The Allure of Jane Eyre

What is it about her that has spawned version after version, movie upon television upon theatre adaptation of her story? Is it the "poor girl makes good" theme, the sexy anti-hero or the blackest of black moments that keeps us coming back to Thornfield Hall?

I watched one of the best versions I have ever seen last night. Masterpiece Theatre put out its latest version, starring Ruth Wilson (who? a newcomer who did a fabulous job) as the plucky, proud, rise-above-disaster Jane, and Toby Stephens (best known as the uber-psycho Gilbert Graves in 007's "Die Another Day") as the dark and brooding Edward Rochester. I predict Ruth Wilson will go on to future acting accolades; she has such sincerity and depth; when she was confessing her feelings to Rochester I was crying right along with her. Toby Stephens was the quintessential Edward, brooding and irritable--but he also was witty and sharp and brought new life into Rochester's character. (As an aside, I don't much care for his looks in general. But he made a seriously hubba-hubba Rochester. Be still, my heart.)

Jane Eyre doesn't just pull at your heartstrings; she rips the thing out of your chest, stomps it to mush then stuffs it back in. Ruthless, uncompromising, tear-jerking, heartbreaking... and we'll go back every time with a smile on our face.