Like other 'dominant' cultures, or ex-imperial cultures, some fair play that British favourite is more fair than others. That 'Jane Eyre' is practically a part of our national identity is an example of not so fair play. Jean Rhys, who wrote "Wide Sargasso Sea", certainly thought so: it's clear historically that she brooded and brooded on how she might tell a different story; how she might address the imbalance of the unfair representation of Creole people as shown in 'Jane Eyre'.
Rhys takes a story which the British might be said to have taken to their hearts, and turns you around and around it, and re-presents it to you, stripped of its familiar historical and cultural associations, rendered uneasy, disturbing even, by the lack of a secure, firm, knowledgeable base from which to view the new circumstances. Edward Rochester the hero, the charming and dangerous man, the verbose, quick-witted soul-mate of poor, plain Jane Eyre: take him out of his moral context, Victorian Britain; take away his supports: his house, his past, his father; put him in a place where only lately has the abomination called slavery come to a formal end; where plants threaten to engulf you, where beauty is intoxicating, and where one's reputation swims in the hot breeze; and you create a different man.
In laying bare the horror that lies underneath a great Gothic romance story, Rhys was stripping our eyes of its assorted veils. It seems to me that in this world she creates, Rochester is Britain; and Antoinette is the West Indies: beautiful, exotic, other, misunderstood, abused, damaged, robbed, abandoned by the curiosity, idleness, greed and arrogance of a people who thought themselves superior.
More fool me: I haven't read the book; so I have no idea how faithful or otherwise this adaptation is to it. It looked good; it kept you watching; it was well cast. Most importantly, it brings this unique perspective to vibrant life. "Wide Sargasso Sea" serves to remind me that Antoinette's story, her background, her upbringing, her life and what happens to her, is just as much a part of my British 'heritage' as the wild moorland and English gentleman's world of Edward Rochester in 'Jane Eyre'. What Antoinette becomes is monstrous. Slavery was monstrous, and the wholesale rape of the Caribbean for the profit of the very few was equally monstrous. But handsome Rochester is monstrous too: the callous appetites of the society of which he is part help make him so.
This certainly makes for uneasy viewing; the altered angle is deeply unsettling, and uncovers some decidedly unpleasant truths about the attitudes of Victorian men or of white people you might say. You won't forget this version of events: it alters forever the place Mr Rochester occupies in literary, romantic and even social history. But most importantly, it tells HER story. Jane Eyre was poor, plain and little. Antoinette was rich, beautiful, and tall. But both were victims of other people's appetites and greed. This drama showed this expertly.
Rhys takes a story which the British might be said to have taken to their hearts, and turns you around and around it, and re-presents it to you, stripped of its familiar historical and cultural associations, rendered uneasy, disturbing even, by the lack of a secure, firm, knowledgeable base from which to view the new circumstances. Edward Rochester the hero, the charming and dangerous man, the verbose, quick-witted soul-mate of poor, plain Jane Eyre: take him out of his moral context, Victorian Britain; take away his supports: his house, his past, his father; put him in a place where only lately has the abomination called slavery come to a formal end; where plants threaten to engulf you, where beauty is intoxicating, and where one's reputation swims in the hot breeze; and you create a different man.
In laying bare the horror that lies underneath a great Gothic romance story, Rhys was stripping our eyes of its assorted veils. It seems to me that in this world she creates, Rochester is Britain; and Antoinette is the West Indies: beautiful, exotic, other, misunderstood, abused, damaged, robbed, abandoned by the curiosity, idleness, greed and arrogance of a people who thought themselves superior.
More fool me: I haven't read the book; so I have no idea how faithful or otherwise this adaptation is to it. It looked good; it kept you watching; it was well cast. Most importantly, it brings this unique perspective to vibrant life. "Wide Sargasso Sea" serves to remind me that Antoinette's story, her background, her upbringing, her life and what happens to her, is just as much a part of my British 'heritage' as the wild moorland and English gentleman's world of Edward Rochester in 'Jane Eyre'. What Antoinette becomes is monstrous. Slavery was monstrous, and the wholesale rape of the Caribbean for the profit of the very few was equally monstrous. But handsome Rochester is monstrous too: the callous appetites of the society of which he is part help make him so.
This certainly makes for uneasy viewing; the altered angle is deeply unsettling, and uncovers some decidedly unpleasant truths about the attitudes of Victorian men or of white people you might say. You won't forget this version of events: it alters forever the place Mr Rochester occupies in literary, romantic and even social history. But most importantly, it tells HER story. Jane Eyre was poor, plain and little. Antoinette was rich, beautiful, and tall. But both were victims of other people's appetites and greed. This drama showed this expertly.