We went unschooled, unprepped, unread. Was it "Wuthering" or "Withering"?--such was the level of our conversation as we walked down the aisle to our seats. For the more schooled impressions gratefully sent by a friend, scroll down. But for me, it was endearing and enchanting on many levels. For one, chairs. I really like chairs. We run something akin to a chair orphanage out at Herrontown Woods. It's a place where abandoned chairs can have a second chance.
And what more glorious second life for a chair than to become a prop in a play? Chairs are used every which way in Wuthering Heights. Part utility, part fantasy, stacked right side up, upside down and sideways, they acquire all sorts of shapes and meanings.
There is a breaking down of borders. Actors seamlessly shift from character to stagehand, carrying off props or helping to rotate the doorway to magically shift the scene from outdoors to indoors, or carrying a sign that thoughtfully reminds the audience which character just died. When not part of the action, the actors become spectators, sitting in chairs that line the left and right of the stage. The doctor, who grows comically resigned to the tendency of characters to die--would occasionally sit on the sidelines and play cello along with the band. Puppets participate as if alive. Even characters who have died can sustain their power and presence among the living. After Isabella Linton dies in childbirth, the actress returns as a hilarious version of her son, Little Linton.
Endearing for me as a nature lover is the casting of the land itself as a character. The equivalent of a Greek chorus calls itself The Moors. The land itself looks on, comments on the abundance of human folly, sings deeply soulful melodies. The wind, too, is a character, grabbing comically at clothes, sending hair flying upward. Dark clouds cast a spell from the back screen. Wuthering, I just learned, means windy.
Comedy frequently breaks through the cracks, all the more powerful and welcome, given the tragic arcs, short and long, that nearly all the characters are trapped in. Though based on a novel written in the 1800s, the play felt to me like everyday life in the 21st century, with humanity still caught in spirals of revenge, unable to stop abusing nature--human and otherwise. Might a generation ever come along to break the cycle of self-destruction? We wait, both participants and witnesses, like the actors on stage.
The playbill, which I have misplaced, offers evidence that Heathcliff is of mixed race, and he is cast that way. Come to think of it, Heathcliff is a found child, like those chairs that form stage props or end up out at Herrontown Woods.
I saw and heard echoes from previously witnessed plays. Fiasco Theater's production of Sondheim's Into the Woods had a similar creative informality, with actors shifting out of their characters to become witnesses or musicians. The "I am the Moors" of Wuthering Heights recalled the chanted "We are the Wolves" in last year's play, The Wolves.
Wuthering Heights was conceived and developed by Emma Rice and her Wise Children theater company, adapted from the Bronte novel that a couple Victorian english professors recently called the best novel ever written in english, and which, alas, I almost surely haven't read. It doesn't hurt that Wise Children is based in Bristol, and the story takes place in Yorkshire--two of my favorite places in England.
Here, as promised, are thoughts of a more literary bent from my friend Carolyn Jones--a genuine english major!
It's fun to relive the highlights of the play. Here's what stood out to me:1. The economy and imagination of the set, as well as the fleetness of the stage crew. The scene changes flowed so naturally and, alongside the Moors' music, meant those crazy story-parts blended together in a way the book never did for me.2. The costumes were a visual feast, especially the Moors, and most especially the Head of the Moors. In my mind, he played the role of a modern griot and his costume made me think of west African storytellers/seers. I also loved the ragged knit sweaters the families wore in Part 1, because of course they were rough Yorkshire people. The comic costumes were also a delight. Brava to their costume designer.3. I appreciated the surfacing of Heathcliff's backstory and how this might have influenced his character development. It gave the story new relevance for modern audiences, and made the Moors' griot-like appearance more meaningful. It also made me think of undeveloped slave narratives in other Bronte stories. Have you read Wide Sargasso Sea? Of course neither Bronte sister specifically loaded their stories with colonial backstories, but they sensed dark edges and they left enough in their works for us to explore. It made me think how porous good stories are, and how exciting it is to see these new artistic interpretations.4. Nature was its own character and those moody clouds on the back screen did a lot of the muscle work of conveying 'atmosphere'. Interestingly, I didn't get a gothic vibe from this play even though the book itself is loaded with spookiness. I wondered if the director had deliberately diluted 'nature' into something more appealing, or whether us modern audiences are just less creeped out by dark weather. I also loved the bird/book motif, especially when she used it to convey death, as well as hope. As an english literature major, I appreciated the symbolism she loaded into those books!I could go on and on (the pacing! the comedy! the dark energy! the knowing way they played with the confusing plot!)
Other reviews:
