This experimental new play at the Lyttleton Theatre, an adaptation of arguably the greatest Victorian novel in the English language, began life at the Bristol Old Vic in 2014; a show lasting four and a half hours spread across two nights. Now the National Theatre have their hands on co-producing it, an hour of performance time has been dropped and it’s been condensed into one sitting (some tourists having planes to catch), but audiences still have to commit to an epic evening of theatre ahead of them, and one that won’t be to everyone’s taste. With only one interval, take the opportunity to grab a large glass of wine in a plastic cup for this highly original re-telling of an orphaned governess.
Despite feeling like you could have read a large portion of the book in the time it takes to watch a cast of ten attempt to recreate it (with only partial success) this production relies on the audiences’ familiarity of the work and characters. Although it couldn’t be called a musical, there is also a huge reliance on Benji Bower’s small folk/jazz band which takes centre stage for heightening the drama and helping to add a surprising amount of humour, as in the case of the cast miming carriage journeys whilst singing what sounds like ‘Who Let The Dogs Out’. Bizarre I know. Meanwhile costumes are sparse and Michael Vale’s skeletal set is as bleak as the Yorkshire moors, featuring ladders and wooden platforms which the energetic cast make full use of in order to illustrate Jane Eyre’s numerous comings and goings, but you’ll have to bring your imagination (and memory) along.
Sally Cookson directs the multi-role cast members, with Craig Edwards playing three roles including Mr Brocklehurst, Mason, and most impressively, Rochester’s dog Pilot, but the lanky Laura Elphinstone, whilst tackling a mind-boggling array of roles including Helen Burns, Adele, Grace Poole and St John, should have been a tour de force, she fails to embody any of them particularly well and this entire production would potentially have been greatly improved had this cast failure been rectified ahead of the London transfer. Madeline Worrall is fixed as Jane Eyre, whom she plays first a baby screaming, a child and then as a woman, and although she is convincing (as the dowdiest Jane Eyre I’ve ever seen), sadly there is a lacklustre chemistry between Worrall and Felix Hayes as Rochester – but then the slant is intentionally more autobiography than it is love story.
For me it was the all-singing Melanie Marshall as Rochester’s lunatic wife Bertha Mason, imprisoned in the attic of Thornfield Hall, that proved the most captivating performer of the night, and despite having the least stage-time. Wearing a full length red silk dress, Marshall made for an arresting presence and, for those brief moments, she single-handedly managed to bring this peculiar and jarring modern interpretation together. Although I didn’t think all the modern songs she sung were appropriate, her soulful voice offered an unusual and haunting perspective of this much misunderstood character and became a far more powerful backdrop than the set itself.
It’s illustrative of the work-in-progress nature of this production that it originally started out with no script (in a Mike Leigh-type set up) and that the cast, who are also the devising team, were still chopping and changing scenes ahead of opening. Much remains to be edited if it is ever to make it to the West End and, whilst it’s no easy feat to adapt a novel of this magnitude for the stage, the cast’s skill and creativity is overshadowed by the fact that they still have a considerable length of time at their disposal in order to relate Jane Eyre’s history. It holds your attention throughout, yes, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t benefit from being much faster-paced.
In essence the story-telling is faithful to Brontë’s masterpiece but the try-hard attempts at modernisation and controvosy, including Rochester’s use of the word ‘fuck’ and Marshall’s rendition of ‘Mad About the Boy’ add nothing, nor do these quirks help us to see Jane Eyre in a new light. Updates are all well and good if they actually transform our view of something, but this just made me want to dust off my old worn-out copy of the book, not because I was excited by this production, but because I was irritated by it. With half the house wanting to break into a standing ovation and the other half (including me) firmly seated, it’s certainly dividing opinion.
Jane Eyre at the Lyttleton, National Theatre, South Bank, London SE1 9PX, until 10th January 2016. Running time 3 hours 30 minutes including an interval. For more information and tickets visit the website.
