Emily (Film Review)
Jun. 20th, 2023 11:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
selenakThe trailer put me off, and so did the first few reviews despite them being universally popular (because of what they praised made very clear it had little to nothing to do with the Brontes' actual lives), so I didn't watch it in the cinema, but as chance would have it, there was an occasional for me to watch Emily. Overall: I can see why the reviewers who praised it loved it so much, and I do wish Frances O'Connor, who wrote and directed it, had done an adaption of Wuthering Heights instead, because she evidently can do violent emotions and complicated relationships and loves the book to bits. But it really does have little to do with what we know of the historical people depicted in it, little as that is in the case of Emily Bronte.
To get out the more technical stuff first: don't bother trying to apply a timeline to this movie, because it mixes and mingles and alters the dates of various Bronte family events - thus Branwell has his affair with a married woman before working for the railway company, Emily writes Wuthering Heights after Branwell's death (as opposed to it being published already at that point), and while we're at it, writes and publishes it before either Anne writes Agnes Grey or Charlotte writes Jane Eyre. Now I wouldn't hold that by itself against the film, because I'd rather have a biopic or tv show which gets the personalities over one that checks all the dates correctly but offers no life of its own and feels more like a failed docudrama. But the deeper problem is that all these changes are in service to the film's central need to not only have Emily write Wuthering Heights inspired by events of her own life but have her life fit WH. This kind of retro-flection of a work of art on the life of its creator is awkward enough when it's Jane Austen going through various of the plot of Pride and Prejudice, which she really really did not, but it order to make it work for Emily Bronte, nearly every relationship and person has to be rewritten. Now, it's not that Frances O'Connor does this without finesse. There's no direct Heathcliff-and-Cathy transposition; while she gives Emily an invented affair with William Weightman, Reverend Willy isn Heathcliff. He at times seems to resemble Edgar Linton (if anyone from WH), and it's Emily herself who at different times echoes Heathcliff or Cathy, while the early Heathcliff-and-Cathy relationship is mirrored by Emily's relationship with Branwell instead. This is more complicated than I had expected from the trailer, but it still has nothing to do with the originals and doesn't lessen the general problem of a "female creator is revealed to have created most famous work based on events of own life" premise which rarely if ever fails to annoy me.
Saving Emily's characterisation for later, let's next talk about the way everyone else is characterised in order to fit the Wutheringiszation of Emily's life. Poor Anne got the axe, mostly, because while one of the few facts we can be sure about re: Emily Bronte's life is that she was the sibling Emily was closest to, had the most intense relationship with and collaborated with through most of their lives as a writer, the plot needs Emily to have these kind of relationships with Charlotte and Branwell instead, so Anne early on declines to continue playing Gondal with with Emily and is hardly seen again until the last eight or so minutes of the movie, when she still gets to be mostly background. Then there's Patrick. Given WH requires an at the very least stern if not abusive authority figure, Patrick is back to being Mrs Gaskell's ogre of a misanthropic preacher and unloving father (to Emily, except for the last five minutes, he's a bit more approving of Charlotte and Branwell at the start). He spouts fire-and-brimstome sermons as if he were Joseph from Wuthering Heights (this is also necessary to make Wiliam Weightman's kinder sermons attractive to Emily), disapproves of anyone reading anything "sinful", and the sole reason why Charlotte becomes a teacher and wants Emily to become one despite neither of them being suited for it, the reason why Charlotte has given up writing (!) until Emily's death and last wish has her go back to it is because Patrick the Victorian tyrant wants his daughters to become respectable teachers (something not even Mrs. Gaskell accused him of).
(Compare and contrast the excellent Bronte movie To Walk Invisible where the sisters get across to the audience why despite none of them liking teaching and governessing they still take those jobs: their entire income and housing depends on their father, and the moment Patrick dies there won't be any more house - which is Church of England property - or money. They can't rely on Branwell to support them, either. None of them expects to marry. Ergo, they need to earn a living themselves.)
As for the kind of clergyman Patrick Bronte was: not the fire and brimstome type. His advice when the abused wife of an alcoholic husband came to him was to leave her husband, take the kids and return to her parents, not sticking it out with her supposed lord and master. He was an avid social compaigner for most of his life, writing endless letters and organizing petitions because he thought the penal law code which punished murder and small types of thievery equally was unfair and counterproductive as it encouraged the killing of witnesses. And far from censoring his children's reading, he let them read the same newspapers he did - including their beloved "Blackwell's Magazine" which they modelled their early writings after -, and such controversial for his time authors like Byron in addition to the entire Shakespeare.
Now you can actually make a case for Branwell's real life troubles having found their way into both Wuthering Heights and Anne's Wildfell Hall - to be specific: his self destructive final three years of drinking himself to death, see both Hindley in Wuthering Heights and Arthur in Wildfell Hall. Emily certainly knew what it was like to live with an addict in the household. But Branwell's writing partner during their childhood and early adulthood was Charlotte, like Emily's was Anne, and while you can make a case that Emily was up to do date about what was going on in her siblings' fictional world of Angria from her two preserved diary papers (which reference Angrian events as much as Gondalians along with her real life) and thus Branwell showing her the occasional story (since Charlotte wasn't at home most of the time) is plausible enough, there's zero evidence the two of them were ever particularly close. (Let alone running across the moors together and observing respectable neighbours and making fun of them through the window a la young Cathy and Heathcliff.) Again, the entire relationship they have in the film hails from the central premise - Emily wrote WH inspired by her own life - and Branwell being the only boy whom Emily did grow up with.
Charlotte fares better than I had expected from the reviews, which had made me fear she's presented as a one dimensional jealous shrew. Which isn't the case. The film establishes in its first ten minutes that she and Emily used to be very close and created together, but that Charlotte, returning from her school a la Cathy from Thruscross Grange, is determined to be respectable now. (This is when Emily is Heathcliff to Charlotte's returning Cathy, being suddenly called wild and strange because she's used toEdgar and Isabella Ellen Nussey.) But the film does make clear Charlotte, played by Alexandra Dowling (aka the Master's wife Lucy from Doctor Who), is doing this out of a combination of yearning for stern Dad's love and social approval and will come to bitterly regret it, and while there is jealousy (precisely because Charlotte in this movie has cut herself off from writing) there is also fierce love for Emily throughout. And they don't compete for William Weightman, thank God. While the film starts with the annoying "how did you do it, Emily, how could you write Wuthering Heights?" from Charlotte, it ends with the reveal of the dying Emily's last words, which were the wish for Charlotte to write again, and Charlotte beginning to do just that. I mean, it's still all invented (Charlotte kept writing Angrian stories throughout her time at Roe Head and cursed her students for interrupting her writing, and while she eventually left Angria behind, she never "stopped" writing altogether), but it's more interesting a characterisation than I had feared, and as I mentioned, I do appreciate that there isn't one Heathcliff and Cathy analogue in this movie but several situations and relationships among the Brontes each carrying different echoes. Plus the film's Emily and Charlotte relationship results in the movie's most outstanding scenes which gets mentioned in practically every review, and no wonder. It's also Frances O'Connor the writer and director managing to create something that really does work as something emotionally violent with supernatural overtones which could also be entirely psychological on a Bronte-esque levell, and that's a big reason why I wish she'd adopted the novel instead of making this film.
What she did: picking one of the best known Bronte childhood anecdotes - Patrick handing a masque to each his children so they can speak freely - and transport it to the adult times, at a point in the first third of the film where various plot threads come together. It's been established that no one has really gotten over the death of their mother because they don't talk about her, Emily is increasingly irritated and disappointed enough by Charlotte now judging her as "strange" and Anne having turned away from Gondal as well, and the newly arrived William Weightman is also throwing her off balance. The mask is making the rounds among the young people (no Patrick present anymore, he's withdrawn) and they use it in a charade kind of way, playing "who am I?", and the others have to guess. (Charlotte pretends to be Marie Antoinette.) After one condescending remark too many, Emily does take the mask and starts to speak as their dead mother, and she does it so intensely that you really can't tell whether she's doing this to get back at Charlotte and Anne or whether she has truly been taken over by her mother's spirit, in just the same way where the famous opening chapter of Wuthering Heights with the ghostly appearance of the child Catherine could be Lockwood's nightmare or a truly supernatural event, with amazing cruelty (Lockwood rubbing the arm of the child ghost across broken glass in order to get free) that has its equivalent here in Emily continuing well past the point where Charlotte, Anne and Branwell have lost it entirely until William Weightman pulls her out of it and puts an end to the scene. Like I said, there's a reason this scene gets mentioned in all reviews - it really is that good.
Sadly, otherwise the idea of Emily's "strangeness" in the movie is your standard "spirited woman in Victorian times" thing. While we don't see her write until near the end (when it's implied she writes WH in one big rush after Branwell's death), we do hear the occasional verse from her poetry, spoken slightly breathless, but the movie makes no attempt to show the act of writing, redrafting, composition, and instead shows Emily running across the moors, twirling, and having a sexual affair with Reverend Willy who temporarily withdraws because her sensuality shocks him that much. (No mention why Weightman, if he's in love with Emily, does not attempt to court her in the open in order to marry her. Now the movie could mention there's the problem of neither of them having any money, but it doesn't, just as the money factor is never offered as an explanation as to why all the sisters need to have a job given that no one could have known Patrick would survive all his children as opposed to the other way around.) Because free love is the only or at least the biggest way a woman can be a rebellious spirit in Victorian times, don't you know.
As to William Weightman: we don't know much more about the historical version than that he was a cheerful, kind curate who was universally popular at Haworth during his time there, and that Charlotte in one letter to her friend Ellen jokes about him and Anne being "a picture", hinting that they might be in love. Since in the same letter she also jokes about Ellen and Weightman, that doesn't necessarily have to mean she was right about this, but at least there's the possibility of Anne/Willy W. documented. Juliet Barker also makes the case that Charlotte was a bit too over invested in reporting on William W. to Ellen and might have had some tender feelings herself. Branwell considered him a friend and was present (and crushed) when he died. The one Bronte sibling about whose feelings for William W. we don't have any documentation whatsoever? Emily. So naturally, film!William is her Edgar Linton, and once her Cathy, because in an obvious echo to Heathcliff overhearing Cathy telling Nelly it would degrade her to marry him but not of her passionate declaration of her love for him because he leaves immediately, Weightman after having broken up with Emily due to his shock about her sensuality is remorseful when she's about to depart to Brussels with Charlotte and hands over a letter to Branwell expressing his regret and love, only for Branwell, who's had his own argument with Emily by then (about his writing, because a hurt-by-Weightman Emily proceeded to hurt Branwell in turn by telling him the truth about his writing, that it's not good enough) and is also jealous, to keep the letter, whereupon Emily leaves a la Heathcliff without knowing Weightman still loves her and Weightman dies as Cathy in the novel almost does at the equivalent plot point.
Again, so he can fulfill the WH required plot, William Weightman now is is a young man both attracted and repelled by Emily's fierceness and shocked by the emotions she triggers in him. Other than him being a kinder kind of Christian than film!Patrick and looking good, it's not clear why Emily should care, though then again, I suppose the film uses the same kind of reasoning Cathy gives to Nelly when asked why Edgar Linton - there might be other nice good looking men loving her around, but they're not in the neighbourhood.
Lastly: it's not unique to this film, and I can understand the rl reasons (film shooting with animals is always more difficult and expensive) but I was struck by the utter lack of pets in the film Bronte household. In rl, Emily had a big dog and two falcons, Anne had a pet dog of her own, and I think Aunt Branwell had a dog, too, though I'm not sure about the last one. The parsonage wasn't an ultra quiet household, and those dogs were bound to show up and do as dogs do all the time. But presumably this would not have fit with the image of a fire and brimstone! parsonage, in addition to requiring additional money and effort at filming.
I'm trying to decide whether or not the film would have worked for me if I had known nothing about the Brontes, because it does have intense sibling relationships (Emily & Charlotte, Emily & Branwell), for which a I have a soft spot, and while Emma Mackey running around mostly with unbound hair would have stricken me as anachronistic then, too, I would not have spluttered "WTF?" at scenes like when the copies of Wuthering Heights arrive, with "Emily Bronte" named as the author (as opposed to Ellis Bell), without the earlier publication of their poetry the sisters did, and no Agnes Grey or Jane Eyre in sight. Maybe. Who knows. Then again, I loved the first season of The Borgias despite being entirely aware of all the historical liberties taken. So I'm stuck with concluding that I can't root for this directed-and-written-and-centred on a woman cinematic enterprise like I wish I could.
To get out the more technical stuff first: don't bother trying to apply a timeline to this movie, because it mixes and mingles and alters the dates of various Bronte family events - thus Branwell has his affair with a married woman before working for the railway company, Emily writes Wuthering Heights after Branwell's death (as opposed to it being published already at that point), and while we're at it, writes and publishes it before either Anne writes Agnes Grey or Charlotte writes Jane Eyre. Now I wouldn't hold that by itself against the film, because I'd rather have a biopic or tv show which gets the personalities over one that checks all the dates correctly but offers no life of its own and feels more like a failed docudrama. But the deeper problem is that all these changes are in service to the film's central need to not only have Emily write Wuthering Heights inspired by events of her own life but have her life fit WH. This kind of retro-flection of a work of art on the life of its creator is awkward enough when it's Jane Austen going through various of the plot of Pride and Prejudice, which she really really did not, but it order to make it work for Emily Bronte, nearly every relationship and person has to be rewritten. Now, it's not that Frances O'Connor does this without finesse. There's no direct Heathcliff-and-Cathy transposition; while she gives Emily an invented affair with William Weightman, Reverend Willy isn Heathcliff. He at times seems to resemble Edgar Linton (if anyone from WH), and it's Emily herself who at different times echoes Heathcliff or Cathy, while the early Heathcliff-and-Cathy relationship is mirrored by Emily's relationship with Branwell instead. This is more complicated than I had expected from the trailer, but it still has nothing to do with the originals and doesn't lessen the general problem of a "female creator is revealed to have created most famous work based on events of own life" premise which rarely if ever fails to annoy me.
Saving Emily's characterisation for later, let's next talk about the way everyone else is characterised in order to fit the Wutheringiszation of Emily's life. Poor Anne got the axe, mostly, because while one of the few facts we can be sure about re: Emily Bronte's life is that she was the sibling Emily was closest to, had the most intense relationship with and collaborated with through most of their lives as a writer, the plot needs Emily to have these kind of relationships with Charlotte and Branwell instead, so Anne early on declines to continue playing Gondal with with Emily and is hardly seen again until the last eight or so minutes of the movie, when she still gets to be mostly background. Then there's Patrick. Given WH requires an at the very least stern if not abusive authority figure, Patrick is back to being Mrs Gaskell's ogre of a misanthropic preacher and unloving father (to Emily, except for the last five minutes, he's a bit more approving of Charlotte and Branwell at the start). He spouts fire-and-brimstome sermons as if he were Joseph from Wuthering Heights (this is also necessary to make Wiliam Weightman's kinder sermons attractive to Emily), disapproves of anyone reading anything "sinful", and the sole reason why Charlotte becomes a teacher and wants Emily to become one despite neither of them being suited for it, the reason why Charlotte has given up writing (!) until Emily's death and last wish has her go back to it is because Patrick the Victorian tyrant wants his daughters to become respectable teachers (something not even Mrs. Gaskell accused him of).
(Compare and contrast the excellent Bronte movie To Walk Invisible where the sisters get across to the audience why despite none of them liking teaching and governessing they still take those jobs: their entire income and housing depends on their father, and the moment Patrick dies there won't be any more house - which is Church of England property - or money. They can't rely on Branwell to support them, either. None of them expects to marry. Ergo, they need to earn a living themselves.)
As for the kind of clergyman Patrick Bronte was: not the fire and brimstome type. His advice when the abused wife of an alcoholic husband came to him was to leave her husband, take the kids and return to her parents, not sticking it out with her supposed lord and master. He was an avid social compaigner for most of his life, writing endless letters and organizing petitions because he thought the penal law code which punished murder and small types of thievery equally was unfair and counterproductive as it encouraged the killing of witnesses. And far from censoring his children's reading, he let them read the same newspapers he did - including their beloved "Blackwell's Magazine" which they modelled their early writings after -, and such controversial for his time authors like Byron in addition to the entire Shakespeare.
Now you can actually make a case for Branwell's real life troubles having found their way into both Wuthering Heights and Anne's Wildfell Hall - to be specific: his self destructive final three years of drinking himself to death, see both Hindley in Wuthering Heights and Arthur in Wildfell Hall. Emily certainly knew what it was like to live with an addict in the household. But Branwell's writing partner during their childhood and early adulthood was Charlotte, like Emily's was Anne, and while you can make a case that Emily was up to do date about what was going on in her siblings' fictional world of Angria from her two preserved diary papers (which reference Angrian events as much as Gondalians along with her real life) and thus Branwell showing her the occasional story (since Charlotte wasn't at home most of the time) is plausible enough, there's zero evidence the two of them were ever particularly close. (Let alone running across the moors together and observing respectable neighbours and making fun of them through the window a la young Cathy and Heathcliff.) Again, the entire relationship they have in the film hails from the central premise - Emily wrote WH inspired by her own life - and Branwell being the only boy whom Emily did grow up with.
Charlotte fares better than I had expected from the reviews, which had made me fear she's presented as a one dimensional jealous shrew. Which isn't the case. The film establishes in its first ten minutes that she and Emily used to be very close and created together, but that Charlotte, returning from her school a la Cathy from Thruscross Grange, is determined to be respectable now. (This is when Emily is Heathcliff to Charlotte's returning Cathy, being suddenly called wild and strange because she's used to
What she did: picking one of the best known Bronte childhood anecdotes - Patrick handing a masque to each his children so they can speak freely - and transport it to the adult times, at a point in the first third of the film where various plot threads come together. It's been established that no one has really gotten over the death of their mother because they don't talk about her, Emily is increasingly irritated and disappointed enough by Charlotte now judging her as "strange" and Anne having turned away from Gondal as well, and the newly arrived William Weightman is also throwing her off balance. The mask is making the rounds among the young people (no Patrick present anymore, he's withdrawn) and they use it in a charade kind of way, playing "who am I?", and the others have to guess. (Charlotte pretends to be Marie Antoinette.) After one condescending remark too many, Emily does take the mask and starts to speak as their dead mother, and she does it so intensely that you really can't tell whether she's doing this to get back at Charlotte and Anne or whether she has truly been taken over by her mother's spirit, in just the same way where the famous opening chapter of Wuthering Heights with the ghostly appearance of the child Catherine could be Lockwood's nightmare or a truly supernatural event, with amazing cruelty (Lockwood rubbing the arm of the child ghost across broken glass in order to get free) that has its equivalent here in Emily continuing well past the point where Charlotte, Anne and Branwell have lost it entirely until William Weightman pulls her out of it and puts an end to the scene. Like I said, there's a reason this scene gets mentioned in all reviews - it really is that good.
Sadly, otherwise the idea of Emily's "strangeness" in the movie is your standard "spirited woman in Victorian times" thing. While we don't see her write until near the end (when it's implied she writes WH in one big rush after Branwell's death), we do hear the occasional verse from her poetry, spoken slightly breathless, but the movie makes no attempt to show the act of writing, redrafting, composition, and instead shows Emily running across the moors, twirling, and having a sexual affair with Reverend Willy who temporarily withdraws because her sensuality shocks him that much. (No mention why Weightman, if he's in love with Emily, does not attempt to court her in the open in order to marry her. Now the movie could mention there's the problem of neither of them having any money, but it doesn't, just as the money factor is never offered as an explanation as to why all the sisters need to have a job given that no one could have known Patrick would survive all his children as opposed to the other way around.) Because free love is the only or at least the biggest way a woman can be a rebellious spirit in Victorian times, don't you know.
As to William Weightman: we don't know much more about the historical version than that he was a cheerful, kind curate who was universally popular at Haworth during his time there, and that Charlotte in one letter to her friend Ellen jokes about him and Anne being "a picture", hinting that they might be in love. Since in the same letter she also jokes about Ellen and Weightman, that doesn't necessarily have to mean she was right about this, but at least there's the possibility of Anne/Willy W. documented. Juliet Barker also makes the case that Charlotte was a bit too over invested in reporting on William W. to Ellen and might have had some tender feelings herself. Branwell considered him a friend and was present (and crushed) when he died. The one Bronte sibling about whose feelings for William W. we don't have any documentation whatsoever? Emily. So naturally, film!William is her Edgar Linton, and once her Cathy, because in an obvious echo to Heathcliff overhearing Cathy telling Nelly it would degrade her to marry him but not of her passionate declaration of her love for him because he leaves immediately, Weightman after having broken up with Emily due to his shock about her sensuality is remorseful when she's about to depart to Brussels with Charlotte and hands over a letter to Branwell expressing his regret and love, only for Branwell, who's had his own argument with Emily by then (about his writing, because a hurt-by-Weightman Emily proceeded to hurt Branwell in turn by telling him the truth about his writing, that it's not good enough) and is also jealous, to keep the letter, whereupon Emily leaves a la Heathcliff without knowing Weightman still loves her and Weightman dies as Cathy in the novel almost does at the equivalent plot point.
Again, so he can fulfill the WH required plot, William Weightman now is is a young man both attracted and repelled by Emily's fierceness and shocked by the emotions she triggers in him. Other than him being a kinder kind of Christian than film!Patrick and looking good, it's not clear why Emily should care, though then again, I suppose the film uses the same kind of reasoning Cathy gives to Nelly when asked why Edgar Linton - there might be other nice good looking men loving her around, but they're not in the neighbourhood.
Lastly: it's not unique to this film, and I can understand the rl reasons (film shooting with animals is always more difficult and expensive) but I was struck by the utter lack of pets in the film Bronte household. In rl, Emily had a big dog and two falcons, Anne had a pet dog of her own, and I think Aunt Branwell had a dog, too, though I'm not sure about the last one. The parsonage wasn't an ultra quiet household, and those dogs were bound to show up and do as dogs do all the time. But presumably this would not have fit with the image of a fire and brimstone! parsonage, in addition to requiring additional money and effort at filming.
I'm trying to decide whether or not the film would have worked for me if I had known nothing about the Brontes, because it does have intense sibling relationships (Emily & Charlotte, Emily & Branwell), for which a I have a soft spot, and while Emma Mackey running around mostly with unbound hair would have stricken me as anachronistic then, too, I would not have spluttered "WTF?" at scenes like when the copies of Wuthering Heights arrive, with "Emily Bronte" named as the author (as opposed to Ellis Bell), without the earlier publication of their poetry the sisters did, and no Agnes Grey or Jane Eyre in sight. Maybe. Who knows. Then again, I loved the first season of The Borgias despite being entirely aware of all the historical liberties taken. So I'm stuck with concluding that I can't root for this directed-and-written-and-centred on a woman cinematic enterprise like I wish I could.
no subject
Date: 2023-06-20 03:39 pm (UTC)I just cannot stand films about how some woman's life (and it always seems to be a woman) was the inspiration for her writing in a very 1:1 way, because apparently women can't be creative geniuses.
no subject
Date: 2023-06-21 01:43 am (UTC)YES (especially in a movie about EMILY! WTF)
That was of course the big charge against the Brontes in their own time -- that no women could write novels like that, and then when it was discovered they were women who had written novels like that, obviously they weren't really women.
I just cannot stand films about how some woman's life (and it always seems to be a woman) was the inspiration for her writing in a very 1:1 way
I think there's an anecdote where Thackeray tried to introduce Charlotte as "Miss Jane Eyre" to a London gathering, and she refused to acknowledge him until he said her own name, not her creation's.
Charlotte and Thackeray
Date: 2023-06-21 09:15 am (UTC)Also, people actually tinhat-shipped them due to a couple of incredible coincidences:
1) Thackeray was one of the first readers of Jane Eyre due to Charlotte's publisher sending it to him in the hope of a pull quote, and indeed Thackeray loved the book and provided the effusive quote.
2) A grateful Charlotte then dedicated the second edition to Thackeray (since the first one quickly sold out, the second one really followed fast) with a really lengthy and effusive dedication. (It's quoted in its entirety here.
3) Roughly at the same time, Thackeray published Vanity Fair, where, of course, the antiheroine Becky Sharpe is among other things a governess (for a short time).
4) Also at the same time, the news that Thackeray's wife had gone insane got public.
=> People concluded that "Currer Bell" had to be none other than Thackeray's secret mistress and a fired governess of the Thackeray family, who wrote Jane Eyre in revenge as a roman รก clef, with Thackeray retaliating by portraying her as Becky Sharpe.
All this happened before Charlotte ever encountered Thackeray in person, but when her publisher told her about this, she was incredibly embarrassed.
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Date: 2023-06-20 05:29 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2023-06-21 01:40 am (UTC)Oh, not this AGAIN. I thought they had given up the Quest For Emily's Boyfriends.
It sounds like a well-directed, well-acted picture that manages to be more distorted than even the typical Bronte novel/life adaptations (they wrote out ANNE? Really??).
no subject
Date: 2023-06-21 09:22 am (UTC)