Writer: Charlotte Brontë
Choreographer: Cathy Marston
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.
Runs until 17 May 2025
