Frances O’Connor was a 15-year-old pupil at an all-girls Catholic school when she first read Wuthering Heights on the hour-long bus journey to and from her home in the hills outside Perth, Western Australia. “It was the feeling of the elements, and the environment, that I recognised so strongly from my own childhood,” she says. “I remember not wanting to leave that windy, gothic, slightly supernatural place to go back to the real world.”
She also loved “just how kickass Cathy and Heathcliff were – that feeling of being misunderstood and not belonging. As a teenager, their rebelliousness really spoke to me.” Forty years later, she has brought those sense memories to a story about the novel’s author Emily Brontë, in a directorial debut that she expects to enrage some purists while hoping it will inspire a new generation of young women as the novel once inspired her. [...]
Emily is not a conventional biopic, a fact it signals early on with a creepy mask-play in which Emily (played by Sex Education’s Emma Mackey) freaks out her siblings by appearing to invoke the spirit of their dead mother. “Anyone who gets past the mask scene and thinks they’re still watching a biopic is probably in the wrong movie,” says O’Connor. The question that drives it is how the prickly recluse of historical record, holed up with her siblings in a parsonage (apart from a brief, disastrous stint as a schoolteacher), could have been able to summon such passion not only in her single novel but in her poetry.
O’Connor’s answer is to pair her up with one of the six curates who joined the Brontë household over the years: a man so beloved by the parishioners that he was memorialised by them, after his untimely death from cholera, in a plaque on the wall of Haworth church. William Weightman, it reads, was a man of “orthodox principles, active zeal, moral habits, learning, mildness and affability” – not the qualities that are brought most quickly to mind by Oliver Jackson-Cohen’s lusty portrayal.
Yes, but wasn’t it Anne Brontë with whom Weightman was thought to have had a romantic entanglement? “It is, but if you read up on it it’s disputed. There was one comment from Charlotte and that’s it,” says O’Connor, who cites a range of Brontë studies, not least one by Lucasta Miller, which argued that each age recreates the family in its own image. This may be fiction, but it has been conscientiously thought through.
O’Connor traces the seeds of the film back to the late 1990s, when she was in London as the lead in a star-studded film of Mansfield Park. Finding herself at a loose end when the writer-director went off sick for a fortnight, she jumped on a train to Haworth. “I was so in love with acting that I didn’t even think of directing. But I did think this is such an evocative place, and they’re such interesting characters. I felt a little bit close to them in a way, and there was something that was very cool about that. It just really piqued my imagination.” [...]
Emily was filmed on a shoestring, leaning heavily on the photogenically weather-racked landscapes of Yorkshire and Cumbria. A Cumbrian manor house stood in for Haworth parsonage. “There was this one windy road in and out of the house, but what’s interesting about it is that it was actually one of the things that inspired Emily to write Wuthering Heights because it was owned by a rum-trading colonist, and there was rumour that there was a slave who died there. I’m pretty sure it was haunted,” she says.
One theme that underpins the film is how hard it is for women to claim centre stage and how they edit their own lives to make themselves presentable. After the outcry that greeted publication of their novels, Charlotte Brontë devoted herself to curating the sisters’ reputation, with the result that nobody really knows the truth of them, says O’Connor. “I feel like Emily has been edited for a lot of her life. This is me taking her and putting her in the centre of her own story.”
She particularly hopes it will connect with young viewers, as a portrait of an original who followed her desires and her creativity. “In some ways this is a good time to be a woman: I see a younger generation coming up who are very forthright in terms of asking for what they want, in a way that maybe my generation didn’t,” she says. “But there’s always a gap between who women really are and who they’re supposed to be.” (Claire Armistead)
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