The scene right before Heathcliff hears Catherine say it would "degrade" her to marry him, after he fought with her about going to a Lindon party and punched his fist through a glass pane, provides a lot of information about his character as he is in the movie. The 1939 Olivier performance of Heathcliff is much more glamorous than what I imagined - his formidable expressions do not communicate clear brutality and threats, though they are not pleasant. This Heathcliff is tightly controlled - it's what he has to do to pass as a gentleman, even though everyone in the area knows his history and what his plans are. He does not hide his intent on taking over Wuthering Heights and the Grange, but he puts himself in such a position that no one can stop him, and he keeps that position using the disguise of a gentleman. He sneered at finery and propriety before; it doesn't matter to him any more now, even though to look at him is too look at a well-bred young man. It's what he has to do to revenge himself on his perceived enemies, and if there is anything he is, it's determined. However repugnant the behavior and lifestyles of the upperclass are to him, he will assume those behaviors and ways to get what he wants.
After barging into Catherine's room while she's preparing for a dance, he makes his last vocalized stance against the upper class lifestyle. He accuses her of not being true to herself, of giving in to weaknesses of character, like greed, and of doing her utmost to separate them through these actions. He speaks with disdain about the company of people like Edgar and Isabella. Catherine, embarrassed at what she knows is true in this speech, and angry at being told what to do by someone she loves but sees as a servant, reacts with unsheathed claws. She points out Heathcliffe's low position, his dirtiness, and his lack of respectability; her insults are vicious and meant to maim.
She is fighting to leave her childhood behind, and Heathcliff composed the biggest, most important part of that time of her life. She enjoys the power being a lady affords her, though at a cost, and once she latches onto the possibility of more of that kind of power, she takes it and runs with it. (Leaving Heathcliff in the dust, by the way). After her attack, Heathcliff runs to the stables, collapses on his bed, and stares out the window. He is the picture of teenage disappointment, which few actors Olivier's age could pull off. His retreat is the stable, a reminder of his daily physical condition. One sees how few places there are for Heathcliff to escape to if necessary - everything either belongs to Hindley or reminds him of Catherine. There is no place for him, even in the space where he has a bed. If there is anything he can't stand, it's a sense of powerlessness, and it's a feeling and a truth that he has suffered from his entire life. It gets the better of him when he punches his window, and cuts his hand on the glass.
This Heathcliff seeks, perhaps subconsciously, some comfort or help afterwards. He meets Nelly in the kitchen and she helps him wash off his hand. It must have been nice to have someone touch him with concern, and without bothering to be careful about getting dirty herself in touching him. Still badly embarrassed and troubled by his earlier fight with Catherine, Heathcliff hides when she comes into the room to let Nelly know Edgar proposed. The way Olivier performs, it appears that some vague plan in Heathcliffe's mind achieves sharp focus, so when she says marrying him would "degrade" her, he leaves without hesitation. That iron control that kept him from acting out against his abusers as a child appears now, in the way his expression sets like concrete, and he leaves quietly and quickly.
The scenes where Heathcliff and Cathy fight, and then Heathcliff overhears her conversation with Nelly, are both moments where I was under the impression he had made himself much more vulnerable to Cathy than she to him. The way he looks at her and the language he uses, the way he speaks, when he implores her to be the person he loves, are so obvious. Anyone with the slightest ability to identify the feeling know he loves her. She, on the other hand, though they are close, prefers to keep her options open. She will consider one thing or another, but not one to the exclusion of all possibilities. She had a little more control than Heathcliff in this stage of their friendship; it hurt her to fight, but she would not back down, either. The only time this balance changes occurs when Heathcliff runs away and Catherine tries to find him. Subjecting herself to a terrible storm, she runs after him in a fit. It's as though this is his first, though intended, act of revenge: she is not willing to promise him her love the way he promised his, so in running away he causes the illness that later kills her.
What this movie provided that the book did not: in short, a glance at Heathcliffe's vulnerable side. In the book, the only time he appears vulnerable is after Nellie leaves the Grange to tell him Catherine is dead. He shrieks and slams his forehead into a tree so hard he bleeds. But in the 1939 movie, the audience sees Heathcliffe in his rare solitary moments: in bed above the stable, on the moor, etc. This early, youthful vulnerability disappears when he returns as a mature, hardened adult, but at least we see it part of the time. The movie also focused in on the great love saga between Catherine and Heathcliff, and less on the people that make up the rests of the story. Specifically, their children's engagement is never brought up because the children are never introduced. The critical moment when Heathcliff drags Catherine to the window for her last look at the moors, and she dies dramatically standing in his arms, defines the movie in its aim. It did not want to bridge the schizm these two characters created, it wanted to revel in their passionate, destructive love-fury.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
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