Jane Austen's Persuasion: A New Musical Drama

Jane Austen’s Persuasion: A New Musical Drama

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Though Jane Austen is undoubtedly one of Britain’s most prominent literary names, Persuasion is perhaps her least widely-read work. Published posthumously, the novel furthers Austen’s biting satire and thematic development of gentrified society, love, and constancy which are also such features of its partner Northanger Abbey. It tells of Anne Elliot, her history of broken love and her hopes of reconciliation with Captain Wentworth.

This original production, by Barbara Landis, debuted in Chicago with the same company in 2010 and retains several of the original cast members. One of the most striking observations for Austen fans (in a festival featuring further spin-offs and adaptations of the writer’s novels) is Landis’ commitment to retaining much original dialogue which is complemented superbly by Austen’s favourite music and luxurious costumes.

Opulence is established immediately with the stage washed in purple as a perfect accompaniment to the chandeliers and carvings which are aptly provided by the Music Hall at The Assembly Rooms. From the outset we revel in the childish overindulges of John B. Boss’s Sir Walter Elliot who steals the opening with his boundless energy and expression. In this number, the musical credentials of the company are confirmed as there is perfect synchronicity between cast and impressive chamber orchestra – the virtuosity of the musicians from time to time showcased during quieter onstage moments. The dexterity of pianist Anatoliy Torchinskiy is particularly apparent during his rendition of Haydn’s Piano Sonata in D Major.

There are a great many highlights to this preview performance – not least the rousing sailor songs which confirm the vocal talents of the entire company and treat us to Irish tap routines of the highest order! Particular mention should go to Anne Marie Lewis for her constantly reacting and vibrant Mary, to Kristin Johnston and Sarah Kropski for their endearingly giggly and flirtatious Louisa and Henrietta Musgrove and to Simon Kyung Lee for a couple of simply sumptuous song-bursts!

The telling of the story, in addition to the device of Austen as narrator, is aided by means of absorbing projections which transport us from the noble Kellynch Hall to Bath via the seaside at Lyme. Certainly, in terms of aesthetic, this production ticks every box.

As with the novel, the ultimate success of the piece relies upon our investment with the character of Anne and on our concerns for her eventual happiness. In this area, unfortunately, tonight’s performance suffered. The character lacked the delicacy and selflessness which a reading of the novel suggests. She lacked the vulnerability of a young woman who is still essentially mothered and nurtured by Lady Russell and all too often there was little real distinction between the twenty-seven year old Anne and the forty-one year old Austen who formed the second half of this dual role. Of course, artistic interpretation is to be welcomed, but it may be hoped that the character is softened during the run in order to add more emotional connection to the technical excellence of the production. 

Recall of the Wild

Having spent a fair amount of time this year in two of Britain's greatest (in my opinion) cities - Edinburgh and, most recently a couple of weeks ago, London - it has proven impossible to avoid the allure of visiting some of these locations' most notable buildings and architectural sites. Indeed, a sizeable proportion of the theatre I have sampled has been housed in extravagant, ornate palaces of the arts which quite serve to elevate the works on offer to a level of worthiness apparently deemed suitable for their reception.

Indeed, the irony was not lost on me of seeing the National Theatre's 'Great Britain' lately at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket (Haymarket, London - not Haymarket, Edinburgh on this occasion...). Once more, a newly-written play (and one in whose contemporaneity I revelled - bravo to the NT for offering a satirical piece of truly relevant social commentary) which speaks to the common man, was priced out of many people's access and placed beyond the horizons of even London citizens who have the central theatres on their doorsteps.

What, and who, is theatre for? It is an interminable problem.

We need a revolution. We need a liberation. We simply need to blow the bloody doors off.

We gravitate careeringly towards bricks, structure, sanctuary in mortar. We congregate in communal pockets of habitation and, most troublingly, we confine ideas - rich, mind-enhancing, problem-posing ideas - within narrowing, institutionalised walls.

One of the most impacting and memorable experiences in Edinburgh this year was a performance in which we, the audience, joined the performer, our guide, on a silent walk through the grounds of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art and its outlying environs. For forty minutes we traipsed through woods, alongside rivers - sharing the space with unconcerned waders and rabbits - united in our shared obligation: to feel.

We are thinking beings, yes. But we also possess a unique capacity for more rounded sentience.

Should it be that fully adverting to the senses in an outdoor space feels so much of a novelty?

In this shared experience I was forced to reengage with my environment, I was put on an equal footing with my fellow audience members (and with the performer!) and there was no pretense about dressing up in one's best clothes to hear artists, themselves often scraping a living, present their art.

There are, of course, seemingly insurmountable problems in reclaiming theatre from stifling institutions. And there are plentiful reasons for not doing so - at least we know where to find it. But when 'theatre' becomes more explicitly associated with the Victorian chandeliers and winding carpeted staircases than the artistic product itself, I feel myself despairing,

And why stop there? Why limit ourselves to the comfort provided by walls? We live in the world - unconstrained. Yet our formative educational experiences are, for the most part, limited to monotonous classroom routines.

As I say to my students, writers rarely operate in such externally-imposed, inflexible conditions. The demand for creativity far outweighs the opportunity, nay the propensity, for establishing the conditions in which true creativity and inspiration may truly be aroused.

Following a half hour creative writing mini-lesson, which took place in a swirling wind on the center of the school playing fields, the sixteen-year old students confirmed, without prompt, the assertion that it was far easier to produce writing in such an 'authentic' environment as opposed to the classroom. The work that they had produced attested to this.

Necessarily, the example is brief and anecdotal but it illustrates my germinating belief that there exists much untapped potential for creativity and learning outside of the classroom. After all, is not a significant purpose of our school experience that of being prepared for life outside of this regulated space?

In short, it seems exceedingly simple. Theatres and schools alike have both been termed 'black boxes' in their various fields. Both are about pushing and challenging boundaries. Why do we not, therefore, push a little harder and challenge ourselves to break free, even if it be only slightly more regularly, from our comfortable, safe, environs?