My second day at Ashland 2010 began with a matinee performance of Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, adapted from the novel by Joseph Hanreddy and J.R. Sullivan. It was staged indoors at the Angus Bowmer Theater and was directed by former OSF artistic director Libby Appel.
First, a proviso: I am the only human on earth who has never read Pride & Prejudice. Well, not really. But it feels like it sometimes. In the weeks leading up to my Ashland trip, I told many people that I was looking forward to seeing this play in particular because I had never read the novel. There was almost universal surprise, since I am fairly well read. But I do have an excuse, of sorts. My sister read Jane Austen when I was young and I grew up under the impression that, like Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, and Black Beauty, some books were simply the province of the female of the species. Fast-forward to my thirties: I joined a book group and was hoping to finally have a good reason to catch the literary classics I had missed in my misspent youth. Unfortunately, the members of the group had already read Jane Austen and wanted to explore new territory. But it turned out that they hadn't read one of her novels, Northanger Abbey, so it was selected. I loved it! I was surprised to discover how witty her stories were and I reveled in her love of irony and her clear-eyed view of society.
I started reading the novel last week in hopes I would finish it before I saw the play, but I didn't quite make it. However, I had the best of both worlds as I knew enough to judge how closely the play came to realizing the novel and yet preserved the ending as a surprise to be experienced in the theater.
Now to the play.
The problem with adapting novels to the stage (or to the silver screen, for that matter) is that they flow differently than an original work built for the medium. The action of this novel takes place over the span of a year and involves many turning points of great import to the major characters and their destiny. The adapter can choose to focus on a much smaller aspect of the novel (as the film version of E.L. Doctorow's Ragtime did) or somehow condense the action into a comprehensible whole by some storytelling device. Libby Appel researched the available adaptations and discovered that virtually all of them used a narrator to achieve this goal. However, the novel doesn't have a single narrator. Feeling that this would be untrue to Austen's intent, she turned to a version which instead utilised an almost whirlwind style of storytelling that moves from scene-to-scene and locale-to-locale at high speed, almost melting from one day to another in a moment. Through the use of creative lighting, music, dance, and deftly written dialogue the audience is taken on a yearlong journey in the span of a few hours traffic on the stage.
As Appel put it in her directors note: "We have envisioned this production as a grand party ... We are less interested in the literal plot chronology. Instead we invite you to engage in each moment of the story as if you were beautiful ball that teems with music and dancing and flirting and falling in love - and yes, irony as well."
From the outset, the cast established the setting and characters of the Bennet Family and the people they met in their journey beautifully. I could find no weak links in this cast at any point. Elizabeth was played by newcomer Kate Hurster, a very strong actress who carried a huge portion of the play on her shoulders. Her sisters were delightfully and distinctly drawn, with kudos especially to Nell Geisslinger (who has done some amazing work here in past seasons in Bus Stop, Tempest, and Winter's Tale) as the beauteous Jane, and Susannah Flood (who I felt was out of her element in Hamlet but who knocked this one out of the park) as the naive Lydia.
Also notable in the family were OSF vets Mark Murphey and Judith-Marie Bergan as Mr. & Mrs. Bennet. Bergan brought out the foibles of her almost Dickensian comic character without going overboard into caricature. You could see her love for her daughters mixed in with her overblown sense of societal and financial necessity. And Murphey stood out for his befuddled yet ultimately sweet and caring father figure.
Other notable performances were given by Christian Barillas and Brooke Parks as the enthusiastic Mr. Bingley and his caustic sister Caroline; returning OSF veteran James Newcomb as the annoyingly self-important Mr. Collins, who almost stole the show with his smarmy attempts to capture the heart of Elizabeth; and Elijah Alexander as the inscrutable Mr. Darcy, who used his natural height and sharp features to great effect in assaying the character's well-known aloofness and hidden nobility.
Alexander is apparently a polarizing figure for longtime fans of the novel and Darcy, in particular. I have a few friends who have seen this production who feel that his interpretation is lacking in that he played the role for laughs. I must admit that I did see some evidence of that in a few places but they seemed subtle to me and didn't detract from my rooting interest in seeing Elizabeth find her great love. I am eager to review the much-praised television and film adaptations to see some different approaches to the character.
The director did a marvelous job of using social dance choreography to move the action forward - especially in Darcy & Elizabeth's awkward first dance. The lighting was also extremely effective, almost obviating the need for a set of any kind. It could have been done on a bare stage.
A word here on something that Ashland does marvelously with every production: A pet peeve of mine is how a theater company handles the transition from the world the audience has just come from and the world you want to introduce them to. I've seen shows on Broadway and in regional and community theaters all over the U.S. but OSF does it best: They control the moment between the two worlds with amazing dexterity. On Broadway I've seen ushers with flashlights seating late patrons and their bags of souvenirs as the action is already underway. At OSF, they get the cell phone admonitions out of the way (usually in a fashion that is linked to the show) then the music begins to rise and the lights begin to fall and you feel transported. It's the equivalent of an overture. In this production, as the audience is still filing in the players begin to assemble for a vocal recital on stage. We get a glimpse of the characters and their relationships. In a very effective and comic moment, the usual recorded OSF admonitions regarding cell phones and cameras begins to play and surprises the two youngest Bennet daughters, who vainly search for the source of the mysterious voice. Then the characters take their seats and the "concert" begins - tellingly with a song from Twelfth Night. Then the lights dim to black, the scene changes, and we're off and running.
All in all, a really charming production. No deeper meaning is imparted, but we do get a lovely afternoon's entertainment: a window into the world of manners Jane Austen style, a captivating love story, and an invitation to a great party. I have great respect for Libby Appel's directing, especially of the Festival's non-Shakespeare offerings. Her Bus Stop, Three Sisters, and Paradise Lost were fascinating shows, and this adds to her laudable canon. I measure my admiration for the show by my desire as the lights went up that my wife Vicky had been here to see it with me. Great fun!
And I can't wait to finish the book!
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