#letteredlettered

“Excellent,” said Zabini. “Death is unpleasant to me. I’m determined to avoid it.” “That’s going to be difficult,” Harry said. “Life is a sexually transmitted disease that is, in the end, fatal.” Zabini said. “I plan to have as little to do with it as possible.” Harry was startled into laughing. Resolving not to think about Hermione and Ron, he said, “What do you do?” “I warned you,” Pansy told Zabini, in her bored tone. “He’s not very quick.” “Nothing at all, if I can possibly help it,” said Zabini. When Harry continued to look confused, Pansy smirked. “He’s a professional gentleman, Harry.” Harry looked at Zabini in surprise. “You’re a hooker?” Zabini burst out laughing, a rich deep sound. Pansy just smirked. “Don’t you just wish,” she said. “I have no profession,” Zabini said, still smiling a brilliant smile. “I am a landowner. I live with my mother. I practise ennui.” Harry frowned. “It’s not hard.” Zabini laughed again. “I don’t suppose it is, but I would venture to say that you haven’t mastered it.” “Blaise is arrogant,” Pansy said. “And he’s an arse. I like him very much.”

“Okay.” Harry glanced at Pansy and Blaise, who were nattering on about ballrooms and the length of skirts. He turned back to Teddy. “Here’s an abstract for you, since you’re smart. Do you believe in conscience?” Teddy quirked his brow again. “Do you mean, an innate understanding of and urge toward right versus wrong?” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.” Teddy blinked. “No.” “Then why do people think they have one?” His brow furrowing as he considered his reply, Teddy said at last, “Society breaks down if everyone thieves, murders, rapes, and pillages, and society benefits most individuals.” He shrugged. “People have developed conscience to benefit themselves.” Harry glanced at Pansy and Blaise again. When he caught Pansy’s eye, she blushed. In her slow and slothful way, she turned back to Blaise, but the colour stayed on her cheeks. Harry turned back to Teddy. “Then people do have it.” “Many people do. Some learn it. Some never do. It’s just like social cues, or a will to live. These things aren’t moral imperatives. They’re not even magic. They’re survival instincts.” “Where does magic fit in?” “Magic is a survival instinct too.” Teddy shrugged again. “People developed a sense of sight to better interact with their world. Lesser creatures don’t have eyes. People also developed a sense of magic.”

“Neville, it’s not like you’re holding a grudge,” Harry said. “It’s not like you’re a bad person just because you can’t forget that . . .” Harry knew he had to say it; he had to say it, or he’d be lying to himself, and Neville, and even to everyone―to Malfoy―and that wasn’t fair. “Because you can’t forget that someone tortured you, or tortured someone you love. If you were Bellatrix, right now―I couldn’t forgive you.” “It’s not forgiveness.” Neville ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just the forgetting part that’s hard.” Harry looked at him a while, Neville’s strong, kind face; his large, capable hands. “Malfoy says, don’t forget. He says we shouldn’t forget, so that it can’t happen again, and that’s how we make the world a better place.” Neville looked startled, then smiled a little, wryly. “Harry,” he said. “Do you even realize how many times Malfoy has said to me, ‘Potter says’?”

I like Hurt but found him to be too much in his head and lacking in delight. Like, I want Rochester to be like WTF, JANE but also, wtf, Jane, I’ve been in an anxiety brood-coma for twenty years and I found my mouth twitching the other day and is that smiling? I’m going to do some weird shit now that’s flirting but also, please ignore the woman in the attic. Hurt didn’t look like the sort of man who would be stupid enough to keep a madwoman in the attic. So X to you, Academy Award winner William Hurt. You looked too much like a constipated accountant.

Orson Welles–and I saw this version when I was a child so this a child’s hot take–has a very large head and made me laugh, because he is funny and smart, but he was also not into the actress playing Jane, not even a little bit. In other words: nope, bye.

HINDS. Yes, you’re right. He is the best Wentworth, now and forever, like Cats. But I do love his Rochester because he’s super fucking weird and shouty and like, clearly not that Great with People but everyone sort of puts up with him because he’s somewhat respectable. Once he starts feeling Jane, he’s desperate and sweaty in a perfectly uptight way. Everything is liKE tHiS; he can’t calibrate shit. He swipes the hair out of his eyes, he poses weirdly. When he smiles, it’s a little scary. He makes really bad moves–which! are! the canon! moves!–but it all tracks with this interpretation. He is good looking sometimes but not really all the time, distractable but also keenly focused on the wrong thing. This is absolutely the sort of idiot who would keep a madwoman in the attic and be like, that is a good long term plan. He looks like he talks to himself because there’s no one else really. Until Jane. Who doesn’t react the way other people do to him.

Samantha Morton was his Jane and while I liked her a lot; she has a lovely, grave, feral quality–you believe her rage, she’s still very actress beautiful though. And that’s the thing, nearly all of the Janes are porcelain doll pretty. So whenever that rando lady who Rochester pretends to be into for a minute shows up, there’s never any real fear–they are always just as gorgeous. They’re wearing less make-up and their gown is drab, that’s the only difference. I personally, love the contrast of seeing this person who is supposed to be a perfect catch for Rochester, all beauty and polish, standing next to Jane. I think it is an important moment for Jane, how she views herself, and for Rochester, how he sees her. In my mind, she is quite different in both.