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darthmaulification · 2 years

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How would Maul react to a force sensitive jedi or Grey Jedi reader briefly having sith eyes? Like maybe they’ve been falling from the light for a while and have a moment of complete dark side rage and look up at Maul with the telltale eyes?? I kinda think he’d be into that image but I’m curious what you think!

A/N: anon, i’m so sorry, but if you were expecting anything even remotely fluffy this is... Not That.

this also has two inspos: first, IFHY by tyler, the creator and stockholm: a love story in three parts by daniel. (both of which i pulled lines from, for emphasis)

ALSO, if you can spot the spider-man:nwh line reference, you’re a bonifide sexy bitch. and if you can spot the greek myth i mention, and know who i’m talking about, you win my ssn. 💗

(also does anyone remember when people were like “omg IFHY is such a romantic song 😍😍” when it’s like... clearly about abuse? like you can read certain aspects of “love” from it (i guess???), but it’s overarching theme, especially accompanied by the visuals in the music video, is supposed to portray a toxic relationship. girl, anyways... 🙄)

hope you enjoy! 💗 (and please keep in mind this fic is not a happy one)

content: angst, gn!reader, 🚨EXPLICIT toxic/abusive relationship🚨, obsession (kinda both ways, but maul is explicitly in the wrong), stalking, manipulation, mental spiraling, overall general unhealthiness, savage stars as maul’s complacent enabler 😬, pov changes that are purposely a bit chaotic, lots of implied death and destruction, 🚨 mention of a deceased child 🚨

word count: 2,934

If held to the light, I guess obsession holds water better than love

It’s not long after Lotho Minor, when the wounds on his psyche are still fresh, still susceptible to reopen and split further. Tender areas in his mind where it feels as though neurons have misfired and have caught others in the process. He’s... fractured, needs to be tiptoed around because any wrong move, any wrong word, can set off an episode. Casualty would be the result.

Maul is volatile, a pulsating minefield that tempts to be ignited. It severely hampers his judgment, his impulse. His self control.

Savage tries his best to keep Maul level, but he can only do so much when the Force sings in Maul’s head like a siren to a sailor at sea. It whispers and coos, shows him all that it is tied to and then some. Maul can’t focus on anything but it, and this exacerbates his instability. He basks in the Dark, succumbing too deeply to the shadows.

One day, the Force introduces him to something new. Someone new.

A signature, sickly sweet, the type of aura that is so entrenched in Light that if he had a weaker stomach, he’d be nauseated by it’s potency. Instead, Maul’s annoyed, blanching at the pathetic nature of whoever’s aura it is.

Yet there’s something... captivating about it. The more Maul tries to force himself to forget it and move on, the more it draws him in. It tempts him with its siren-song, so beautiful and bright, and all Maul thinks when he hears it is “I want to ruin you” and “I want you to be mine.”

His judgment is failing.

Like a rare bird, Maul wants to keep it in a cage, prune its feathers, and keep it singing for him, for eternity. Oh yes, Maul wants it to sing.

He hunts you down with ease and loses his control at the same time.

You’re... hesitant, to say the least— somewhat fearful and far too soft— but that’s nothing Maul hasn’t seen before. It doesn’t dissuade him in the slightest, instead he sweet-talks you a little more, smirks when your cheeks warm, because he knows he’s sunk a hook into you. When you agree to come with him, that’s when he starts reeling in the line.

It’ll take a certain type of patience to pull you all the way in— the slow, steady type that Maul wasn’t gifted with and had to learn— but that’s only part of the obstacle, the journey, as they say. He’ll be able to change you, to push you over the edge, to open your eyes to new, better possibilities. He has before.

Maul walks you to his ship with a hand splayed on the low of your back. He’s never this physical with someone, this personal, but the Force sings at the connection of your touch. It buzzes and hums, quivering in the air and Maul relishes the feeling like an addict would their high.

Though, he’ll admit, it isn’t perfect. Your connection to the Force is... loose. It holds onto the potential power with a weak-wristed grip, one that’s prone to being wrenched from your hand at the slightest provocation. Your grasp is fleeting, flighty like a startled bird, one that flies away at signs of change, of danger.

Interestingly enough, the direct danger Maul poses to you doesn’t shake that bird from it’s nest...

Maul decides the first step is to gain your trust so that he can learn each and every one of your secrets and desires, all to keep you tethered to what he wants most. He’ll treat you better than he’s ever treated anyone before, even his own brother, and play the role of a heartsick, hopeless romantic to both ease your nervousness and sink the hook in deeper.

It’ll be difficult, not to mention humiliating, but Maul will persevere because every time your tie to the Force tightens, he hears it whisper to him like voices carried on the summer breeze.

“My dear,” He purrs to you one day, reveling in those cooing voices, “Do you know that you are special to me?”

You dip your head, embarrassed and bashful, in the way that shows your weakness all too well. Flighty as you are, Maul’s tender little dove, he does too well to hide the fact he’s a grinning Nexu waiting to strike. A threat basking in the shadows.

A sign of danger in the Dark.

Maul is an enigma.

You find it curious how somedays he’s calculating, silver-tongued, and level-headed (relatively, he is still Maul). He speaks eloquently, so often has his hands clasped behind his back as a perfect image of a poised leader, and nearly has you trembling with how slickly his molten gaze will traverse you, hunger in his eyes.

So often on these days you’re the center of his attention, the apple of his eye. Maul isn’t one for subtlety either, and he tells you this many times, either delighting you with fleeting touches or words that feel like sweet nothings. On these days, Maul feels more like a lover to you than your employer.

Briefly, you pondered the ethics of that type of arrangement, but the thought was washed away when Maul bade you to his side with a beckoning of his hand. How could you deny that?

Standing next to him, as he sat on the throne of Mandalore, exhilarated you like nothing else. It made you feel special, someone to be looked upon with importance. That feeling was almost as satisfying as simply being next to Maul, who you had to admit you were painfully heartsick for.

How could you not be? For someone as exotically attractive as Maul, that deep crimson skin and those inky tattoos, it surprised you that he didn’t have more suitors begging for his hand, or even his gaze. And those eyes... you can forgive their angry, bloodshot sclera in favor of the fiery embers of his irises. Maul is handsome, and he knows this, and the confidence radiates throughout him.

But then there are some days when he’s... mad. Not only the wrathful, flaring fury you’ve seen from him, but a type of wild in his eyes that reminds you of a story you heard in your youth. One about a king, one who was a thief and audacious, who crossed the gods and was cursed, alongside his closest men, to become a ferocious wolf after sundown. In the story, the king also had the propensity to ravage and destroy his own kingdom, to run with his men and slaughter his own subjects beneath the light of the moon.

You cotton on quite quickly to Maul’s tendency to act very much like that; prone to bouts of uncontrollable fury and vitriol, episodes of physical destruction, killing any poor soul that gets in his way...

Somedays, Maul reminds you of that king. Somedays. Mostly though, Maul is charming, intelligent, and attentive to you and only you. Stars... the way he’ll look at you with those eyes.

When you asked his brother, Savage, the towering yellow Zabrak got a strange look in his eyes, shrugged, and said “Maul is many things”.

(Gone unspoken were the words “Many of them bad”. After everything that happens, Savage regrets not saying them. You never learn this.)

How long is it before captivity sets in?

Like unassuming prey, you so unwittingly allowed Maul to get close.

In regards to that, that’ll be the only thing Maul ever praises your naïveté for. He found it very easy to convince you of most things— your trusting nature surely allowed for it— and so it didn’t really come as much of a surprise to him when you fell in love with him either.

Love, such a fickle, malleable thing— such an easily hijacked emotion, one that bends to the will and want of its recipient. Your love for him made it easier for Maul to influence you to the Dark all the more simpler. Quicker too, and without much pushback.

In most other instances, your propensity to blissful, delightful ignorance was such a hassle to deal with. You were always too kind, too caring— an unfortunate set of characteristics that Maul decided he needed to wheedle out of you like bloodletting. Love allowed for this to be near painless. Maul thanks the kindly goddess for this.

Sex also became another tool for Maul to utilize to sink his claws in deeper, both metaphorically with each “Stupid whore” or “Dirty, pathetic creature” and literally, as displayed by the crescent-shaped imprints on your hips, the bruises on your thighs, the knicks from horns on your neck. Such intimacy is compounded by sneers and condescending glares, and Maul gives you no relinquishment from the aches that linger.

You’re driven to near-hysteria each time you find yourself weeping from the pleasure and pain in equal amounts. And you’re left confused and ashamed to admit that you love it. What is this?

Call it cruelty, call it inhumane, let it be any word equal to devastation. You yearn for Maul despite the pain— in spite of the pain.

It comes to an unpleasant head one day. A day to far in that you can’t turn back from. Everything good ends.

“Not every problem has to be solved with death!” You cry, trying to reason with Maul, finally consumed with the depravity of the situation. You can’t remember exactly what sparked it— a sour look, a snide word, a meeting gone bad— but you certainly know how it’s going to end. Other Death Watch members, the ones who survived, will contact the relatives of the dead, and funerals will be had.

Maul with forbid you from going to any of them, and you’ll obey, even if deep down you know that’s horribly wrong. That Maul is horribly wrong. You don’t have the seconds to ponder.

“It is efficient! Swift!” Maul bellows, closing the space between you in three long paces. Molten eyes blazing with fury, he snarls, “Every soul I snuff is a message sent to the rest who may dare cross me.”

Hs tone dips low, the wrath simmering dangerously beneath the surface. His glower shifts into a smirk that bares his sharp canines, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve seen him angry before, Maker knows you have, but you’ve never seen this.

“My dearest pet,” Maul coos, sickly sweet, and you stiffen as his hand travels up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His touch is feather-light until his hand reaches your neck, where he grabs your throat so suddenly it pulls a startled yelp from you. Immediately, your hands fly to his wrist, the muscle and tendons taut under your fingertips. The hold isn’t suffocating, but the pressure Maul holds firm on your windpipe threatens the air that flows through it.

“Maul—!” You gasp, tears stinging the backs of your eyes when his fingers start to close in around your neck, digging into your skin. The grip is bruising, too tight, and Maul isn’t letting up. He growls low in his throat, and to your horror, elevates you into the air until your feet no longer touch the floor.

“It is your morality that makes you weak!” Maul seethes through his teeth, fangs bared, all as the hand he has wrapped around your throat squeezes tighter. You make a strange gurgling sound in the back of your throat, like you’ve tried speaking and the words have been strangled. Desperately, your nails claw at Maul’s wrist and forearm, as your feet kick limply at the air.

“Can you feel it choking you?” Maul laughs boisterously, watching with cruel glee as you kick the air with more fervor. Eyes wide and ashen lips gaping, the lack of oxygen has started to form black dots at the edges of your vision, pulling you to oblivion. A single tear falls from your eyelashes. The laughter in Maul’s eyes disappears with a blink, leaving him stoic and unforgiving.

“We are not placed on this world to sit and watch,” Maul spits in that deadly hiss, eyes flaring, “We are here to take and take, until everything is ours.”

He drops you, and you crumple to the floor, landing with a rough thud. As you wheeze, gasping for breath, Maul stands above you with a disdainful look upon his face. Hands behind his back, Maul rolls his eyes at the tears rolling down your cheeks, and scoffs when they fall off your chin.

“Enough of this.” He states, tone apathetic, and Maul squats in front of you so that he’s level with you. Fingers rubbing at the raw, bruised skin of your throat, it takes everything to look up at him, your esophagus burning at the motion. Maul’s eyes lock with yours.

“Sith stop at nothing for power.” He starts, and you flinch when his hand rises, but are surprised to find that Maul only tucks your hair behind your ear. His hand goes to rest on your cheek, and his calloused palm is warm in the way that a burn is after a flame has scorched the skin. He tilts your head to the side, and hums.

The bruises on your neck, swollen and purpling, are in the shape of his fingers, rows of swollen ovals that mar your skin and that bring the blood to the surface. A small, genuine, delighted smile curls Maul’s lips upwards, and even through the tears you realize with mounting disgust that you want him to smile like that more.

“Beautiful.” Is the last word absentmindedly murmured past his lips before he stands, abruptly turns on his heel, and leaves the room.

Your left on the floor, dazed and hurting, and the sick thought that you wonder is why that single, stupid word meant so much to you.

You spend a day and a night spiraling. No one bothers you— not Maul, or Savage, or Saxon— and despite being so utterly alone, you feel an inkling below the surface. Something pokes at you, prods at your skin and it feels both sharp and dull.

It comes from all directions, like being plunged into the icy depths of the seas on Kamino or frozen in the ice of Hoth. Either way its shadows that tug at your vision, inky black that robs you and pulls you in. You wonder if the light in the dark is a lure, and if the anglerfish awaits just beyond its rays.

It doesn’t matter, why strive for the Light? The Dark is so abundant.

Good pet.

You hear Maul and want to laugh and cry. You do both in the loneliness of your bedroom.

On a planet, in a burning village, you fall to your knees. Eyes fixed at the sight in front of you, bile rises in your throat when you spot the corpse of a child in your peripheral. They hold a stuffed Loth wolf.

Tears blur your vision, and when it clears Maul stands before you. You stare at the tops of his thighs, and they become blurry. Tears, again. Your face is wet, tears fall from your chin and land on your dirt and blood covered hands.

Maul places his thumb and forefinger beneath your chin, so tenderly it almost feels like compassion. He tilts your head up, and when your eyes meet his, a broad grin splits across his face. Toothy and bright, the type of smile that wipes away years off of Maul’s face and gives him a boyish charm. You love that smile.

“Oh, my dear.” He murmurs, his thumb swiping across the apple of your cheek to wipe away the tears that have rolled down it. When he’s gathered the wetness on the pad of his thumb, Maul pulls his hand from you and the absence aches. His gaze never parting from yours, he licks up the salty droplets with single swipe of his tongue.

Maul thinks you taste like desperation. He chuckles darkly, Like satisfaction.

He loves your eyes.

Gone are your irises, their once bright hues replaced by that familiar, sickly yellow ringed in fire. Your sclera are tainted, bloodshot and painful looking, your eyes’ normalcy and sunny disposition smothered by anguish. Raw, venomous fury and all-consuming sorrow in your eyes, like a potent poison, have whittled out the kindness and naïveté that once existed within them.

More tears roll down your cheeks along with the last of your inhibitions, emotions too sensitive for what Maul has trained you for. These tears, these special tears, leave you cold, stony— Enlightened. Finally, you can see.

“Rise, apprentice.” Maul commands and you can do nothing but obey, an unconscious reaction, movement without thought. Your knees shake under you, but the firm stare Maul has on you wills you to force them to stop. The breath in your lungs feel like smoke, and the tar chokes you from within.

“You are reborn.” Your Master says, and you nod, too overwhelmed and dumbed to do much else. He lifts his hand, and in it you find a hilt of a slim lightsaber. It doesn’t occur to you that you’ve taken it until it’s in your hand, and ignited to its bloody red with a hiss.

Maul is so proud of you. Secretly, Savage asks the gods for forgiveness.

This isn’t healthy, you know this to be true.

It doesn’t bother you.

(Spend the rest of my life, looking for air)

(So you can breathe, or we can die together, you and me)

I’m in love

#star wars #star wars darth maul #darth maul x you #darth maul x reader #darth maul #anon ask #request #orion answers #maul x reader #star wars maul

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iamthenightcolormeblack · 3 years

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My Thoughts on Jane Eyre 1983: Mr. Rochester Steals the Show

A while ago I reviewed the 2011 adaptation of Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte's most famous novel. As my Jane Eyre obsession continues, I will review the 1983 BBC miniseries, which is more faithful to the book. This version, which consists of 11 half-hour episodes, stars Zelah Clarke as Jane Eyre and Timothy Dalton as Mr. Rochester.

First and foremost: Timothy Dalton's Rochester is THE BEST; HE IS ROCHESTER.

Yes I know one can complain he's too pretty (some argue that Rochester isn't ugly, just doesn't conform to 19th century beauty standards) but Dalton's Rochester is closest to how I pictured the character in the book, with jet black hair and fiery eyes. This version includes the unsympathetic aspects of Rochester as well, like his violent mood swings and impulsiveness. Dalton’s portrayal is the most complex that I have seen and encompasses all the contradictory aspects of Rochester; his mocking sarcasm, his anger, his pain, his passion, and his tenderness. When I was watching Timothy Dalton's Rochester I found myself thinking "EXACTLY. PRECISELY!" (in Timothy Dalton's voice). Dalton's voice is very expressive as well; it is haughty and imperious, but also tender and despairing. A minor nitpick I have regarding Dalton is that his acting style can seem “overdone,” especially during the romantic scenes, but let’s remember that it is to say the least, extremely difficult to portray a complicated character like Rochester and Dalton exceeds all expectations. In the book, Rochester really is melodramatic and an emotional train wreck; he’s hard to love.

My Personally Picked Timothy Dalton Highlights:

The gypsy scene--with Rochester actually disguised as the gypsy! (And I think Dalton was actually the one doing the raspy voice of the gypsy because the "gypsy" still had the actor's unique accent--AMAZING ACTING). I think it's important that Jane Eyre adaptations include some form of the gypsy scene because it shows that Rochester is manipulative, and also that he's very perceptive because his insights into Jane's character (that she need not "sell her soul" to be happy) turn out to be accurate.

The conversation after a wounded Mason is sent away. Rochester hints at how his first marriage, dubbed his “capital error” has caused him to become sinful. He also implies that he loves Jane as she provides him a respite from his dark past but can't get what he wants: an admission from Jane that she loves him. He then gets frustrated and resorts to manipulation by taunting her with the idea of his marriage to Blanche. Dalton is brilliant here because just through changing the tone of his voice (from hushed and gentle to bitter and mocking) he signals to the audience that Rochester is hopelessly in love with Jane, and longs for her to confess it so that he won’t feel guilty about being with her in spite of his secret. It’s heartbreaking watching him trying to come clean and be honest with Jane only to resort to his defense mechanism of ridicule when he is foiled.

My favorite scene in the entire miniseries: the scene where Rochester informs Jane she is to go to Ireland after he marries Blanche, getting her to reveal that she likes him. The acting is top notch; we see a previously composed Jane become distressed and lose control after admitting that she likes Rochester and doesn't want to be away from him. Dalton's Rochester, after sarcastically prodding Jane, smiles triumphantly and leans back in his throne (a large red chair), basking in his victory and enjoying the fruits of his manipulation; he has successfully pushed all of Jane's buttons and gotten what he wants: an admission of her affection for him.

The day after the proposal. Even though I think it gets a little corny, the scene shows Rochester’s impulsiveness when he spontaneously decides to order jewelry for Jane and the next moment rips up the blank check when she tells him she doesn’t want anything.

The farewell scene. Rochester catches a sick Jane in his arms and attempts to gain control of the situation by assuming the role of a concerned lover by taking care of her. There is an interesting detail in this scene where she gets to sit in his throne (the red chair) while he sits on her smaller stool, foreshadowing of how the traditional patriarchal power dynamics of the relationship will be reversed. When Jane decides to leave Rochester, Dalton’s acting is so good, conveying the violence of his affections (Pride and Prejudice reference but it works here) like when he lashes out at Jane for wanting to leave him. Most importantly the scene shows how Rochester has lost control and cannot live without Jane. He ugly cries and paces frantically like a caged animal, trembling as his emotions take over what little composure is left in him, while Jane slips away from him.

Other things I liked:

Lots of original dialogue used--purists and readers will be happy. The miniseries for the most part replicates each scene with the exact dialogue from the book (though not every scene is included).

The miniseries devotes time to Jane's life before meeting Mr. Rochester: episode 1 is dedicated solely to Jane's childhood at Gateshead Hall and episode 2 is of Jane's years at Lowood School. Rochester does not appear until the very end of episode 3. Because of the significant time given to Jane's early years secondary characters such as Bessie the maid and the kindly Miss Temple are included, and Jane's relationships with them are fully developed.

They included the parts of Jane's journey across the moors where she tries and fails to find work and is forced to beg for food, even eating pig food. It shows that Jane must give up some of her pride in order to survive.

Finally a St. John who is handsome, tall and has blond hair! This portrayal is the most faithful to the book because St. John is cold, but handsome enough to be a romantic rival to Rochester. Other viewers commented that this St. John is dangerous because of his good looks, inflexible will, and intelligence, which are seductive but ultimately harmful to Jane because her individuality will be suppressed by him.

This adaptation didn't skip over St. John's proposal to Jane, unlike the 2011 movie and the 2006 BBC miniseries. This part in the book is important because it shows that Jane risks losing her mental freedom and sacrificing love if she agrees to marry St. John. It is an important turning point in her character development because she sees that following her heart is just as important as following reason. I like how the miniseries included the full dialogue, like St. John’s assertion that Jane is "made for labor and not love.” It is also a test for Jane's mental strength because Jane ALMOST AGREES TO MARRY ST. JOHN until she hears Rochester calling for her. In other versions, St. John's proposal is reduced to a few lines and Jane hears Rochester's voice before she is able to think through St. John's proposal.

Rochester is actually injured at the end. In the 2011 film he merely loses his eyesight and grows a beard, while in the 2006 BBC miniseries he is relatively unscathed except for some minor facial scarring and a bandaged left hand. Here he loses his left hand (like in the book) and also has one eye knocked out, while gaining a cheesy 80s mullet.

Here's the biggest problem with this adaptation: Jane Eyre doesn't take center stage; though she appears in every episode, her personality is overpowered by Rochester's.

The actress looks the part but she seems to be too mature to believably portray an 18 year old. While one can simply argue that this is because the actress is too old to play Jane (Clarke was 29), it's not the main reason why this portrayal isn't my favorite, since the highly praised Ruth Wilson was 24 when she played Jane in the 2006 BBC miniseries.

This Jane is too rational and restrained, whereas in the book, Jane struggles between passion and reason. When we see Jane, most of the time she is composed and keeps a poker face. Her replies to Rochester are delivered in a calm, cool, and detached voice, with an unnatural poise which doesn't match Dalton's fieriness (and the book makes clear that Jane is passionate like Rochester). We aren't sure if those are her own thoughts or come from a teleprompter.

There isn't quite enough repressed passion in key romantic scenes such as the first proposal, and this Jane is easily overshadowed by Timothy Dalton's theatrics. When Jane does show some emotion, she often has sad/fearful doe eyes, which do not read as "strong and fierce" woman. Though Jane does suffer when fearing that Rochester could never love her, her relationship with Rochester also makes her happy because he respects her. The emphasis on her puppy-dog eyes, along with the significant height difference between Jane and Rochester in this version, contradict the book's portrayal of the relationship as one between equals--Jane is tiny and becomes swallowed up by Rochester's commanding presence.

Though one can argue that the social manners of the time meant that Jane should be restrained, emotional freedom is necessary to Jane's growth and independence. Over the course of the story, she allows herself to become more passionate and loving, as expressed in this quote I pulled from the book: "I must indulge my feelings; I so seldom have had an opportunity to do so." We don't get to see Jane actually release her emotions, except when she happily greets her friends and has a teasing look in her eyes after being reunited with Rochester. The ironic part is that she's happier greeting her friends than being with Rochester.

While restrained characters may work in books, where readers have access to a character’s thoughts, it doesn’t translate well to film where most action happens in real time.

One way films attempt to develop restrained characters is through voice over narration, where characters narrate what is going on in their heads while keeping a straight face on screen. This miniseries utilizes voice over narration by Jane in keeping with the first person point of view of the book, which is Jane Eyre's autobiography.

Though voice overs can be effective in providing commentary/a unique perspective on the action taking place before our eyes, they shouldn't be used as narrative devices. Voice overs as narrative devices don't work well because they detract from the action--the viewer must focus on taking in the information from the voice over while keeping up with what the characters are doing. Narrative voice overs can also be redundant and unnecessary; for example, when Jane is heading to the town inn after hearing Rochester's voice, Jane tells us (paraphrased): "I went to the inn to find out what happened to Rochester because I was worried about him." The best films show rather than tell--a picture is worth a thousand words. In addition, the viewing experience is improved when the audience gets to interact with the film by interpreting it, rather than having scenes explained to them through a voice over. A certain degree of ambiguity is necessary to increase interest.

Other minor nitpicks:

The adaptation was able to develop Jane's relationship with Helen Burns but skipped Helen's death scene. Helen's death is a significant moment in Jane's development not only because it is traumatic but because Jane loses her first friend. It also reinforces the fact that Jane is lonely and it establishes how important friendships are to Jane.

The ending: it doesn't pack the same emotional punch that it does in the book. Rochester remains bitter about being crippled, and the last shot of the series shows her reading to Rochester, making it seem like she became his nursemaid rather than a free, independent woman.

Conclusion:

If there is a reason you should watch this adaptation, it is because of Timothy Dalton (need I say more?). However, with the exception of the Moor House episodes, the parts without Timothy Dalton aren't very enjoyable because the adaptation is too focused on replicating every little detail within the book. In addition, the blurry video quality and dated, stagey sets mean that I will only recommend this show for purists/people who have already read the book. In sum, despite faithfulness to the story, our heroine is not compelling enough for this story to be named after her.

@appleinducedsleep @dahlia-coccinea @princesssarisa @notherealjaneyre

#jane eyre #timothy dalton #movie review #mr rochester #tv show #book adaptation #charlotte bronte #jane eyre 2011 #jane eyre movie #jane eyre 2006

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