The same untameable fire

We have several reviews of the London performances of Northern Ballet's Jane Eyre. From The Times, which gives the production 3 stars out of 5:

Marston’s full-length take on Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre premiered at Northern Ballet in 2016, subsequently entering the repertoires of prominent ballet companies in America and Germany. Presented at Sadler’s Wells this week as part of a UK tour ending later this month in Norwich, Northern’s revival reminds us of what a good — and sometimes very good — piece of mainstream art it is.

Set to Philip Feeney’s blend of original compositions and arrangements of works by Schubert, and Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn, Marston’s ballet is fluidly told and intelligently crafted. The designs by Patrick Kinmonth, who also devised the scenario with Marston, make handsome, economical use of painted backdrops and scrims.

Perhaps Marston’s boldest, savviest choreographic decision was how she externalises the elemental forces that obstruct Jane’s progress through life. Embodied by five or sometimes six male dancers, these D-Men — as identified in the cast list — are Jane’s “inner demons”. They swirl around her in the very first scene, kicking, pushing and shoving her down as she reels from the revelation of her beloved employer Mr Rochester’s dark, dangerous secret.

Anyone unfamiliar with Brontë’s story may be a little lost at times, especially early on. A few scenes also go on too long. But stick with it. Marston employs a flashback structure that sometimes gives us two Janes. On the London press night I saw Sarah Chun and, as the character’s younger self, Rachael Gillespie. Both were excellent, together creating a heroine often beleaguered and vulnerable yet endowed with a steadfast fighting spirit.

The growing accord between Chun’s Jane and Joseph Taylor’s dashingly grumpy Rochester was also lovingly delineated via a handful of physically rich, psychologically nuanced duets. Theirs was a relationship you could invest in emotionally. A shout out too for Gemma Coutts’s vivid turn as a Mrs Rochester full of destructive, sexualised fury. (Donald Hutera)

Broadway World gives it 3 out of 5 too.

The dance world is all the richer for having different kinds of storytellers - no doubt. But equally, audience members will inevitably gravitate towards makers they feel a connection with.

I should be clear - I don't connect with Cathy Marston’s take on narrative dance, or perhaps just Jane Eyre rather than her whole canon.

This production was first created on Northern Ballet in 2016, and has even crossed the Atlantic being performed by American Ballet Theatre in 2019. Considering the writer, Charlotte Brontë, was a woman, I find the female characters disappointingly predictable; cruel Aunt, stern Governess, indifferent Chambermaid, mad woman who has to be considered sexually promiscuous etc.

And the men don't fare much better either, in particular the love interest Mr Rochester. Who's the usual cold, arrogant aristocrat who only softens when broken physically. Snooze.

Marston can create cohesive productions, and uses the ensemble dancers well. In Jane Eyre they act as narrative bookends; emerging at the end of scenes to cleanse the environment or navigating as elegant stagehands - placing tombstones, engaging with workhouse tables or being human candelabras.

Marston has a lot of story to tell, and in order to get through it all, the 100 minute work can feel on the relentless side. The strongest moments are the pas de deux between Eyre and Rochester. Here the Philip Feeney score offers the most tangible melodies, and Marston the most lyrical dancing in the production.

Elsewhere I miss the inclusion of (conventional) mime and Mise-en-scène as storytelling tools, and find the narrative gesture, style language cold and oversaturated. Very often the port de bras feels like semaphore rather than a physical communication of emotion. And I think that's the sticking point for me.

Successful narrative work takes words and then transcends them through movement language. It doesn't necessarily require literalism to guide the story, and observer where they need to go, but instead uses phrasing full of intention and dynamic to communicate the happenings and emotions involved.

I didn't find or feel this in Jane Eyre. Perhaps momentarily in the main protagonists first pas de deux, but it was fleeting, and didn't return. (Matthew Paluch)

Another 3 out of 5 from The Standard:

When I worked as a filing clerk, every afternoon I took armfuls of buff folders down to the basement. I’d shelve the files quick as I could, then pull out a stocky edition of Jane Eyre and furtively read another chapter. I was enraptured – especially by the stubbornly resilient heroine and her ardent rebuttal of injustice: “You think I have no feelings and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness, but I cannot live so – and you have no pity!” Reader, I loved it.

Did choreographer Cathy Marston devour Charlotte Brontë’s novel in a basement? Her 2016 version for Northern Ballet certainly feels devoted to its source material. Marston is noted for narrative ballets, often based on big-beast novels: Wuthering Heights, A Tale of Two Cities. Grand passions translate happily to ballet – jostling incident less easily.

This production’s Jane (an excellent, watchful Sarah Chun on opening night) is first seen fleeing her thwarted wedding to Mr Rochester. She falls into flashback – recalling her miserable childhood (orphaned, cruel relatives, harsh school) and arrival at Thornfield Hall as governess to Rochester’s ward. Patrick Kinmouth’s handsome set suggests the moors, all greyscale striations. Jane often feels confined: the design tempts her to make for the hills and keep running.

There’s a lot to pack in, and Marston’s stage is over-stuffed: hearts sink when yet another mob cap or frock coat hoves into view. Thickets of men crowd around Jane, symbolising the obstacles in her path but blunting the tale’s emotional force. Brontë’s Jane is steeped in isolation – here, she barely gets a moment to herself.

Joseph Taylor’s high-hatted, high-handed Rochester sticks out a lordly foot to stop Jane leaving the room. Their pas de deux are arrestingly original, intractable bodies that stubbornly resist fitting together. She struggles out of lifts, he spins haughtily away: they’re wilfully at odds. Later, they fold into each other – but when their wedding collapses, Jane rapidly wheels her hands backwards, longing to roll back time. Only when Rochester’s health and house are both in ruins do his need and her will mesh into harmonious movement.

Philip Feeney’s score has 19th-century echoes, violins sawing like a fretful mind. Martson keeps things moving: Rachael Gillespie gives young Jane a splendidly mutinous glare, and hectoring adults have rigid lines and pointy fingers. At Thornfield, Heather Lehan enjoys the fussbudget housekeeper, while Gemma Coutts lets rip as Bertha, Rochester’s firestarter of a wife, disrupting the wedding with sharp teeth and legs akimbo.

Marston smartly juxtaposes Jane with Bertha’s looming silhouette, creating an implicit kinship between reserved governess and madwoman in the attic. Each is combustible with pent-up emotion – and Marston’s ballet scores when it burns with the same untameable fire. (David Jays)

5 stars from LondonTheatre1:

What immediately strikes one is the high quality of the dance throughout the company. Moves seem effortless and beautiful to look at and Marston’s choreography is highly detailed and precise yet somehow never fussy. The story is told clearly in very expressive moves and is easy to follow, especially with the synopsis provided in the programme or free of charge online. Entrancing and enchanting describe the entire evening!

I especially like the way in which Marston uses the male dancers. Joseph Taylor (Mr Rochester) is magical to watch: imperious yet vulnerable – an actor as well as a dancer with the authority to command the stage. The “D-Men”, as the choreographer calls them, rather than corps de ballet, are used throughout to smoothly move the attractive scenic panels across the stage as well as to comment on the action. They seem to appear from nowhere whenever required. Similar comments apply to Jonathan Hanks as the cruel Brocklehurst and Jackson Dwyer as St. John: both secondary parts, but both given three-dimensional roles here.

Heather Lehan provides some comedy in the role of housekeeper Mrs Fairfax, with a gorgeous, silly walk and facial expressions. Young Jane is danced by Rachael Gillespie, who has the pathos and lightness of touch that this needs, especially when her young friend Helen (Saeka Shirai) dies of consumption. We witness dancing of the highest level from Sarah Chan as the older Jane: as I have already said about others in the company, the ballet is effortless even when the choreography she has been given is very challenging, yet at the same time she never forgets that she IS Jane Eyre and that it is her story we are watching. Her performance is quite moving yet subtle, especially in the various pas de deux in Act Two, leading to the final embrace with the now blind Rochester.

This is a real “ensemble” production with no “stars” as such: this is a company that works together all the time and is supportive of each other. This helps to explain why the finished product is of such a high order and so involving for the audience.

Music for Jane Eyre has been arranged and newly composed for small orchestra by ballet specialist Philip Feeney and it is “just right”: evocative of the Yorkshire moors yet supporting the choreography and always appropriate. Daniel Parkinson is the experienced conductor.

Patrick Kinmouth’s set gives the company a full stage on which to dance, yet, using gauzes as well as drapes, conveys the grandeur of the wilds of Yorkshire and Alastair West’s lighting enables us to see faces as well as creating atmosphere.

Jane Eyre is the most enjoyable ballet I have seen for a long time – a great story imaginatively told in exquisite dance. Very highly recommended: if you cannot get to Sadler’s Wells in the next few days, it is at Theatre Royal, Norwich, next week. (John Groves)

5 stars too from West End Best Friend:

The design of the show is very much in keeping both with the time period and gothic setting of the novel. Sketches of monochrome hills fill the back wall and moveable panels, giving the stage space great depth and paying reference to the character of Jane Eyre’s skills as a sketch artist. 

The costumes are a beautiful combination of stereotypical ballet attire and period specific clothing, with the status of the characters being signified by their dress. The D-Men’s costumes, in particular, look pale and ethereal, blending in with the natural scenery and standing out amidst the more concrete world, which is a clever choice as it gives the audience clarity between the male spirits which haunt Jane inside her head, and the male dominated real world in which Jane lives.  

The music composition is perfect, especially from the perspective of the non-avid ballet watcher, because it enables the audience to track the plot of the show through its tone, pace, pitch and variation. It has a classical style, which is in keeping with the time period, and is very atmospheric. Much like in musical theatre, the music is essential to the storytelling and movement. It flows with the dancing on the stage, creating a beautifully dramatic blend. 

Ballet being a predominantly, stereotypically voiceless medium, it's interesting to see how it works as an adaptation of a vocally empowered and passionate book. Director and choreographer Cathy Marston has done an exceptionally good job at giving this piece a loud and strong voice purely through the movement of the dancers. This comes across through both attention to detail within the form and the cast's bodily acting abilities. Facial expressions work in perfect tandem with the dancing and the music to further enhance the storytelling, making the show’s plot very easy to understand and follow. 

It must be said that of all of the dancers, Gemma Coutts is by far the most interesting to watch. She dances the role of Bertha, Rochester’s secret wife, with power and elegant ferocity. She lurks in the dark, barely making a sound, watching Jane fall in love with Rochester from afar and when she strikes, she gives it her all. Her dancing is technically flawless, fast paced, intense, striking and animalistic at times, especially during the scenes where she dances amidst flames (which are created using coloured lights and haze, giving them a surprisingly delicate and attractive look). She may not feature much compared to the other dancers but she is definitely one to watch.   

Joseph Taylor’s performance as Rochester is also especially noteworthy due to his carefully considered dance when Rochester goes blind. This scene is memorable and beautiful beyond belief. We are captivated watching as Jane shows Rochester that his blindness doesn’t phase her, she loves him all the same. Taylor doesn’t overplay this performance of blindness, he gives it a gentle and disorienting quality whilst also allowing his character moments of grief, as portrayed through moments of stillness and physically insular movements, and moments showing an attempt to reassert his former able-bodied, masculine identity as he battles with the loss of his sight.

Thoughtful storytelling, which is extremely well considered. Breathtaking and exquisite to watch. (Megan O’Neill)

A contributor to The Reviews Hub gives it 3 out of 5:

There are some memorable moments in Cathy Marston’s Jane Eyre, devised for Northern Ballet and now being performed at Sadler’s Wells. Often the most memorable are the small moments – Jane Eyre’s sudden rigidity when confronted by a powerful man, the comic little steps of fussy Mrs Fairfax, the child Adele’s aping of female elegance, Mr Rochester’s defiantly outstretched leg. These are moments to savour in a ballet that is obliged to do a lot of storytelling, sometimes at the expense of more creative choreography.

Marston’s decision to frame the first half of the narrative by having the adult Jane retell her story to her rescuers, the Rivers family, works well. The scene takes place on an upper stage, dimly lit to suggest memory. But for the most part, the narrative structure simply follows the stages of the book. Often, this can feel over-literal, as when the orphans of Lowood hold up small boards, seemingly suggesting their slates.

Many will be familiar with the feminist reading of Charlotte Brontë’s novel, which suggests the mad Bertha Mason, Rochester’s first wife, raging overhead in the attic is an image of the often-meek Jane Eyre’s inner rage. None of that appears in Marton’s reworking. Poor Bertha (striking portrayed by Gemma Coutts) is reduced to a menacing, nymphomaniac, vengefully trying to destroy Rochester by fire.

In the place of these, Marston creates an ensemble labelled as ‘D-Men’, who periodically encircle Jane when alone to suggest her inner demons. In terms of a new ballet with roles for men, this decision is understandable. But as a representation of Jane’s inner self, it works less well. The patriarchal men with whom Jane is forced to do battle are real people in the novel – Brocklehurst, Rivers and Rochester himself. So this team of identical young men falls short of real insight.

At the heart of the novel is Jane’s powerful sense of social inferiority and her equally powerful determination to be recognised. Sarah Chun dances the part beautifully, paying close attention to Jane’s moments of self-doubt. But the choreography and costumes don’t make enough of this social chasm. Jane is here a beautiful, graceful young woman. The love that blossoms between her and Rochester seems foretold rather than hard-won.

And of course Rochester, played by a dancer, is far from the battered, middle-aged ex-roué of the book. Joseph Taylor has most scope in the final tender scene when he shows the now blinded Rochester as lost and despairing, believing he’s lost Jane forever. There’s a delightful moment here when Jane uses playful footwork to gently tease him, even as they celebrate their reunion.

Philip Feeney’s score is likeable, strongest in his reworking of some choice moments from Schubert. It’s good to see Northern Ballet again using live music, although disappointing that none of the small band are credited in the programme. (Jane Darcy)

Elle asks bookish questions to fashion designer Prabal Gurung.

The book that...

…I’d want signed by the author:

[...]

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. A fierce, feminist heartbeat wrapped in Gothic mist, Brontë’s masterpiece taught generations that a woman’s voice, once found, can echo through centuries. (Riza Cruz)

The American Society for Microbiology discusses 'Tuberculosis and the Fatal Beauty of Romanticism'.

Other popular depictions of women showed pale, slim, fragile figures confined to a bed or draped across a chaise longue. Attributes that were already considered to be beautiful in women were enhanced by their suffering. As she watched her sister Anne dying from the disease, author Charlotte Brontë wrote, “Consumption, I am aware, is a flattering malady.” [...]

But consumption was by no means an exclusive illness of the poor. Its easy method of transmission meant it crossed class boundaries and affected people at all levels of society. By contrast, the characters in the novel Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë live in more rural and affluent settings. Jane’s first ever friend at boarding school, Helen Burns, dies of consumption shortly after Jane’s arrival. Helen never loses her purity and stoicism, even in the face of cruelty from the teachers. She succumbs to her illness after teaching Jane mercy and forbearance. 

Brontë’s poem “The Night-Wind” includes references to the consumptive look and symptoms in the 12th stanza: “Now I can tell by thine altered cheek/ And by thine eyes’ full gaze,/ And by the words thou scarce dost speak,/ How wildly fancy plays.” Brontë wrote of the wide, full eyes that were fashionably attributed to tuberculosis and the fanciful speech that was thought to be related to artistic genius, both hallmarks of the era. In the final stanza, the author exclaims the paradoxical nature of fleeting life and the stories that remain, writing, “Nature's deep being, thine shall hold,/ Her spirit all thy spirit fold,/ Her breath absorb thy sighs./ Mortal! though soon life's tale is told;/ Who once lives, never dies!" The poem’s final 5 lines are echoed in the author’s words, written after the passing of her sisters Emily and Anne Brontë. 

Anne and Emily Brontë, along with their brother Branwell, are thought to have died from tuberculosis. In “Biographical Notice of Ellis and Acton Bell,” Charlotte Brontë revealed her sisters’ author pseudonyms, Emily (Ellis) and Anne (Acton), while commenting on their declining health, which she attributed to consumption. On their failing strength in the final days, Charlotte wrote, “Neither Ellis nor Acton allowed herself for one moment to sink under want of encouragement; energy nerved the one, and endurance upheld the other. ... But a great change approached; affliction came in that shape which to anticipate is dread; to look back on, grief.” She noted that Emily’s symptoms worsened first, until “we had nothing of Emily but her mortal remains as consumption left them.” (Alicea Hibbard, MHA and Annette Lopez Rosa)

Both BBC News and Daily Mail cover the story of the disgraceful act of destruction of the marble butterflies that were part of the Wild Uplands arts trail on the moors.