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 three adaptations of the novel—the ‘58 Dutch rendition, the nearly lost ‘63 revival, and the well-beloved ‘73 remake. (If you’re a fan of comparative viewing, it’s a treat to watch these adaptations as a unit and track Cox’s evolution.) Aided by the multipart structure, the 1956 adaptation is the first to truly resemble the source material. 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 life at More 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 simply 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 remorse. 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. Immediately after, the screenplay 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. And yet, 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 that juxtaposes 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 rings strikingly faithful. I only hope that the two missing episodes will appear one day and that the rest of Jane and Rochester’s scenes in it will confirm that opinion.
Favorite Scene: It’s not my “favorite,” but it’s worth noting that each of Cox’s dramatizations except JE’73 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 Lowood when she escapes—but otherwise Aldous Huxley manages to do a lot with less than two hours. Joan Fontaine is easy to dismiss as an overly glamorous Jane. But while her performance isn’t great, 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 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. Constance Cox wasn’t as creative with her final script; there are no invented scenes or lines—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 characters in 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 don’t support those directorial choices (looking at you, Charlotte Gainsbourg!). Luckily, Ruth Wilson, Toby Stephens and Co. bring the heat. Ruth Wilson is a lively and naturalistic Jane who never seems overburdened by the period trappings. She and Toby Stephens as Rochester are real equals, friends-turned-lovers. I could gush about that for a while, but what also 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 chemistry of close friends/family who could realistically build a happy marriage if they tried. And so 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. And it was an effort not to rank it 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 us 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 if you’re looking for down home, bread and butter Brontë? If 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 in this part. His is a generational, role-defining performance akin to that of Colin Firth as 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.