Stevenson isn't willing to let us forget that his film is based on a book. The first thing we see a leather-bound volume with the title "Jane Eyre" emblazoned on the cover; the book opens to reveal the film's credits exquisitely lettered on the opening pages. We're in danger of falling in love with the book as an object before the story even begins. By the time Joan Fontaine had finished reading out Brönte's opening paragraph, with the sentences themselves before me, I was in no mood to watch the movie - I wanted to go away and read the book.

Yet when it's not reminding us that it's at heart a version of something else, it's a very good film, falling not too far short of David Lean's "Oliver Twist" - which it resembles. Both films were shot almost entirely in the studio, yet don't feel studio-bound; they feel rather as though the directors had managed to find unusually claustrophobic out-of-door (or, in Lean's case, urban) locations. In both films a portion of every frame is consumed by impenetrable shadow. (Yet "Eyre" is detailed, and makes the best possible use of every frame.) Both films take place around in a callous England of the 1920s. (I got the impression that if Brönte's characters had for some reason gone to London they would have encountered Dickens's, although this impression was destroyed when the rich Londoners visit Rochester's castle.) Both films manage to be sentimental in an agreeable way. Both have excellent musical scores. In fact, this may be Herrmann's best score of the 1940s, certainly better than the one he wrote for "Citizen Kane", which is seems better than it is because the film as a whole is a masterpiece.

If you can, make sure you see a print with a pristine soundtrack. Orson Welles isn't always easy to understand.

Fox is a studio I have great regard for, especially in the 40s, and "Jane Eyre", impeccably performed with art/set direction that is first-rate, is just another example of how to present a Gothic drama, setting mood and atmosphere right from the start. We are immediately sympathizing with orphan Jane because she has no one and seems to be the epitome of mistreatment and symbolizes the disregarded child who must somehow sustain and rise above the despicable mores and religious bigotry of the era for which she was born, 10 years in an orphanage where its headmaster, whose pomposity and sense of order/control would have anybody crawled into a fetal position questioning why God would punish them for winding up under his iron fist. Jane, at adult age, will leave this orphanage, hoping to become a governess (considered by the aristocratic Londoners as a lowly position to be frowned upon), landing a job at a depressing, darkened castle, owned by a man (Orson Welles, whose character is borderline bi-polar the way he switches personalities constantly going from controlling to sweet, from ill-mannered to well-mannered, often speaking to and for Jane while addressing her in conversations) burdened with guilt, self-loathing, and shame, yet also forward and honest with her about his "condition" and life's woes. While he does keep a secret from Jane, the grand mystery of the plot concerning a scary woman with a witch's cackle who is kept locked away in a room at the other end of the castle, Edward Rochester wants to stay in constant contact with her and shares intimate feelings and anecdotes that slowly draws her into an emotional attachment to him and the new place for which she now lives. Will the two become romantically involved?

Damn, is Jane Eyre a good-looking movie, but without the superb Joan Fontaine, an actress I think is one of the best of her generation without the due respect she deserves (although, she did win an Oscar for her excellent work in Suspicion, and her performance in another Hitchcock classic, Rebecca, is essential viewing for those who want to know how to communicate to us a groundswell of emotion without saying a word through posture, expressive eyes, and an aching/distress that just tells us how she feels), I think this 1943 version of the classic novel would be pretty visually, lavish sets, costumes, lighting, all the technical achievements a five-star studio could muster, but lack the emotional depth it so richly depends on. We need to identify and love the lead character for she seems to be leveled with unjustified harsh insults and defamations; cruelty is all she ever seems to experience. When someone is kind to her, a little girl with black curly hair (played by a gentle, tender, adorable) Elizabeth Taylor in the orphanage, Daniell's loathsome magistrate leaves open shutters and makes her walk a circle out in the rain, causing her to succumb to pneumonia. Then Fontaine, as an adult, gives us the kind of quality performance that the character needs so we can feel her pain, her adoration, and overwhelming love for a man who may never belong to her. The camera awesomely captures faces: it's as if the background has little purpose and all that is left are the raw emotions pouring from the characters of Fontaine and Welles (Welles has never been more handsome). I think when you are able to get great performances and capture visually just the right bit of Gothic beauty, it's a perfect balance I admire and relish. I love my Gothic horror, to be sure, and Jane Eyre has areas that are part and parcel to this sub-genre I hold so close to my heart. This has a flawless cast, top to bottom. I think what this movie does well is illustrate the separation in classes and how love can sometimes bring two together despite this. If there was a flaw it will perhaps criticized by the literary community for maybe not covering more of the novel.