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Flash Review 1, 2-10: Shared Experience
Dance and Theater Share Center Stage in "Jane Eyre" at BAM
By Paul Ben-Itzak
Copyright 2000 The Dance Insider
have been experimenting--sometimes swimmingly, sometimes founderingly--with
mixing text into their dances, theater directors and playwrights
have been increasing the presence of dance--and its choreographic
complexity--in their plays. I guess it was only a matter of time
before a director thought to use a sort of dancer doppelganger to
enact in motion the repressed feelings of a protagonist. The surprise
in Shared Experience's usage of this device in director Polly Teale's
adaptation of Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre," seen Wednesday at
the Brooklyn Academy of Music's Harvey Theater, is that, for the
most part...it works!! Swimmingly.
From what my
companion at last night's show told me--haven't read the book myself--the
character of Bertha does indeed exist in Bronte's novel. She's the
squire Rochester's sequestered West Indian wife, who went mad after
Rochester wouldn't let her go dancing and she went anyway, and who
he has now locked up in his attic back in England. The addition
made by Teale is that the same actress who plays Bertha, Harriette
Ashcroft, also enacts a new character, Jane's repressed inner passionate
self--the expressive, heated soul that wants to break through Jane's
cold, traumatized-in-childhood exterior. The curtain rises on Jane
reading about the West Indies, with this alter ego practically attached
to her back. They dance together; they savor West Indian pineapple
together, with Ashcroft even sucking the pineapple juice off Jane's
fingers. Indeed, it's not apparent at the beginning that Ashcroft
is a doppelganger; they could be best friends, sisters and possibly
lovers. When the son of the orphan Jane's guardian accosts her,
the alter ego gives as good as Jane gets; they bite him. The servants
and mother rush in; Jane, and alter ego, are removed to the "red
room," where her foster father died, and locked up. Jane ultimately
wrestles with the alter ego, who succumbs; at which point Jane is
able to leave-a pyrric victory, really, as her own passion is the
loser, imprisoned again in its own red room.
As my companion
pointed out, this beginning looked like a bad sign; would Ashcroft
be appended to Penny Layden's Jane for the duration? Not to worry;
she isn't; more effectively, she hovers, usually in that room atop
a winding set of stairs, its four walls invisible to us in the audience.
When Jane takes up a post as governess of Rochester's household,
things get interesting. Ashcroft is sometimes Bertha, the mad wife,
and sometimes Jane's alter ego. Sometimes they seem the same person.
Are they? When the plot starts to devote more attention to the actual
Bertha--whose existence provides plot pivots at two junctures--the
concept becomes intriguing, suggesting as it does a meld of Jane,
the would-be wife of Rochester, and Bertha, the crazy locked up
wife. Is the link only figurative, suggesting Jane has imprisoned
her own passionate side to keep it from dancing as Rochester has
locked up his passionate wife? Or is it literal: Is this Jane's
fate, too, if she really gives in to passion and marries Rochester?
The danger in
having a complete 'nother person enact and physicalize the main
character's emotional arc is that it could be come a substitute
for the actress playing the main character actually doing the work.
But this does not happen here. The doppelganger amplifies, hints
at, compliments, even illustrates Jane's tussle with her own truly
passionate soul as she alternates between bridling it and letting
it fly free. Whenever Layden, as Eyre, lets her passions soar, Ashcroft
is calmed and, ultimately, freed.
step Shared Experience's "Jane Eyre" represents for the utilization
of dance in theater is this: Often, dance inserted into a play can
seem just an artful but disposable adornment, signifying little
more than flourish--the crossing of a 't,' the dotting of an 'i.'
Director Teale, however, aided by company movement specialist Liz
Ranken and by Ashcroft, provides us with an alternate universe--not
unlike a sports broadcast providing a view of the action from a
different, close-up angle. "Jim, let's go to the inner-field camera
and see what Jane looks like on the inside right now!" With all
due respect to the extraordinary acting of Layden, I suspect that
a dance fan, at least, could almost go and watch just her alter
ego Ashcroft and get an--albeit abstracted--telling of the story.
The device, and both Ashcroft and Layden's synergistic enactment
of it, do highlight that, dramatic plot turns notwithstanding, this
is not just a gothic romance. The true story here is Jane's wrestling
with her inner demon--one that turns out in truth to be, as Rochester
keeps telling her, a liberating angel.
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