This is Jane Eyre as I’d never imagined it, a turbo-charged, audio-visual spectacle such as might turn up at the Brit Awards (not that I’ve been).
A 19th Century novel first published in three volumes, with 38 chapters, is a hard thing to fit into a conventional night at the theatre, assuming the intention is not an all-nighter.
Some Victorian sermons lasted longer, of course, but this is 2026. Attention spans are short, kids in school aren’t afforded time to study a whole novel and if you’ve got technology why the heck not use it?
Was this how Lily Dyble was thinking when she earned the right to direct by winning the coveted Royal Theatrical Support Trust (RTST) Sir Peter Hall Director Award?
Her version of the 2014 production by Sally Cookson and Mike Akers (originally a two-parter) has the action unfold on a sinister black staircase with black speakers as potential stumbling blocks.
They light up when Jane’s pre-recorded inner turmoil is revealed to us, neatly encapsulating page after page of the novel.
Spotlights play on this precarious looking rig from all directions, casting shadows and creating moods, notably when the multi-tasking cast almost turn drama into dance.
A soundtrack delivers sombre, Unthanks-style folk, birdsong and an almost perpetual atmospheric hum. It’s pretty loud at times and it begins with an attention-grabbing scream or squeal.
And suddenly, appearing as a light in the darkness, there’s a small figure in white ascending the staircase: Jane Eyre, about to relate her tale, or a shorter, impressionistic, techno-enhanced version of it.
Dear, indomitable Jane, dealt a poor hand in life but so sensible and likeable. Possibly my favourite literary heroine and possibly Charlotte Bronte’s thinly disguised self, since her novel was originally subtitled An Autobiography… and under the name Currer Bell, this being an age when female writers seeking publication had to bow to the patriarchy.
There is, you’ll be relieved to hear, acting as well.
I did, I confess, miss a few utterances amid the audio-storm, but Olivia Marcus quickly won me over, conveying Jane’s plucky forthrightness to the back of the auditorium.
Dumped on ghastly relatives in Gateshead (this’ll be the only venue on the tour where that raises a laugh), the bookish young orphan is bullied by her cousins and locked up in the dreaded red room by mean Aunt Reed (Kate Kordel, who makes amends by doubling as nice Mrs Fairfax, Rochester’s housekeeper).
We follow Jane’s travails at horrible Lowood School, where she’s made to stand all day on a stool (and Marcus does stand on one of those speaker things, making me fear for her safety).
Then she secures for herself a position as governess at Thornfield Hall, arriving after unwittingly causing her new employer to fall off his horse, Gabriel Akuwudike as surly Mr Rochester instead taking a painful-looking tumble on the stairs.
Up and down that staircase they go – useful future-proofing for the young cast’s knees, I was thinking – as the emotion builds and we become invested in the fate of all the characters.
At Thornfield Hall, where Rochester grumps and Jane’s young charge, French-speaking Adele (Andrea Gatchalian) flitters and flutters, bad stuff happens (no spoilers for kids who only get to study opening chapters) and in breathtakingly dramatic style.
Doing the right thing, Jane tears herself away from her true love and into the service of dry old stick St John Rivers (Oscar Adams)… before the story ends according to the book and every reader’s wish.
On this large and challenging stage, tailor-made for the grand design, moments of intimacy can easily be swallowed up.
Jane Eyre is full of such moments but this production, to my mind, strikes an effective balance between spectacle and story, so full marks to the clambering cast of nine and the sizeable creative team.
It is – sign of the times – a co-production by the Mercury Theatre, Colchester, the Rose Theatre, Kingston upon Thames, and Storyhouse, Chester, in association with Northern Stage and supported by a grant from the Royal Theatrical Support Trust.
Jane Eyre runs until Saturday, November 7. Tickets from the Northern Stage website.