I’m the obvious choice for Heathcliff. But the BBC won’t ever admit it
Astonishingly, the beeb isn’t begging me to play the macho northern sociopath
Rugged, bearded, howling with rage over his lifeless Cathy’s body. Who immediately comes to mind in terms of casting? Me, obviously.
I epitomise macho internalised rage. From my looming 5ft 6 stature to my threatening Cambridge accent, I could have been ripped from the tip of Emily Bronte’s pen. Laurence Olivier. Ralph Fiennes. Madelaine Hanson. I don’t think anyone else could convincingly pull off the darker side of masculine repression and obsessive love.
If you asked anyone who reminds them of Heathcliff, I’m on the top of their trachea. Don’t deny it. Okay, you might need to hire a slightly smaller Cathy and invest in a good stick on moustache, but in 2017, that isn’t really impossible. I think Bronte probably did imagine Heathcliff with commendable breasts.
You think my southern, feminine, breathy voice might suspend disbelief? Um darling, I’ve done my LAMDA. I can growl and glare with the best of them. Did King Lear not say ‘Howl, Howl, Howl’? If that passes as convincing dialogue for a man, my voice should be dismissed as a problem before the script hits the table.
Admit it, BBC. I’d be perfect. The reason you won’t hire me has nothing to do with the fact that seeing me play a brooding, macho antagonist would have people screaming with laughter. It’s because I’m a woman.
Yeah, don’t deny it. It is your internalised misogyny that makes you think that Richard Armitage or at least someone vaguely northern would be a better choice. You really think I can’t say ‘Aye' or ‘Afore tha’ grave' with authenticity? Rubbish.
The reason I can’t play Heathcliff is because I’m a girl.