Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 novel is about two flawed individuals whose pride and wayward spirits must be curbed before they can learn to rely on God’s love and on each other. At the story's heart is the need to learn Christian humility and to submit the self to a higher moral purpose. It is a sentiment unlikely to resonate with a contemporary secular audience, which may explain why the novel is more often remembered or presented as a tempestuous love story between two strong-willed characters. This latest musical version does grapple with Brontë’s religious themes, notably through its presentation of Helen Burns as Jane’s role model and the recurring emphasis on forgiveness in her signature song. The reconciliation between Jane and her childhood tormentor, Mrs Reed, similarly brings Brontë’s moral concerns to the fore, as do songs such as “My Maker” and “Children of God”. Yet these elements sit somewhat uneasily alongside the bodice-ripper of a romance that audiences are more likely to recognise and perhaps expect. Charlie Burns plays Jane with considerable passion, although her interpretation is somewhat less prim than Brontë’s heroine. For a modern audience, the difficulty lies in making sense of a woman who is fiercely independent yet is also expected to learn Christian submission. Her spiritual education through her relationship with the emotionally cold and austere St John Rivers is unfortunately underplayed. Yet St John is crucial to Brontë’s design. He is the counterpart to Rochester’s emotional fire, representing another form of domination that Jane must resist as she finds a balance between duty and desire. It is the character of Rochester who may be the most readily accessible to a present-day audience: wilful, larger than life and unmistakably charismatic. The rogue domesticated by the love of a good woman is a familiar stereotype, and Ashley Gilmour brings both commanding stage presence and a haunting quality to Rochester’s songs. But this is not quite Brontë’s Rochester. His lesson is not simply to be softened by love, but to recognise his own sinfulness and dependence on God’s mercy. His physical chastening at the end of the story is part of that transformation. Among the other performances, Poppy Jason as the young Jane and Rochester’s ward, Adèle, is especially impressive. She brings conviction and personality to both roles, threatening to steal the show whenever she appears. The score has its moments, although it is not especially memorable and occasionally feels too indebted to Stephen Sondheim. A more serious weakness is the amount of narration, with the ensemble frequently singing or simply recounting events that would be more dramatically effective if played out. Ultimately, the production is caught between two versions of Jane Eyre: Brontë’s Christian parable about pride, sin, humility and redemption, and the passionate gothic romance that has become the story’s most familiar modern incarnation. The difficulty here, however, is not in being faithful to the novel, but in reconciling its complex moral and spiritual framework with an audience conditioned to see Jane and Rochester primarily as star-crossed lovers. This musical acknowledges that tension without ever quite finding a way to resolve it.
Rated: ★★★
Reviewed by J.C.
Photo by Victoria Davies
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