A beautiful and beguiling adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s classic novel Tess of the D’Urbervilles.
Ockham’s Razor and Turtle Key Arts’ circus adaptation of Tess of the D’Urbervilles is a boldly intriguing concept. Initially, I was unsure how such a lengthy and emotionally layered novel could be condensed into a two-hour performance of physical theatre. However, once the performance began all my concerns were quickly dispelled. This adaptation tells Tess’s story and explores the novel’s themes of gender, class, social norms and fate with such beauty, nuance, and originality that I was immediately transported straight into Hardy’s Wessex. It left me not only entirely convinced by this adaptation, but eager to see more work from this innovative theatre company.
Like the novel, the performance is divided into ‘phases,’ each introduced by changes in projected imagery on the set’s backdrop. Whilst the handwritten-style titles can be occasionally difficult to read, they serve an important role in grounding the audience in each chapter of Tess’s life. This was a particularly helpful guide in a production so driven by physical storytelling.
Yet, this adaptation is not completely without words. Hanora Kamen acts as the narrator, portraying an omniscient, older Tess who watches and recounts the story sporadically as it unfolds. Her narration, drawn directly from Hardy’s text, is insightfully chosen and masterfully delivered. Meanwhile Lila Naruse performs as the younger Tess, embodying the character with vulnerability and emotional depth through physical movement. This dual approach strikes a beautiful balance, allowing circus and movement to tell the story whilst preserving the poeticism of Hardy’s original prose. This combination really works to give the performance momentum whilst still maintaining clarity for the audience.
The cast move gracefully through Tina Bicât’s ever-shifting set of wooden planks, ropes, and hanging fabrics that transform seamlessly into everything from homely interiors to rural landscapes. The use of the wooden planks is particularly ingenious: performers balance, slot, and carry them to build paths and structures that mirror Tess’s journey. The performer’s handling and manipulation of the planks are not just technically impressive but also viscerally illuminating of the instability and struggle of Tess’s world. In combination with the constantly moving set, Daniel Denton’s video projections and Aideen Malone’s atmospheric lighting only enhance the storytelling and draw the audience further into Hardy’s original descriptions of Wessex.
The physical skill of the entire cast cannot be overstated. Joshua Frazer in his transformation into Alec d’Urberville is particularly impressive. His mastery of a Cyr wheel is not only an incredible display of strength and control but also an incredibly effective metaphor for Tess’s entrapment both literally and psychologically. Yet the show’s physicality is not solely confined to tension and darkness. It also provides well-timed moments of humour such as when Angel Clare (Nat Whittingham) becomes the object of affection for three milkmaids, played with great comic skill by Lauren Jamieson, Victoria Skillen, and Leah Wallings, who scramble up walls to vie for his attention and throw themselves into his arms in exaggerated, romantic swoons.
Whilst I was concerned the circus elements might have been a gimmick, this performance is in no way a spectacle for spectacle’s sake. Instead, every movement, piece of apparatus, every lift and flip serves the story, enhancing Hardy’s themes and heightening the emotional resonance of Tess’s story. The choreography (by Nathan Johnston, with co-direction from Alex Harvey and Charlotte Mooney) functions in its own right as a storytelling tool.
Despite the absence of dialogue between characters, the storytelling is never unclear. In fact, the physicality often conveys more than words could. This is shown most powerfully in how the sound of the Cyr wheel slowly crashing to the floor fills the room with a sense of dread and inevitability. And the ending, performed with Tess suspended by a rope in an aerial silks-esque routine is beautiful, haunting and transcending in a way that would be hard to capture so powerfully in narrated words.
This adaptation of Tess of the D’Urbervilles delivers a fresh and visceral retelling that captures the novel’s beauty, heartbreak and understated strength. Both unexpected and unconventional yet deeply arresting, it honours Hardy’s poetic lyricism whilst forging its own unique medium of language and storytelling.