This blog post by the Economist talks about the anger in Jane Eyre and in Charlotte Bronte.
It's an interesting post that discusses the inherent anger and violent energy within Jane, the character and how it reflects Charlotte's anger over her position in life and the lot of women.
Charlotte was educated but was hemmed in by her status as a woman in England. The author talks about someone remarking that the novel would have been admirable if written by a man but was "odious" from a woman.
While I was performing the piece, I didn't think about the anger of the character because I wasn't portraying that part of her. The adaptation we were doing split Jane into Jane and Bertha. Bertha was the emotions that Jane locked away and refused to share. Interestingly, this was said to be extremely powerful. That Jane denied herself the feelings but could never truly abandon them.
I think about the play Mother Courage, in which the titular character literally drags her burdens with her throughout the piece in the form of her cart full of items for sale. Her business is meant to keep her and her children safe and ultimately it is the business that causes the death and destruction of her family.
Similarly, this adaptation of Jane Eyre claims that Jane causes her own misery--ie she is unable to truly be happy without Bertha. Denying herself does not lead Jane to happiness.
The metaphor is not perfect. Metaphors seldom are, but I don't remember feeling the anger of the character during the process, though my incomparable co-star, Sarah, absolutely did. I remember her remarking on dozens of occasions, just how frustrating the whole process was for her to watch Jane refuse to react.
I remember how strange it and frightening it was for me to be required by the script to hold back and yet to need to be totally emotionally available through my eyes and face.
I consistently wanted something physical to do. The challenge of needing to remain still the challenge of holding myself together while needing to be flighty. It was exhausting and terrifying.
Where was the rage? Where is Jane's rage? Where is the simmering burbling underneath of Jane that this author talks about?
It's an interesting post that discusses the inherent anger and violent energy within Jane, the character and how it reflects Charlotte's anger over her position in life and the lot of women.
Charlotte was educated but was hemmed in by her status as a woman in England. The author talks about someone remarking that the novel would have been admirable if written by a man but was "odious" from a woman.
While I was performing the piece, I didn't think about the anger of the character because I wasn't portraying that part of her. The adaptation we were doing split Jane into Jane and Bertha. Bertha was the emotions that Jane locked away and refused to share. Interestingly, this was said to be extremely powerful. That Jane denied herself the feelings but could never truly abandon them.
I think about the play Mother Courage, in which the titular character literally drags her burdens with her throughout the piece in the form of her cart full of items for sale. Her business is meant to keep her and her children safe and ultimately it is the business that causes the death and destruction of her family.
Similarly, this adaptation of Jane Eyre claims that Jane causes her own misery--ie she is unable to truly be happy without Bertha. Denying herself does not lead Jane to happiness.
The metaphor is not perfect. Metaphors seldom are, but I don't remember feeling the anger of the character during the process, though my incomparable co-star, Sarah, absolutely did. I remember her remarking on dozens of occasions, just how frustrating the whole process was for her to watch Jane refuse to react.
I remember how strange it and frightening it was for me to be required by the script to hold back and yet to need to be totally emotionally available through my eyes and face.
I consistently wanted something physical to do. The challenge of needing to remain still the challenge of holding myself together while needing to be flighty. It was exhausting and terrifying.
Where was the rage? Where is Jane's rage? Where is the simmering burbling underneath of Jane that this author talks about?
I don't know.
ReplyDeleteHaving read the blog post, I am not sure.
It doesn't seem to be their main point, but it is peculiar that they settled on rage when discussing both Jane's and Charlotte's proclivity to speak out of turn.
It sounds like a dam breaking rather than their emotions.
Quick witted and told to keep silent by society do not seem to agree with them.
If that induces rage, then so be it.
But, in performance, it is unlikely to take shape organically unless it is specifically constructed in that way.
So where was Jane's rage? Who is to say there ever was any?
That's fair. The performance gets shaped by what happens and how it's built.
DeleteThere's also a good deal of projecting I think when there's not a lot of "This is how I feel"--actions get interpreted and presented. They're built through repetition.
It's a good question--the reader #readerresponsetheory