Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, published in 1847, is based on her own passions, dreams, frustrations and rebellion against a lonely and monotonous life. It remains one of the most popular novels of the 19th century. First staged in 1848, there have been numerous stage and film versions ever since.
Sally Cookson’s imaginative production, and the best I have seen since Polly Teale’s version for Shared Experience, was originally staged at the Bristol Old Vic in two parts on two days. At the National Theatre, it has been cut to a single event lasting three-and-quarter hours.
Cookson presumes the audience knows the story and cuts the Gothic paraphernalia. The production’s physical, emotional and intellectual journey is accompanied by an on-stage band and songs throughout. The performance relies on arresting images and it’s a very long time before there is any extended dialogue – not until Jane meets Rochester in fact.
Madeleine Worrall gives a fierce and intelligent account of an independent and indomitable woman who wants a husband who accepts her on equal terms. His proposal of marriage is unforgettable: “Marry me, poor and plain, though you are!” What feminist could possibly refuse? Felix Hayes is likable as Rochester; but he is hardly the dark, grim, ugly, chillingly formal and stiff character Bronte created.