In her 1847 novel “Jane Eyre,” Charlotte Brontë addresses her “reader” directly time and again, telling us what to think or not to think, summoning our support, chastising us. So it makes eminent sense that in adapting the novel for Available Light Theatre, Daniel Elihu Kramer puts a handful of those readers directly on the stage to remember encountering the novel and to respond with its personal impact.The Daily Press refers to Jane Eyre when discussing the wedding industry.
Acacia Duncan directs with a care that applies Mr. Rochester’s description of Jane as “at once so frail and so indomitable” to the tale itself. She is aided by a cast of four that brings both Brontë’s characters and the contemporary respondents to vivid life.
As Jane herself, Robyn Rae Stype embodies Rochester’s description with plainspoken ferocity and strength. Elena M. Perantoni flows seamlessly from the icy Mrs. Reed to the gentle, doomed little Helen Burns.
Michelle Gilfillan Schroeder brings all of her considerable skills to the stage as the older and wiser Narrator Jane, lending the inner voice and perspective that made Jane such an unconventional heroine. Then Schroeder surpasses herself in her brief but intense excursion into the mind of Bertha, the “madwoman in the attic.”
Jeff Horst, who possesses one of the supplest faces on any Central Ohio stage, switches between the Lowood orphanage tyrant Mr. Brocklehurst and the brooding Mr. Rochester in an eye’s twinkle. (Jay Weitz)
And as couples are deciding on the myriad of details, each of which comes with a price tag, we suggest they consider the words of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, whose marriage to Mr. Rochester was one of the most romantic in all literature: "Reader, I married him. [I]t was a quiet wedding."We don't know why they bothered with the whole "[I]t" thing when it's a different sentence in the original:
Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had. . .The Puyallup Herald discusses the classics and admits that,
I perfectly understand “Wuthering Heights” is a pretty long and difficult slog through the literary moor. (Tim Wadham)
On a tangential note, the video to ‘W A S T E’ is an extra visual clue as to their compulsively tormented state. Frontman Jacq Hardman thrashes around a subterranean cell, mascara running down his face like a morning-after babe mid-breakdown. You can almost hear him tearing his hair out.
It’s not sadism, nor is it voyeurism. It exists at a point of complete consumption within a relationship at the expense of oneself. U2 once wrote a song along similar lines – about the paradox of pleasure and pain – but it wasn’t this good.
It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch of the imagination to say it all gets a bit ‘Wuthering Heights’, a bit ‘Cathy and Heathcliff’ in parts: “I can forgive my murderer, but yours! How can I?”; “You said I killed you – haunt me, then”. Such lines paint a bleak picture of two troubled men, but comparing bands to literary anti-heroes makes it too easy to forget that they are bands. And it would be a fallacy to suggest Ghost Outfit are only happy when it rains. (Lucy Holt)