Once again, the Octagon is presenting a classic novel frantically told by a small cast; this time, it's the first novel to have been completed by Jane Austen in 1803, although it was only published posthumously in 1817.
The published script, which doubles as a programme, runs to almost a hundred pages, a lot of it in fairly lengthy paragraphs of narration, which is a lot of words to pack into two hours, but director Tessa Walker counters this with a very physical production that is constantly moving, starting with the noisy, comic birth of romantic heroine (as she describes herself) Catherine Morland (Rebecca Banatvala) to Sam Newton as her mother somewhere in the north of England (from her accent, I'm guessing Yorkshire).
As she becomes a little older, Cath becomes obsessed with gothic fiction and reenacts adventure stories with one of her many brothers, Nigel, but when he spots a blood stain on her dress, he tells her that she must now learn to behave like a "real-life" woman and be "subservient"—a word he repeats enthusiastically. The playing of roles in life as well as in stories is a major focus of this adaptation.
In a programme note, playwright Zoe Cooper describes her own experiences arriving in a "posh university town" at the age of nineteen where everyone else knew "the right sort of frocks to wear" and "which cutlery to use at a formal dinner", which mirror Cath's experiences arriving in posh Bath in an attempt to enter society through attending balls.
That is until she meets Isabella Thorpe (A K Golding), there to bag a rich husband who won't be too attentive, and they strike up a friendship with a closeness that Cooper says "I thought I recognised". Any suggestions that their relationship goes beyond friendship is made less ambiguous by some tender kisses shared onstage and descriptions of their time together offstage, including Iz's reference to "all those mornings when it was just the two of us in your bedchamber... In your bed."
But their pact—or was it just a throwaway suggestion by Cath?—to marry one another's brothers so that they can be together always is ruined firstly by Iz's brother being arrogant and obnoxious, and secondly by Cath's affection for Henry Tilney—who rejects Cath's notion that for his sisters to entrust their choice of gown to a brother is unusual in perhaps another suggestion of sexuality—made stronger when she discovers he lives in a place called Northanger Abbey, although it turns out to be nothing like the places described in her gothic novels.
After General Tilney—whose wife, who is not locked in her rooms like in Cath's stories, died three months ago rather than nine years ago—sends Cath packing when he finds out her family isn't as rich as he thought, there is a suggestion of a reunion at the end, but not the one that might be expected.
This is a slick production on designer Hannah Sibai's very pink set with a totally committed cast who all perform multiple roles playfully and with impressive energy. There are some familiar devices of this style of theatre—trunks to represent a carriage, banter and playful disagreements between the cast—but some techniques are employed very effectively, such as how the characters sometimes step out of scenes to comment on them as though reflecting on their own actions with hindsight.
While I didn't always find the storytelling clear, some scenes drag a bit and it's hard to get emotionally attached to characters in this style of heavily narrated, multi-roleing play, this is an interesting take that finds something new to say about a 'classic' text after two centuries.