1845 was 175 years ago. Oregon was not even a state. Whereas today we can pleasure ourselves, receive pleasure from others, dance freely and wildly to music, write, publish, cuss, be rude, dress however we want, play sports, run for office, talented and educated women in Victorian England had no such emotional outlets. They had to express their feelings in words, not deeds.

        There’s a scene in the film where Charlotte is sitting in front of a window, rain falling outside, pen and paper before her. The director dwells for about a minute on her face, and you can see the resolution form — she needs a better book, she’s been told they’ll publish her if she writes a better book than her last one (they think she’s a man named Currer Bell), she needs the money to survive — then she dips her pen into a pot of ink and writes, “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.” The first line of Jane Eyre.

        Damn. I had to pause the film for a minute there. We’re not talking about having a word processor where you can cut and paste til you puke. We’re talking about having the foresight and intellect –the sheer genius– to write down exactly what you want to express, the way you want to express it, in the right order, every time your pen hits the paper. Damn.