A creaking mansion, a barren moor, three brooding women and an innocent governess – what could possibly go wrong? Come and step into the turbulent world of Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, if you dare.
The Moors, by American playwright Jen Silverman and showing at the Hope Theatre from the 11th October – 5th November, is an evocative piece of gothic horror that riffs on the experiences, imaginations and preoccupations of the Brontë sisters. While it is partially inspired by the letters of Charlotte Brontë, it is infused with characters and themes reminiscent of those featured in the novels of the Brontës.
The tale opens with governess Emilie arriving at a remote mansion, seemingly cut off from the outside world by desolate moorland. Cheerful and wholesome, Emilie attempts to integrate herself into the new family she has come to serve but is increasingly bewildered by their unapproachable and erratic natures. While older sister Agatha (Imogen Mackenzie) is all aloof contemptuousness, the younger sister Huldey (Kenia Fenton) is an overexcitable eccentric, brimming with loneliness and desperation. Meanwhile the manor is staffed by a malcontent maid with two distinct personas, Marjory and Malory. Then there is the matter of the mysterious brother, Branwell, whose charming letters were the lure that motivated Emilie to take the job in the first place – but much to Emilie’s chagrin he is nowhere to be found. As time wears on Emilie finds herself inexplicably drawn to Agatha, and her true purpose for being invited to the manor is fatefully revealed. Meanwhile Huldey’s obsessive hatred of her older sister threatens to consume her. By the end of the play Emilie is a changed woman, haughty and withdrawn. One wonders if it is her relationship with Agatha or the windswept harshness of the moors that have permeated her soul and hardened her heart, or perhaps that harshness has lived within her all along.
Jen Silverman’s script is a bold, daring take on both the internal and external landscapes that infused the Brontë sisters’ lives and literary works. It is a gripping tale of female isolation, of wild, sad women whose loveless origins and barren environment have rendered them strange, volatile, even destructive. At its best the play is self-aware, absurdist and darkly comical. Tamara Fairbairn in particular gives a standout performance as Marjory/Malory, with her unsettling doll-like demeanour and hilariously sardonic line deliveries often stealing the show. Another highlight is Kenia Fenton’s gloriously extravagant musical number in the second half, as Huldey revels triumphantly in the aftermath of a climactic murder. Witnessing Fenton’s expressive dance moves, wide-eyed glee and soaring vocals, one can’t help but be reminded of Kate Bush’s “Wuthering Heights” music video, or “Let It Go” from Frozen.
For all its strengths, the script’s attempts to explore weighty emotional themes never quite come to fruition. At times the writing feels diffuse, and the characters come across as underdeveloped despite strong performances from the entire cast. Notably, the sapphic attraction that develops between Emilie and Agatha feels like an afterthought and deserves a great deal more substance and stage time than it is given. Some of the most emotionally affecting scenes of all are in the Mastiff and Moorhen subplot, a simple love story playing out between two animals that ultimately ends in tragedy. These scenes are imbued with incredible sensitivity by Peter Hadfield and Matilda Childs, and serve as a compelling counterweight to the main plot. There is something intriguing in the animal characters giving voice to the acute loneliness and existential agony that the human characters are unable to articulate.
With director Phil Bartlett at the helm and a formidable cast of recent drama school graduates, The Moors is bound to delight any fan of the gothic genre. Sophia Pardon’s striking set and costumes are complemented superbly by Julian Starr’s haunting score and sound design.