Like most stories of quality, Austen can take interpretation. In fact, given we are 200 years away from the conception of her works, it demands it. But take it too far and you lose the essence of the work.
Here, Frances Poet pitches her adaptation perfectly, including making the sensible decision to keep it at two and not three sisters. It manages to hang between the two stools of authenticity and relevance. Part of that comes from the interpretation of classic modern songs, which allow an equal pathway between taking Regency drama and popular songs and treating them with equal respect. And so, if it were even conceivable, "Murder on the Dance Floor" has been reclaimed!
Director Adam Nichols manages to heighten the blend of humour and drama, originally by Austen but respectfully kept by Poet, with deft management of his staging and interaction between actors and the representational set by Nick Trueman. Aside from a part of the set at one point deciding it was more akin to a shopping trolley than a functional support to the drama, thus refusing to go in any direction wished for, the set is impeccably a backdrop and gives a heightened sense of the time in which we are experiencing all the fun of the affairs.
Costume, by Julie Carlin, has an appropriate level of detail, whilst both lighting and sound, designed by Jeanine Byrne and Pippa Murphy respectively, are effective in their delivery—being neither overpowering nor understated but at the level needed. I was glad not to get wholly dramatic rain and lightning to capture the mood of weather at relevant points—subtlety demanded circumspect staging.
A clear and worthy element of this are the musical arrangements. We have become increasingly used to popular songs being alternately arranged, often to hint at, draw in and then surprise us as we begin to spot what feels less than recognisable at its beginning. We also tend to be mildly amused by the realisation that the lyrics in each song match a contemporary reading of the text. Here, it is precisely that, but the arrangements by Adam Morris are ably matched by the movement in each section as directed by Stephanie Allison.
This is the epitome of ensemble working and gives a truly remarkable experience of a drama whose sensibilities may have been expected to have been overtaken by yon modern way of thinking yonks ago; but they are not. As an aside, I have to say the genius of the Kylie Minogue track as we left was not unnoticed.
The ensemble nature of the piece extends into an exceptional cast who show that they can harmonise as much vocally as creatively. Perhaps the greatest challenge, given that Austen draws her characters with great distinction, is the ability to match your performance of one role and then, as a member of that ensemble, transfer your physicality to the performance of another.
With exemplary skill, Signe Larsson gives us one character clearly older than her years before delivering a scheming and believable Lucy Steele; Nina Kristofferson pitches perfectly the harridan before then bringing the kindlier yet interfering Mrs Jennings; Connor Going brings the much conflicted Edward before parading his brother Robert in a far more dramatic lounge lizard way, which is delightful; Chris Coxon gives us a reluctant, hesitant and browbeaten husband and stepbrother, before rescuing many a day through the man who discovers the truth as Colonel Brandon.
It is, however, to Robin Simpson as Sir John and Mrs Ferrars that real admiration tumbles. Sir John is played with an enthusiasm which is infectious, however when Simpson dons the dress as Mrs Ferrar, whilst it originally brings levity, the delivery of Mrs Ferrar’s reproach and warning to Edward, her son, hits the sinister and the overbearing matriarch to a simple T. There is skill in being able to know just how and when to do this, and Simpson manages this with poignant charm.
There are also standout performances from Kirsty Findlay as Elinor and Lola Aluko as Marianne. Carrying on from their collaboration in Beautiful: The Carole King Musical, this manages to give us the sibling rivalry, balanced with their support of each other whilst conveying the desperation of finding a solution to their womanly troubles of the times—survival in a man’s world, without the aid of a fortune, but with the hope of finding a man in need of a wife.
And so, to the cad and ungentlemanly Willoughby, given life by Luke Wilson. Central to both the narrative and message of the piece, Wilson inhabits the role to great effect, and the devastation wrought upon Marianne is both believable and reprehensible, and yet he gives us the humanity of a man in turmoil.
It is difficult to find negatives to pinpoint or to highlight, aside perhaps from the nature of the seating and the warmth within the venue, which managed to get beyond uncomfortable pretty early on in the evening. That aside, what we have is a production which knows what is demanded by Austen in terms of the balance between humour and drama. It does not try and take any liberties, however is not so reverential it becomes staid. It is vibrant, exciting and a classic combination of a really good story told really darn well.
This production can be seen at OVO in St. Albans 12–18 August.