After I watched To Walk Invisible, written and directed by Sally Wainwright, I got a brief case of Brontë fever, so I read a biography of Emily Brontë and a biography of Charlotte Brontë which made me want to watch To Walk Invisible again. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.
The story tracks a few years in the lives of the family from the time Charlotte is recovering from a hopeless infatuation with a married man, to the death of Branwell. Branwell is brilliantly played by Adam Nagaitis, and his slow self-destruction is a major part of the story, In fact, some reviewers have complained that there is too much Branwell in a film that is supposed to be about the Brontë sisters. Perhaps so, but the misery of the family during Branwell's fatal slide into addiction is an integral part of their lives. Charlotte biographer Claire Harman notes that the sisters knew that Branwell, being the only boy, was the favourite of his father. In the film, the girls look at their father with silent resignation when he expresses, yet again, his hope that Branwell will pull himself together. Branwell had the freedom to pursue many careers; he squandered all his chances.
Charlotte seethes with resentment at the restrictions placed on her by society, and Anne is worried about their precarious financial future...
The story tracks a few years in the lives of the family from the time Charlotte is recovering from a hopeless infatuation with a married man, to the death of Branwell. Branwell is brilliantly played by Adam Nagaitis, and his slow self-destruction is a major part of the story, In fact, some reviewers have complained that there is too much Branwell in a film that is supposed to be about the Brontë sisters. Perhaps so, but the misery of the family during Branwell's fatal slide into addiction is an integral part of their lives. Charlotte biographer Claire Harman notes that the sisters knew that Branwell, being the only boy, was the favourite of his father. In the film, the girls look at their father with silent resignation when he expresses, yet again, his hope that Branwell will pull himself together. Branwell had the freedom to pursue many careers; he squandered all his chances.
Charlotte seethes with resentment at the restrictions placed on her by society, and Anne is worried about their precarious financial future...
In addition, Branwell was their leader during their childhoods, a time spent in imaginary worlds they created and wrote about. The creative genius of the young siblings is represented symbolically in the opening scene, showing them living in their fantasy world, with glowing flames on top of their heads.
Later in the story, Charlotte, curious about Emily's writing, sneaks into her room while Emily is out walking on the moors. She rummages around and finds a book of poetry which she opens and starts to read. Stunned by the power and beauty of Emily's verse, she sinks down on the bed, still reading. Behind her the sun streams through the window and lights up a large amber hair comb on the back of her head. I do wonder if this is a symbolic reference to the flame sequence at the beginning of the story.
The house used in the filming is a replica of the original Brontë house, which was significantly altered after Rev. Patrick Brontë's death. As shown at the top of this post, the house faced the church graveyard and backed onto the moors--a grim surrounding, and yet the sisters hated living anywhere else, and whenever they had to leave home to earn money teaching, they suffered acute emotional and often physical distress.
The camera captures the streaks of the thick oil paint on the doors, the mud in the courtyard, the large flagstones in the hallway, which hurt Aunt Branwell's feet to walk upon. (Aunt Branwell is dead by the time of the movie but it is her legacy to the girls which made it possible for them to publish their book of poetry).
Rev. Brontë's study, where he spent most of his time, is across the hall from the dining room where the girls wrote and walked and talked at night, after he went to bed. In a world before central heating, the interior doors are usually kept closed. It is a household full of secrets and unspoken feelings.
The house used in the filming is a replica of the original Brontë house, which was significantly altered after Rev. Patrick Brontë's death. As shown at the top of this post, the house faced the church graveyard and backed onto the moors--a grim surrounding, and yet the sisters hated living anywhere else, and whenever they had to leave home to earn money teaching, they suffered acute emotional and often physical distress.
The camera captures the streaks of the thick oil paint on the doors, the mud in the courtyard, the large flagstones in the hallway, which hurt Aunt Branwell's feet to walk upon. (Aunt Branwell is dead by the time of the movie but it is her legacy to the girls which made it possible for them to publish their book of poetry).
Rev. Brontë's study, where he spent most of his time, is across the hall from the dining room where the girls wrote and walked and talked at night, after he went to bed. In a world before central heating, the interior doors are usually kept closed. It is a household full of secrets and unspoken feelings.
For months the family endured the misery of living with an alcoholic and opium addict who was often psychologically and even physically abusive. There was no escaping the situation, and no way of solving it, either.
In one scene, the doctor comes after Branwell has had an episode of delirium tremens, and sits and talks to the Rev. Bronte in his study. The camera slowly pans across the door, looking in on the conversation from the hallway. The technique reminds me of the way Ang Lee also framed some conversations in Sense & Sensibility, showing Eleanor and her mother in their tiny cottage, while Eleanor talks about their reduced circumstances.
In one scene, the doctor comes after Branwell has had an episode of delirium tremens, and sits and talks to the Rev. Bronte in his study. The camera slowly pans across the door, looking in on the conversation from the hallway. The technique reminds me of the way Ang Lee also framed some conversations in Sense & Sensibility, showing Eleanor and her mother in their tiny cottage, while Eleanor talks about their reduced circumstances.
What little narration there is in the film is through the device of Charlotte Brontë writing to her friend Ellen Nussey, who we do not meet until almost the end of the story. The rest of the exposition is mostly given to Emily and Anne. Anne explains to Emily why Branwell was fired from his tutoring job, and Emily explains to Anne that Charlotte was eating her heart out over her old teacher, Monsieur Heger. But mostly, the family circumstances and their relationships between the siblings are shown, rather than told.
There is also the sweet, awkward interplay between Charlotte and her father's curate, who later became her husband.
There are so many wonderful scenes: Emily's furious anger at Charlotte when she discovers Charlotte has been through her things in her bedroom, contrasted with her compassion for Branwell.
There is also the sweet, awkward interplay between Charlotte and her father's curate, who later became her husband.
There are so many wonderful scenes: Emily's furious anger at Charlotte when she discovers Charlotte has been through her things in her bedroom, contrasted with her compassion for Branwell.
In one scene, it is Sunday morning and Branwell is staggering up the street after delivering a note to a friend, begging him for some gin. The church bells are ringing. The three sisters, of course, exit the house and start walking down the hill to church, carrying their prayer books. They see Branwell. It's a humiliating moment.
They are going to a house of worship, their father is the spiritual leader of the village and now they are reminded of the hopeless reality of their family situation. All of Haworth, of course, knows about the shortcomings of the minister's son.
Charlotte looks at him and then resolutely looks away. Anne looks pained and hurt. They pass him, continuing their walk, but then Emily stops, and goes back to help him struggle home.
Another realistic detail here: when the girls walk outside, the hems of their skirts brush the wet pavement and get dirty and muddy. You can see it on Anne's blue skirt in the photo above. They have to pick their skirts and petticoats up to go up and down stairs without tripping. Charlotte always seems to run impatiently up the stairs with her skirts in her hands and Emily sometimes tucks her skirt up when she is working outside in the courtyard. (I recently read that the medical discovery that germs, particularly tuberculosis germs, could be picked up from the sidewalk, is what led to the shortening of women's skirts to ankle height at the turn of the last century.)
They are going to a house of worship, their father is the spiritual leader of the village and now they are reminded of the hopeless reality of their family situation. All of Haworth, of course, knows about the shortcomings of the minister's son.
Charlotte looks at him and then resolutely looks away. Anne looks pained and hurt. They pass him, continuing their walk, but then Emily stops, and goes back to help him struggle home.
Another realistic detail here: when the girls walk outside, the hems of their skirts brush the wet pavement and get dirty and muddy. You can see it on Anne's blue skirt in the photo above. They have to pick their skirts and petticoats up to go up and down stairs without tripping. Charlotte always seems to run impatiently up the stairs with her skirts in her hands and Emily sometimes tucks her skirt up when she is working outside in the courtyard. (I recently read that the medical discovery that germs, particularly tuberculosis germs, could be picked up from the sidewalk, is what led to the shortening of women's skirts to ankle height at the turn of the last century.)
The attention to detail, as for example, the use of natural light and candles and oil lamps, creates such a feeling of authenticity. One pet peeve of mine with period dramas is that women are always shown with their sewing, but they are stitching away with only a few inches of thread on their needle, which is ridiculous. In To Walk Invisible we see the endless daily household chores carried out by the arthritic old housekeeper Tabby and a young female servant.
Emily makes the bread for the family, kneading the dough in a way which makes it obvious you wouldn't want to get on her bad side. Anne sits and chats with her, idly brushing flour off the rim of a ceramic canister as she talks.
Emily makes the bread for the family, kneading the dough in a way which makes it obvious you wouldn't want to get on her bad side. Anne sits and chats with her, idly brushing flour off the rim of a ceramic canister as she talks.
Little details. Again, Emily is in the kitchen, writing a journal entry in the miniscule handwriting the Brontë siblings used for their private writing. We see a close up of her rough and dirty fingernails. She's been snacking on berries. There's someone at the front door. She gets up to answer it, but as she approaches the door, Anne comes out of the dining room. Anne goes to the door, and Emily--who assiduously avoided contact with anyone outside the family-- swiftly steps behind the door so whoever it is will not see her. Nothing is said about it, that's just the way Emily is.
I think all the actresses do a wonderful job of showing the contrasting personalities of the sisters.
I think all the actresses do a wonderful job of showing the contrasting personalities of the sisters.
Anne is the gentle mediator in the sometimes fraught relationship between Emily and her older sister Charlotte.
Charlotte appears to do the least amount of housework. (Apparently in real life she did lend a hand with sweeping and stove-blacking when Tabby was too ill to work). After Branwell has started a fire in his room, Anne is down on her knees, scrubbing the woodwork, Emily is picking up the empty bottles, and Charlotte is sitting and looking at her brother's papers and books--the least grimy job.
After Branwell's death, Tabby, Emily and Anne perform the ritual of washing the body. Charlotte sits downstairs in the dining room, weeping, Her father, who for years did not even dine with his children, sits weeping in another room.
Charlotte appears to do the least amount of housework. (Apparently in real life she did lend a hand with sweeping and stove-blacking when Tabby was too ill to work). After Branwell has started a fire in his room, Anne is down on her knees, scrubbing the woodwork, Emily is picking up the empty bottles, and Charlotte is sitting and looking at her brother's papers and books--the least grimy job.
After Branwell's death, Tabby, Emily and Anne perform the ritual of washing the body. Charlotte sits downstairs in the dining room, weeping, Her father, who for years did not even dine with his children, sits weeping in another room.
There are two endings to the story: one is when Charlotte's friend Ellen Nussey arrives to visit the family and goes walking on the moors with the sisters. They see a sundog, or parhelion, in the sky. Ellen tells the sisters, it is you, you are the three suns. This incident apparently really happened, as recalled by Ellen Nussey, (although actress Chloe Pirrie, who played Emily, did not seem to be aware of that in this interview.) It was not, in other words, dreamt up by the director. This dramatic moment would ordinarily be a closing scene, but it is followed by the death of Branwell, and then, we are told in screen titles about the death of Emily and Anne. The camera pans and moves from the past to modern day and we see the people coming to pay homage to the Brontës at the parsonage-house-turned-museum, a cinematic transition some viewers have found jarring. In my case it is more a feeling of disappointment that the engrossing story is over. But one can watch it again, and I have and will.
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