Clive’s Rochester (affectionately known as “Uncle Edward” to Adele) dotes on. Everyone ignores the shrieks that periodically reverberate through the house until a dazed Bertha finally wanders downstairs during the wedding. In response, Jane takes a fifteen minute break from Rochester, during which his wife burns down the house and leaves him blind and widowed. And, of course, Jane and Rochester reunite.

Like I said, we had to start somewhere. But Christy Cabanne’s is doomed to be in the bottom two of Jane Eyre adaptations for the rest of time. We can excuse the film’s datedness, but Gothic horror was by no means a film novelty in 1934. The filmmakers chose to make a frothy romance that has little resemblance to the book and even less cinematic significance. The miscast actors can’t rescue the butchered script and, well, you get the idea. I wouldn't recommend watching this film unless you want to cringe or laugh.

Favorite Scene: Adele’s matchmaking efforts on behalf of Jane and “Uncle Edward” have no basis in the book, but they’re cute and comedic.

17. Jane Eyre 1957 dir. by Lamont Johnson, starring Joan Elan and Patrick Macnee

The best part of Jane Eyre 1957 is the last sixty seconds when (1) we see a cute reworking of a quote from the book and (2) we can finally breathe a sigh of relief knowing that this train wreck of an adaptation is over. I used to theorize that Jane Eyre remakes get better over time with the modernization of TV and film, but this one proved me wrong. Skipping Jane’s childhood (a common fault among midcentury adaptations) is only the first of several changes to the source material in this adaptation. The worst offenses: Jane and Rochester never get to the altar because Richard Mason interrupts the proposal; Macnee’s Rochester gets drunk and attempts to seduce Jane during their second(?) conversation; and Elan’s Jane is portrayed as a hopeless romantic who infantilizes Rochester when she’s not dodging his bad attitude and sexual advances. This adaptation views like a derisive spoof of Jane Eyre written by someone who didn't enjoy the novel. It also screams “sexual harassment in the workplace.”

Favorite Scene: There’s not much to choose from, but as I’ve already mentioned in the final scene where Jane and Rochester reunite, the script riffs on the line from the book in where Jane vows, “I will be your neighbor, your nurse, your housekeeper. I find you lonely—I will be your companion.” In this adaptation, Jane works the litany backward from “wife,” only for Rochester to reverse it again before a final kiss.

16. Jane Eyre 1949 dir. by Franklin Schaffner, starring Mary Sinclair and Charlton Heston

The fun thing about being a Jane Eyre diehard is watching iconic actors take on the role of Jane or Rochester early in their careers. This studio TV version isn't good by any standard, but it’s intriguing enough to watch a young Charlton Heston play an arrogant and indulgent Rochester for about an hour. Dispensing with the bulk of the book, this adaptation is only concerned with telling-not-showing the social chasm between Jane and Rochester. Mary Sinclair’s self-deprecating Jane needs no reminders that gentlemen in Mr. Rochester’s position don’t marry the help; she reiterates over and again that she’s “only a governess,” while Rochester repeatedly insists that she’s unusual. It’s hard to agree with him when the 1949 adaptation scripts Jane as little more than a weepy employee who never offers her opinion unless strong-armed by her boss. Case in point: Instead of declaring her equality with Rochester before God, Sinclair as Jane bursts into tears and begs, "Oh, do not make sport of me!" Without accurate characterization or essential plot points like Jane’s childhood and her time with the Rivers family, there’s nothing about this version worth revisiting once you’ve seen it once.

Favorite Scene: The show ends with a tidy and sweet reunion scene after the fire. A blind Rochester initially thinks one of the servants is playing a practical joke on him, only to find himself embracing a weeping Jane. “Who has tears for me?” isn’t a line from the book, but it’s adorable here.

15. Jane Eyre 1952 dir. by Jack Gage, starring Katharine Bard and Kevin McCarthy

This is another truncated TV studio tape that omits most of the story except for the romance between Jane and Rochester. Gage’s 1952 production at least improves on the 1949 version by lifting more quotes directly from the book. Unlike Mary Sinclair, Katharine Bard occasionally passes as elfish, otherworldly, and even opinionated. Opposite her, Kevin McCarthy plays Rochester like a like a midcentury TV sitcom dad. Though the dialogue between Jane and Rochester more closely resembles the novel, McCarthy’s performance flounders due to his unfaithful delivery and his poor chemistry with Bard. This adaptation has slightly better writing and performances than by the leading lady, but in all other respects its just a redo of the 1949 outing.

Favorite Scene: I really don’t have a favorite scene from JE’52 because it’s so awkward! The scene where Rochester attempts to convince Jane to stay is probably the best this adaptation can offer, but even that is laughable. “I shall ask nothing of you; only that you stay with me” is pretty hilarious since that’s asking quite a lot!

14. Jane Eyre 1961 dir. by Marc Daniels starring Sally Ann Howes and Zachary Scott

It may rank among other American TV adaptations at the bottom of the heap, but there’s more to like about this studio version of Jane Eyre than its predecessors. Sally Ann Howes oozes a kind of unitarian moralism in her turn as a spunky Jane, and her exchanges with Zachary Scott evoke Jane and Rochester’s rapid fire repartee in the novel. Howes’s Jane is blunt enough that even Mrs. Fairfax has to beg her to “be patient” with Rochester after the fire. Jane does just the opposite, and the couple’s reunion scene devolves into a debate that Jane wins decisively when she holds Rochester accountable and forbids him to feel sorry for himself. This artistic license is oddly placed in a scene that usually offers more emotional resolution than action in the book, but…I almost enjoyed it? Unlike other mid-twentieth century American adaptations, the writing and performances in JE’61 align to present Jane and Rochester as equals, recovering something of the essence of their relationship.

That being said, Daniels has no qualms about diverging from the text. Lines from the book are in short supply in this adaptation, as is Jane’s childhood. Making his first appearance in an American TV Jane Eyre, St. John Rivers looks and sounds more like Mr. Collins from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. And in the most perplexing departure from the novel, Jane uncovers the mystery of the mad woman in the attic before Rochester proposes, and he placates her with a partial confession (or a better lie): Grace pool’s patient was “married to a member of [his] family.” Of course Jane later discovers that the woman is in fact his wife, so this unsolicited edit to the source material accomplishes nothing except to make Rochester deceive her twice over. Neither is Scott’s Rochester particularly repentant about his dishonesty; he presents himself as a maverick who wants to “force the world” to respect their love as is. But if he’s willing to stand flat footed on their relationship, legitimate or not, why bother with layered lies and attempted bigamy? Ultimately the directorial/writing decision to half-reveal Bertha and make Rochester act based on his own sense of principle as opposed to desperation introduces more contradictions than it resolves. But even though Jane Eyre 1961 makes some head scratching choices, it’s not the worst watch.

Favorite Scene: In case you couldn’t guess, I find the argumentative take on Jane’s return to Thornfield slightly endearing. All that posturing by Rochester only to eat his words and admit “you were right” and “I’ve missed you so.”

13. Jane Eyre 1958 (Netherlands) dir. by Peter Hoen, starring Mia Goossen and Rob de Vries

Hoen’s Dutch-language adaptation borrows Constance Cox’s 1956 English BBC script almost word for word. The screenplay is generally faithful (see my comments on the 1956 BBC adaptation below), but Mia Goossen and Rob de Vries as Jane and Rochester lack the chemistry to carry it off. Even the worst adaptations have small moments that elicit a “rewind”—a touch, glance, the delivery of a line I could watch over and over. Those moments are few and far between here due to lackluster casting and forgettable performances by the lead actors. I jumped at the chance to view this previously hidden adaptation of Jane Eyre, but there’s not much to recommend it other than its novelty. The 1956 version, taken from the same script, is much more worth watching.

Favorite Scene: “Has my face become ugly Jane?” “It always was.” Goofy laugh.

12. Jane Eyre 1957 (Italy) dir. by Anton Giulio Majano, starring Ilaria Occhini and Raf Vallone

This Jane Eyre is an absolute mess, but I love it! Forget that Ilaria Occhini is stunning and completely miscast as Jane. Who cares that Jane’s childhood is botched and the showrunners combine John Reed and St. John Rivers into an invented character by the name of Jack Lloyd? Pay no attention to the fact that Jack Lloyd and Rochester actually meet face to face as romantic rivals. And never mind that Rochester attempts to hide that he’s blind when Jane returns to Thornfield after the fire!?!? Did I mention that you won’t understand a word of this adaptation unless you speak Italian? The whole production is chaotic and overwrought, but you can’t watch this adaptation for faithfulness; it’s all about the feeling. In order to get through it, you have to suspend your knowledge of the source material and commit to enjoying the fireworks between Ilaria Occhini’s Jane and Raf Vallone’s Rochester. Skip over it if you’re purist or a student trying to cheat on your Jane Eyre book quiz, but enjoy it if you’re a sap like me who enjoys a splash of Italian melodrama that occasionally makes creative references to the book. That nod to the “glittering ornament” at the end? Sigh.

Favorite Scene: For the better part of the reunion scene in this adaptation, a blind Rochester attempts to act like he can see only to end up embracing Jane, tracing her features, and reciting how she looks from memory. I’m paraphrasing (badly, from Italian), but the line goes something like: “You hair is combed the same as before, and still it escapes you here around the ears. And perhaps you have the same grey dress with the white collar that made you look so wise.”

11. Jane Eyre 1956 dir. by Campbell Logan, starring Daphne Slater and Stanley Baker

While American studios struggled to produce quality TV adaptations in the 1950s, the BBC was busy revolutionizing literary television. That observation is far from hyperbole; the BBC’s multipart miniseries (plural) changed the landscape of TV by refining the art of book-to-screen adaptations, and Campbell Logan’s 1956 production of Jane Eyre was among the first forays into this brave new world. JE’56 signaled the dawn of a new era that was anchored in part by screenwriter Constance Cox, who wrote the next two adaptations of the novel—the ‘58 Dutch rendition and the nearly-lost ‘63 revival. Aided by its multipart structure, the 1956 adaptation is the first to resemble the source material’s pacing. The show captures both Jane’s childhood and her life after Thornfield at length, recontextualizing Jane Eyre as a life story as much as a love story.

Daphne Slater impresses in her turn as the titular character, all the more because she plays adult and adolescent Jane. Not only is she well-cast (young, elfish, and properly plain); Slater convincingly portrays Jane’s growth from an indignant schoolgirl to a more demure, though still passionate and quick-witted, governess and then a decisive woman. Viewers might find her a little too girlish and naïve at points, but Slater draws on the range of the character’s childhood and adult experiences to portray Jane’s life journey. (This is also a testament to the importance of Jane’s time at Moor House, and why it’s necessary to include in a good adaptation.) Across Slater, Stanley Baker’s Rochester is less impressive. His limited performance and the expanded miniseries format do little to add to the character, and the show’s production values are still terrible by modern standards. But overall, JE’56 is a valiant addition to the Jane Eyre archive.

Favorite Scene: In general I enjoy all the scenes where Daphne Slater plays Jane as a child.

10. Jane Eyre/Jane Eyrová 1972 (Czechoslovakia) dir. by Vera Jordánová, starring Marta Vancurová and Jan Kacer

I enjoyed this version when I didn’t know what the actors were saying, and after recording seventy-five percent of the audio and running it through a translator (yes, I’m that committed) I liked it even more. Putting aside the fact that it too cuts Jane’s early years, this Czech adaptation is a tender, faithful, and wonderfully cinematic take on Jane and Rochester’s relationship. Marta Vancurová is a mystical Jane who captivates Jan Kacer’s melancholy Rochester, and their scenes together are hypnotic. This 1972 production isn’t a showy interpretation, but it captures some of the essence of the connection between the pair at the heart of the book. The actors establish a cord of communion between their characters that’s all the more impressive considering they only kiss once. Yet there’s chemistry here, and we can easily believe that Rochester knows the touch of Jane’s hand without his sight because hand contact really is their primary form of intimacy throughout the show. I love adaptations that highlight the motif/significance of the handshake in the source material!

Favorite Scene: The scene between Kacer and Vancurová after the failed wedding is sizzling. Kacer offers just the right amount of passion and persuasion, but he also appears to ascent to Jane leaving, so their “goodbye” embrace is touching.

9. Jane Eyre 1997 dir. by Robert Young, starring Samantha Morton and Ciaran Hinds

I have such a love/hate relationship with the 1997 version of Jane Eyre. And every few years the ‘96 and ‘97 swap places in the rankings. This time I’ve placed the ‘96 ahead in large part due to thematic coherence and technical quality. The made-for-TV ‘97 adaption doesn’t have the budget or production values to stylize the story the way Zeffirelli’s ‘96 film does, but I think the performances that anchor JE’97 are slightly stronger—even if it’s like comparing apples and oranges. At the helm of this adaptation is Samantha Morton, who in both manner and appearance is, in my opinion, a very accurate Jane. She is passionate, but she also knows how to reign in her inner fire just enough to reflect wisdom beyond her years. Her Jane is a complement to Hinds’s wild Rochester, who could do with a lesson on controlling his emotions. Even though he is Jane's social and experiential superior, Hinds’s Rochester he still relies on her as an advisor. In this adaptation, its apparent that Jane truly has the qualities that Rochester not only desires, but needs to master for himself.

The ‘97 is a solid adaptation with middling faithfulness alongside some very well-done scenes, such as Jane and Rochester’s conversation following Mason's injury and the reunion scene, when Hinds turns on the waterworks. But there are points where Morton can’t overcome the uninspired script or Hinds’s turbulent performance. The proposal (beware the infamous open-mouthed kiss) and “leaving” scenes are particularly disastrous. Hinds’s Rochester is passionate to the point of screamy and aggressive (a steep drop from his vocal portrayal of the character in the 1994 radio adaptation), and I’m sad to say that it diminishes the overall quality of the adaptation.

Favorite Scene: After the fire. I don’t like Hinds’s Rochester generally, but someone always starts cutting onions around me when he sobs, “My heart will burst for want to see your face!”

8. Jane Eyre 1996 dir. by Franco Zeffirelli, starring Charlotte Gainsbourg and William Hurt

Zeffirelli tries his hand at one of the handful of cinematic takes on Jane Eyre with mixed results. On the one hand, I appreciate the world and relationship I think Zeffirelli, Gainsbourg, and Hurt attempt to build in this adaptation, which isn’t a gothic romance. Instead, JE’96 feels more like a reflection on alienation. Everyone in this adaptation is lonely, beginning of course with the heroine herself. Gainsbourg, who matches the physical description of Jane, is young and doe-like, but she wears the mask of someone who has learned how to toughen up and make it on her own. Across from her, Hurt delivers a tender, sensitive, and sympathetic performance as a lost (if sometimes listless) Rochester trying to find his way back to “flesh and blood” after years of isolation. The ‘96 interpretation is “quieter” than other adaptations of the novel, but it reminds us that Jane and Rochester are exiles who, according to both characters in the book, find “kinship” in each other. 

But this subdued take on Jane and Rochester is as much the 96's most glaring weakness as it is its strength. The gap between the actors’ intent and their execution looms large in this adaptation. Unfortunately, the weakest link is Gainsbourg, who lacks the depth and experience to convey the deep well of emotion brimming just beneath the skin of Jane's cool exterior. Most of the time she just comes off blank. Similarly, Hurt’s performance straddles the line between melancholy and sleepy. And overall, Zeffirelli’s Jane Eyre often feels rushed despite clocking in at a healthy two hours. The measured pacing is fine at first, but then Rochester proposes with only thirty minutes left in the film and everything afterward (the failed wedding, Jane’s escape, the fire, and Jane’s time with the Rivers, etc.) is fast tracked, which essentially reverses the “slow burn” Zeffirelli had been establishing. All in all, the ‘96 adaptation has lofty ambitions and one of the better scripts, but sadly the pacing and performances don’t measure up to the film’s potential. It goes down as one of the bigger disappointments because I’m always haunted by what might have been, especially with a more skilled actress in the role of Jane.

Favorite Scene: I will live and die by this hot take: out of all the adaptations, JE’96 does the best interpretation of Jane and Rochester’s interrupted wedding and the introduction of Bertha Mason. This scene gets such short treatment in most adaptations, but Zeffirelli takes his time with it. The scene is also impeccably written/adapted from the book, and William Hurt executes Rochester’s reaction(s) to perfection. The moment at which his secret is revealed is when Rochester is least sympathetic, but Hurt taps into Rochester’s simultaneous remorse at having deceived Jane and the desperation of feeling that he had no other choice. At Briggs’s objection he is indignant, but then Mason’s appearance knocks the wind out of him and when he admits the truth in the chapel, his eyes lock with Jane’s in a silent apology. By the end of the scene, Hurt’s Rochester is entirely despairing, as if his foiled plans and the revelation of his past have emptied of all reserves of hope and energy he had left. The screenplay then places him in the predicament of choosing between chasing Jane or saving his wife. Rochester’s lowest point actually does the most character rehab in this version.

7. Jane Eyre 1970 dir. by Delbert Mann, starring Susannah York and George C. Scott

Like Zeffirelli’s 1996 adaptation, this made-for-TV film is frustrated by its own unfulfilled potential. The most common criticism of the 1970 adaptation is that the leads are both too old, but I don’t mind that the relationship between the characters reads as more mature. But there is definitely something missing from Jane Eyre 1970. On paper it has the makings of a great adaptation—a competent Jane in Susannah York, one of America’s greatest actors in the person of George C. Scott playing the role of Rochester, and a score by a legendary film composer—and yet JE’70 doesn’t make the most out of those gifts. Maybe Scott did come to the role too late, or only played it to collect a check; watch any of his earlier films and you see the qualities he could have brought to Rochester. Maybe the mediocre script didn’t highlight the leads' strengths or draw the reader into the world of the book enough. And perhaps it doesn’t help that the movie, which is in the public domain, has been spliced several times and suffers from poor sound and film quality as a result. It just…lacks.

And yet it’s ranked seventh because something still shines through the performances despite the film’s faults. I’m at odds with those who contend that York and Scott have no chemistry; in my opinion they have it in spades (albeit not necessarily sexual). I measure chemistry by using Rochester's own line from the book: “It’s as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string in the corresponding quarter of your little frame.” In any good pairing of the leads, the audience can trace that invisible string between Jane and Rochester, and I see it here between Scott and York. If anything, the audience doesn’t get enough of it because their scenes together are rushed.

Favorite Scene: The “I must leave you” scene really takes the cake for me in this adaptation. It’s not just Scott's desperate, "Jane, wait!” Something about the physical choreography of the scene increases my emotional investment as a viewer. Too often period films set in drawing rooms are static—they’re filmed and performed like portraiture. But the low lighting, the movement, and how/where York and Scott stand in relation to each other and the camera make the scene feel like an intimate, pitched battle for the relationship, only to end with a moving but momentary truce when Jane rests her head on Rochester’s knee.

6. Jane Eyre 1963 dir. by Rex Tucker, starring Ann Bell and Richard Leech

If “frustration” is a common theme in this middle tier of Jane Eyre adaptations, then BBC’s JE’63 is the most frustrating of all—not because of wasted potential, but because two of the series’ episodes are missing (insert crying emoji). Episode One admirably chronicles Jane’s early life up to the point she tells off Mr. Brocklehurst and departs for Thornfield, but then the viewer is jarringly transported to Episode Four when Jane and Rochester are newly engaged. Everything in between is lost. But even without the two most important episodes in the series, JE’63 is ranked highly because I’m convinced that it’s one of the best adaptations of the book. It has all the necessary ingredients. Constance Cox’s revised script improves on her earlier screenplays, which were already creditable. Under Tucker’s direction the dramatization also leans into the gothic tone of Brontë’s work more than other versions, with the exception, perhaps, of Stevenson’s 1943 offering. And Ann Bell and Richard Leech are almost perfectly cast in the roles of Jane and Rochester, with outstanding and mature performances in the fragments of the series available to us.

When I finally got the opportunity to watch this adaptation, I felt like Ann Bell was the Jane I’d been searching for. Her Jane leaves Lowood all passion and idealism, but has grown into a more composed (but still resolute) woman by the time the audience sees her again in Episode Four. She is unruffled by the moods of Leech’s Rochester, who is pitchy at points but overall very true to the novel. Leech fits Brontë’s physical description of Rochester word for word, and he offers a layered performance to match, juxtaposing who Rochester is on the surface versus who is with Jane. Bell’s assured performance brings out the best in him, as does William Russell’s ruthless portrayal of St. John Rivers. For the most part, this dramatization is strikingly faithful. I only hope that the two missing episodes will appear one day and that the rest of Jane and Rochester’s scenes will confirm my opinion.

Favorite Scene: It’s not my “favorite,” but it’s worth noting that each of Cox’s dramatizations include a scene where Jane and Rochester get into a little tiff over his unsolicited presents. Cox writes, and Bell and Leech perform, the scene to perfection. Presented with a gaudy dress, Jane remarks that “it would need Blanche Ingram to wear it.” Rochester suggests Jane should want to dress in a manner befitting his wife, to which she responds, “But not in a manner befitting your mistress.” Game, set, and match to Jane. Rochester apologizes, they share a laugh about his crankiness, and when Jane worries that other people will think they’re mismatched he nails another line invented by Cox: “There are no other people; only Jane Eyre…and Rochester.”

5. Jane Eyre 1943 dir. by Robert Stevenson, starring Joan Fontaine and Orson Welles

Along with JE’63, Robert Stevenson's 1943 dramatization is one of the few to properly capture the novel's gothic elements. The cinematography, sets, and score all emphasize the darkness of Gateshead, Lowood, Thornfield, and their inhabitants. In many respects, Jane’s life is a thriller. The script commits the capital sin of essentially cutting out St. John Rivers—Jane instead returns to Gateshead when she flees Thornfield—but overall Aldous Huxley manages to do a lot with less than two hours. Joan Fontaine is easy to dismiss as an overly glamorous Jane. While it’s certainly not the best performance, it’s also not as weak as critics have made it out to be. Fontaine doesn’t reach the emotional depth of better portrayals, but her Jane isn’t a pushover, even if she appears a little too serene amidst the gloom of Thornfield. Opposite her, Orson Welles is one of my favorite Rochesters. Of course, like Leech, he fits the character’s physical description. But young Welles—who, like Scott at the time of his turn as Rochester, was already becoming giant of American cinema and theater when he approached this role—also offers a resonant performance that layers different aspects of the character and then welds them together. Aided by his command over his vocal instrument, and by set lighting that alternately softens and hardens his features depending on the situation, Welles is both imposing and tender, enigmatical and charming, the haunter and the haunted. He steps in as the epitome of the romantic byronic hero, and the film seems to take shape around him.

The production’s coalescence around Welles’s performance isn’t surprising since Welles himself was heavily involved in the making of the film, receiving a producer’s credit for his work and leaving some of the stylistic marks that would come to epitomize his noirist work. Some of the darker scenes, including Rochester’s entrance, are attributed to Welles’s direction. With its 1940s acting style, breakneck kisses, and crashing score, it’s easy to dismiss JE’43 as outdated from a modern perspective, but in reality it’s an accomplished dramatization that was far ahead of its time when it came to adapting Gothic romance. Though it’s not well beloved among Brontë purists, the ‘43 ranks highly in my pantheon of Jane Eyre adaptations mostly due to Welles’s performance and the overall cinematic heft. In my opinion, it does what cinema adaptations should do: capture the spirit of the novel and immerse the viewer in its interpretation of the story.

Favorite Scene: The virtue of more cinematic adaptations is that good stagecraft makes you fall in love with a scene over small details. In JE’43, it’s the scene where Rochester catches Jane nearly crying in the hallway. For a moment, the dramatic score stills. Jane makes to exit and close the door behind her, but she feels some resistance from the other side; Rochester’s hand is pulling the door from behind her. He appears in the frame and greets Jane with a gentle, slightly smiling, “How do you do?” What a shot! And what a perfect read on the moment by Welles!

4. Jane Eyre 1973 dir. by Joan Craft, starring Sorcha Cusack and Michael Jayston

Despite claims to the contrary by 1983 diehards, JE’73 owns the title for the most faithful written adaptation of the novel. Robin Chapmam wasn’t creative with this script; there is nothing added nor subtracted—everything is drawn fresh from the well of Brontë’s text. Another shock to 1983 supremacists: Michael Jayston might own the title for the most accurate portrayal of book Rochester (see Ranking Rochesters for my reasoning). Jayston may not best fit the physical bill, but no one can match that simultaneously mercurial and infatuated smile that is the trademark of Jayston’s Rochester. Like her counterpart, Cusack is far from the most accurate physical representation of Jane, but she plays her character well, and her chemistry with Jayston is undeniable. Cusack and Jayston are at their best in all of the pre-proposal conversation scenes where Jane and Rochester probe each other, and the pair settles well into the an intimate and flirtatious friendship/situationship. Cusack’s Jane and Jayston's Rochester are both a comfort and a challenge to the other; they are clearly at ease around each other, and yet both are perplexed by their inability to decipher the other's true feelings. Almost no Jane/Rochester pairings can top their pre-proposal scenes.

On the other hand, Cusack and Jayston leave a bit to be desired from the proposal onward when the stakes are higher and the pair’s ease and informality fully fledge into romance. This adaptation can also be a little too sedate, lacking the gothic elements and production values that might have placed it first. Unlike many, I appreciate Cusack's voiceovers as a window into Jane's thoughts and internal dialogue, but object to how they are performed—quaintly and lacking the feeling that would animate Jane's stream of consciousness.

Favorite Scene: After sending Richard Mason away to nurse his Bertha bite, Jane and Rochester flee into the gardens of Thornfield where they have a misunderstanding. Rochester relays his history and his affection for a woman, Jane thinks he’s talking about Blanche Ingram, and there goes another chance to confess their feelings. But I love how this pair casually insults one another as a front for saying “I love you.” Rochester calls Jane a simpleton, but just as quickly takes hold of her hand and resists every urge to kiss it.

3. Jane Eyre 2006 dir. by Susanna White, starring Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens

JE’06 is “where it all began” for me. I was twelve. I kept an already-tattered copy of the novel in my backpack trying to convince my friends that it was better than the Twilight series (which was itself inspired by Jane Eyre), but I had no idea just how obsessed I’d become until I caught Susanna White’s dramatization airing on PBS one night. I don’t associate this adaptation with the more overtly gothic ones now that I’m an adult, but I definitely thought it was spooky when I watched it in the dark as a kid. The eery theme that signals when Bertha is afoot at Thornfield also plays when Rochester delves into his memories; the person and the past alike haunt him.

In fact, this adaptation emphasizes that both Jane and Rochester are fending off the intrusions of their pasts. Dispensing with the voiceovers that characterize earlier BBC productions, JE’06 leans into visual flashbacks: in the middle of a debate with Mrs. Ingram, Jane hears the voice—and then sees the image—of Mrs. Reed sneering that she was “born bad” and “will die bad”; when Rochester sets the stage for the story of Celine Varens, the viewer is immediately transported into that world onscreen. These mechanisms for showing-not-telling the past throughout the narrative visually remind us that Rochester’s guilt/regret and Jane’s suffering/trauma shape the story’s present. And all of this is accomplished without the monotony of Jane reading aloud to us. The casual viewer doesn’t even realize how remarkable an improvement the use of flashback is in comparison to earlier adaptations; it’s just good storytelling. But we shouldn’t take it for granted. Until the twenty-first century, Jane Eyre adaptations were prisoners of the linearity of Brontë’s first-person narrative. JE’06 changed the game by playing with time to capture Jane’s interiority, which opens a new plane of emotional investment and puts this adaptation in the top ranks.

But of course, all of those innovations would mean little if the performances didn’t support those directorial choices. (Looking at you, Charlotte Gainsbourg!) Luckily, Ruth Wilson, Toby Stephens and Co. bring the heat. Ruth Wilson is a natural and lively Jane who never seems overburdened by the period trappings. She and Toby Stephens’s Rochester are real equals and friends-turned-lovers. As much as I could gush about the sparks between the leads, what sets this adaptation apart is Wilson’s chemistry with all the secondary characters, particularly Tom Buchan's St. John Rivers. While it's clear that Wilson's Jane doesn't have romantic feelings for Rivers, they still have the appeal of close friends/family who could realistically build a happy marriage if they tried. Jane’s time away from Thornfield doesn’t just feel like a pit stop; seeking Rochester as opposed to marrying St. John is a real choice.

Despite what my gushing implies, JE’06 has large community of critics alongside its devoted fandom. At the time, the show’s modernizations freshened up the story and captured the hearts of young fans like myself. But the same modernization also watered down some of the best dialogue from the novel. It’s not unrecognizable; JE’06 isn’t a Bridgerton treatment or an anachronistic mess like, say, Netflix’s Persuasion. I would’ve loved to see Wilson and Stephens take on more of Brontë’s beloved language, though. Its modern revisions places Jane Eyre 2006 near front of the pack, but some of them also prevent the adaptation from claiming the top spot. 

Favorite Scene: I’ve written too much already so I’ll make this quick: Jane is summoned back to Gateshead and needs money for travel. She and Rochester go back and forth about it with some flirtatious banter and then during the handshake Stephens throws down “the look” and begs Jane not to go.

2. Jane Eyre 2011 dir. by Cary Fukanaga, starring Mia Wasikowska and Michael Fassbender

JE’06 may be my “first” Jane Eyre, but Fukanaga’s is my favorite. It was an effort not to rank it first. (In previous years it was ranked first.) JE’11 is a testament to the way good performances combined with high production values can create a beautiful adaptation under seemingly impossible time constraints. It isn’t perfect by any means: Grace Poole is basically nonexistent, and the frantic rush to cover most of the story shortchanges the growing friendship between Jane and Rochester. That being said, Fukanaga does a fine job balancing faithfulness and artistry. The film captures the spirit of the novel, including its gothic elements, Jane’s harsh childhood, and first-person perspective (accomplished through camerawork as opposed to voiceovers). Building on Susanna White’s use of flashback in JE’06, JE’11 is itself retrospective most of the way through. The film begins with Jane’s flight from Thornfield and her convalescence at More House, then throws us back into her childhood and slowly us works its way back to the present. The opening scene poses the question “How did she end up at the Rivers’ doorstep?” and the film proceeds to answer. When we finally come full circle and relive her desperate escape with the understanding that Jane has suffered, loved, and now suffered again, the emotional impact is heightened.

Unlike its predecessor, JE’11 doesn’t skimp on the Brontëan language either, which should please the purists. Working from a brilliant script, Mia Wasikowska offers a nuanced performance as Jane. In those early adult scenes, she embodies Rochester's description of the titular character: "Your garb and manner were restricted by rule . . . yet when addressed, you lifted a keen, a daring, and a glowing eye to your interlocutor’s face: there was penetration and power in each glance you gave." Wasikowska is almost too poised, but she gives the impression that her composure has been bought with a price—as if only the greatest effort is keeping her from bursting out of her skin and that restrictive corset (which contributes to a very embodied performance). Every tiny flash of her eye betrays her, as does her natural talent for gagging Rochester with just the right comebacks. Nothing is overdone between these two; there’s precision to their performances as Jane and Rochester feel each other out. Fassbender isn't the best physical representation of the character, but his sad and unceremonious Rochester complements Wasikowska’s Jane without overpowering her. JE’11 really is Jane’s story. When the camera isn't on her, it is viewing the world from her perspective, wading through her troubled memories, following her as she paces restlessly through the world before finally uniting with Rochester in a still embrace.

Had this film been a miniseries, JE’11 might have been the definitive adaptation. Alas, the actors and filmmakers were charged with the task of packing a 400+ page book into less than two hours. All the same, it’s still the version I recommend most to newcomers because it uses every tool at its disposal—casting, writing, visuals, and sound—to present a holistic take on the book.

Favorite Scene: This is hands down the best “I must leave you” scene. Fukanaga, Wasikowska, and Fassbender don’t compromise either accuracy or pure feeling.

1. Jane Eyre 1983 dir. by Julian Amyes, starring Zelah Clarke and Timothy Dalton

My most recent binge of this adaptation finally forced me to give it the credit it deserves and rank it first. This BBC miniseries isn’t a particularly cinematic adaptation, so you won’t hear me waxing poetic about production values, storytelling techniques, or “what a shot!” If you’re looking for technical feats or cinematic innovation, you won’t find it here. But are you looking for down home, bread-and-butter Brontë? Do you want to see two actors who studied, slept with the book at night, and then decided to carry an entire production on their own backs? Then look no further than Jane Eyre 1983.

I used to think Zelah Clarke was the weak link of this dramatization. Mea culpa. I just wasn’t paying enough attention, focused as I was on Dalton’s stellar turn as Rochester. Though Clarke comes in an unassuming package (like the titular character herself), she is small but mighty. The nuances of Jane are all in the brow and the corner of her mouth as she assesses Rochester, unfazed, and calmly “raps out a reply” without missing a beat. On the outside her Jane is tidy and practical, but her eyes soak in every situation. And if Michael Fassbender’s Rochester is careful not to overshadow his Jane in the 2011 adaptation, then Clarke’s Jane seems to say, “I will let Rochester think he runs the show.”

It’s easy to think he does, because Dalton absolutely acts his hind parts off as Rochester. His is a generational, role-defining performance akin to Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy. Rochester is a man of many parts, and Dalton plays them all—sardonic and self-important, moody and sentimental, fiery and passionate. At some points he manages to convince you that he’s not too sexy to play Rochester; at other points he makes his own irresistibility part of the character—it’s hard to tell where Dalton begins and Rochester ends, to be honest. And don’t let me forget Andrew Bicknell whose mercilessness as St. John Rivers keeps me glued to the screen. St. John really is as inexorable as death.

In a nutshell, JE’83 is just plain good adaptation that leans on faithful writing and strong performances that keep the viewer engaged through its daunting eleven episodes. Like its ‘73 counterpart, the adaptation pays close attention to the early moments and slow-simmering relationship with Jane and Rochester. But 1983 does better at nailing the relationship's climaxes, producing heartrending proposal, leaving, and reunion scenes. Do I wish it was more cinematic? Probably. But if any adaptation understood the assignment, it’s this one.

Favorite Scene: The proposal. There’s no score to increase the tension, the lighting is suspect, and the setting is unremarkable. This scene is simply two skilled actors standing flat-footed, embracing the source material, and becoming Jane and Rochester—that's all there is to it. Anyone who takes in Dalton’s performance here and doesn’t come away breathless won’t truly appreciate this adaptation, and that’s their loss.

Conclusion

There is no perfect or even definitive Jane Eyre adaptation. Each brings something to the table that others do not, or fails to represent an aspect of the novel that others highlight. My scene by scene rankings will bear out that each has its strengths and weaknesses, but this post attempts to provide a comprehensive overview of each adaptation as a whole. For viewers just encountering Jane Eyre, I’d recommend starting with the top five.