According to a friend’s recommendation, I watched “Becoming Jane” tonight. The film, as listed on IMDB, is a biographical portrait of a pre-fame Jane Austen and her romance with a young Irishman Mr. Tom Lefroy.
I am not an avid reader to Jane Austen’s work. At least not yet. I was introduced to her only a month ago through the 2005 adaptation of “Pride and Prejudice” by Keira Knightley. Since then however, I’ve been charmed by the world she creates. Perhaps it’s inevitable that everyone-who-reads will fancy Austen’s writings once in a lifetime at the very least. And although, as I mentioned, I have only seen and read one novel of hers, but she struck me with how eloquently she wrote about this part of us we try to hide, despite our wishes for someone to observe and admire.. just the way we are..
Back to “Becoming Jane”, I must say that I was taken by surprise. The film is sadly ironic. I never thought that the person, who wrote profoundly about love, was deeply wounded in her life time. It raised an old question of mine which is if, it’s been universally acknowledged that, life doesn’t have happy endings, then why do novels have? And why does living in this part of the world indispensably mean never to have similar stories in life even with sad endings?..
A last reading | Adrian Johnston | Becoming Jane OST
* The title was said by Mr. Wisley in the film. And though it may not be relevant, I still wanted to use it as a title for this post.