The Allure of the Beast

What do actors Colin Clive, Orson Welles, Zachary Scott, Michael Leech, George C. Scott, William Hurt, Timothy Dalton, Ciaran Hinds, and Toby Stephens all have in common? For one thing, with the exception of Dalton, none are exactly what you would call a heartthrob even in their prime. But, more importantly, all of them have the distinction of having portrayed the character of Edward Rochester in a filmed production of Charlotte Bronte’s classic Jane Eyre.

First of all, let me say that Jane Eyre was the first novel I read as a girl and I re-read it at least a dozen times before I ever had a real love affair. I was hopelessly besotted by Rochester and, to a certain extent, remain so to this day. He was dark and brooding and wounded and had a pain-filled past. I mean what the heck more is there to ask for from the hero of a novel? When he bluntly asks Jane, “Do you find me handsome?” she quite honestly answers, “No, sir.”

But they fall in love. And even though his past comes to haunt them, they ultimately find one another and live happily ever after — or so the story goes.

What is is about the strange, brilliant, moody, wounded, unhandsome, slightly terrifying man? Why do we love him so much? Or, at least some of us do.

There is a legend in the world of publishing that the two most enduring characters ever created are Sherlock Holmes and Merlin. I find this interesting because both of them, to a certain extent, fit the “beast” profile. Holmes is cerebral, distant, unattractive but still alluring, physically powerful (which often comes a surprise in stories) and a force to be reckoned with. Merlin is also a solitary, wounded man who is brilliant and, of course, a wizard, but vulnerable and with a wildly mercurial temperament.

Actors must love to play these roles. I don’t think there has ever been a heartthrob actor to play either Holmes or Merlin. Nicol Williamson got to play both and was dazzling as both — I love him in anything, to tell the truth. Too bad he never played Rochester.

But that wounded beast is such a fascination for many women. There is a wonderful story that comes from somewhere in the Orient about a young wife whose husband goes off to war and returns badly beaten up, angry, and savage. She cannot go near him without him lashing out at her. She consults a wizard who tells her he can make a potion to cure her husband but he needs the eyelash of a tiger to make it work. So she journeys off into the mountain and finds a tiger. She spends weeks tenderly courting the tiger, preparing wonderful food for him, singing to him, teaching him to trust her and, finally, the tiger softens and allows her to pluck an eyelash for the potion.

When she returns to the wizard with the precious eyelash, the wizard throws it in the fire and says, “Now, go and court your husband the same way you did the tiger.” It is a wonderful story because it speaks to the most primitive parts of ourselves. Man the savage warrior and woman the tender nurturer. It is the archetype in the extreme.

Maybe that’s why we love those beasts. I remember when the television series “Beauty and the Beast” was on. Every woman I knew was mad about Vincent and every man said “you’re NUTS — he looks like a beast!” Yeah, baby.

I guess in our deepest selves we still harbor seeds of our most ancient selves. Some have had the good sense to be “sensible” and overcome all that but then there are those of us who watch the umpteen-millionth Masterpiece Theater production of Jane Eyre and sigh and think “what a man!”

Thanks for reading.