Last week Pat, of the Weaver of Grass blog, wondered what other bloggers thought of the new film version of Emily Bronte's 'Wuthering Heights.' Exiled Yorkshire woman that I am, I went to see it this week. It is filmed in a landscape that I know well, and, dear me, there was an awful lot of weather, altogether far too much wuthering.
Once again we have a film that only depicts the first half of the book, stopping before there is any mention of the further generation and the sad outcome of obsession and revenge. I have always found it strange that this story is described as one of love. Examples are given of Heathcliff's cruelty in the film, but, oh, he looks drop dead gorgeous in his white shirt (and equally so without it!)
I thought that it was perfect to cast a black actor in the role, wholly plausible given that he is described in the book as being dark skinned and was found as a child wandering the streets of the great seaport city of Liverpool.
I don't know anyone from Yorkshire daft enough to roll in a peat bog who would then scrub up quite so well as these actors, and for goodness sake WILL SOMEONE HOLD THAT CAMERA STEADY!
Verdict, a tad indulgent, but , oh, my homeland is beautiful, even when it's wuthering!
We used to have a Dobermann whom my father named, 'Keeper' after the dog in 'Wuthering Heights'. Keeper did not like men in hats and lived up to his namesake well, so far as the postman was concerned, stalking him up and down our long drive, growling in a quiet but threatening manner. One day the postman threw his cap at Keeper and that marked the end of good behaviour. Post then became a bit erratic, with letters arriving a day late, bearing the pencilled message, 'dog out, could not deliver.'
T'other side o't dale 's
a veil o' milky 'ue
as you an' I an' t' dog
on t' peat moor top can view,
a sky awash wi' pink.
An' everythin' takes on a magic glow
as walkin' ower tops we go.
On the tops (in a bit of weather) with Keeper and Michele. Jan. 1960.