I've had a chance to see a production of Polly Teale's renowned play and here are some thoughts:The play seemed to be a sort of biopic, chronicling the lives of the Brontë siblings from childhood through adulthood. Unlike other versions in this genre, however, Polly Teale's take is an intermingling of fact and fiction, reality and fantasy. The play is as much a celebration of the sisters' lives as it is of Brontë criticism, for we get multiple interpretations fused together in this version.
All the actors performed well, delivering their lines with ease. There was also an amusing portrayal of Arthur Bell Nichols as a moony-eyed simpleton (minus the sideburns). With the exception of Anne's characterization, the others were more like their respective stereotypes: Emily was often reserved and rather contemplative, Charlotte seemed bossy and ambitious, Patrick cold and distant, Branwell reckless and weak. Anne, however, was quite bubbly and headstrong. She wasn't portrayed here as someone meek and shy as so many biographies have affirmed, including the biopic The Brontës of Haworth.
What I didn't like about the acting, however, was the over-emphasis on an Irish accent. As it happened to be American actors who performed all the Brontë sisters' roles, the Irish accent came off as a strained imitation, rather than something natural. It is even doubtful that that Brontës' accent, even if it had had an Irish ring to it, would have been as sharp as what it was shown to be here.
With regard to setting, it consisted of a large room with a fireplace on the right, which was near the door. On the left, hanging on the upper portion of the wall was a mirror that reflected the scenes taking place directly beneath. Hinged to the back of the room (facing the audience) were three chests. And finally, in the center of the room were two tables. The first large table was complemented by three chairs and a second lone, smaller table was accompanied by a single chair. There were books and papers strewn all over the tables and near the fireplace, signifying their importance in the Brontës' lives. Teale's using the drawing room, or writing room rather, as the center in which the play unfolds, is an indication of the most crucial aspect of the Brontës lives and works: they are, first and foremost, writers in every sense of the word, and thus, it is only fair that the drawing room remains as the setting for the whole length of the play.
The setting serves as a microcosm of the sisters' inner minds. During the play, the Brontës' characters seamlessly weave in and out of the stage at opportune moments. Just as events take place in the sisters' lives, their characters also have roles within the play, at the same time. For example, as Emily thinks of a story, Catherine Linton enters the stage, armed with a pillow and dressed in a white lacy nightdress. As Branwell cries out his grief over losing Mrs. Robinson, we see Bertha writhing on the floor, her mop of hair shielding her face, giving her an almost animal-like appearance. We, the audience, see the characters on stage as if they were elements of the sisters' own psyche.
Since I am quite familiar with Bronte biographies and criticism, I found many such interpretations of them in this play. However, what I found rather exceptional was the portrayal of the "other woman". In this play, Bertha and Catherine are played by the same actress. The former is scantily clad, with a marked corset revealing a voluptous frame, and a ruffled skirt over which lay remnants of a red, tattered apron. Bertha's hair was untidy and coarse, serving as a reminder of the "unmanageable" nature of her character. Futher, her movements are both ferocioulsy sexual and instinctively animal-like. On the other hand, Catherine Linton appears with her hair tied together in a neat braid, wearing a nightdress of virginal white, her voice soft and melancholy. By having the same actress portray both women--Bertha the madwoman, and an almost angelic, soulful, Catherine, Teale confirms the existance of a split personality for women, a fact prominent in nineteenth-century literature, famously postulated in Gilbert and Gubar's The Madwoman in the Attic.
Another woman who takes center stage in the Brontës' lives, especiall Branwell's, is Mrs. Robinson, who ironically does not appear on stage, although she is acted out by both Bertha and Catherine. When Branwell refers to Mrs. Robinson, he stresses her passionate nature, her over-indulgence of feelings, the rawness of her emotions. Just as talks of her, we see Bertha alongside him, her motions highly eroticized. On the other hand, when Catherine Linton speaks of an unhappy marriage, being unable to relate to her husband but yearning to unite with her former love, this is not unlike Mrs. Robionson, who is also a married woman, and whose plight, as it becomes clear, rouses us just as Catherine's does. By aligning Mrs. Robinson with Bertha, who is aligned with Catherine, we see that all those three women are connected: they could be one and the same. Despite Mrs. Robionson's not appearing on the stage, we know that she is in fact there the whole time. Though invisible, she is never absent, a situation that resembles the power of the Brontës to transcend obscurity.
I admire Polly Teale for unearthing some controversial issues that deserve to be examined. By having a drunken, livid Branwell attack Charlotte in an abusive manner, Teale asks us to consider the ill-effects of domestic abuse which was a difficult issue in the Victorian era more than in our present time. Moreover, Branwell's manner of clutching Charlotte, groping parts of her body, strangling and flinging her violently as the other sisters watch in shock and powerlessness, is not far from sexual abuse, hinting the possibility that such an act is not uncommon in middle-class Victorian households such as the Brontës', despite the latter's unwillingness to acknowledge it. In this way, Teale also brings to our consciousness the possibility of incest, which could also explain the siblings' neuroses, especially Branwell's.
Teale's treatement of Charlotte also hinges on turning her into quite an unlikeable person. Fiercely ambitious, repeatedly Charlotte says that she wants to be famous, that she wants to be "forever known". This obsession makes her increasingly dissatisfied with Branwell's failure and his squandering the favors his father has bestowed on him. As Emily defends Branwell, this only makes Charlotte get into rows with her sister. The Charlotte in this play is short-tempered, prone to flights of rage. She can be quite bossy and jealous about her sisters' works, especially Emily's. The play suggests that after Emily's death, it was Charlotte who burned all her letters as well as Emily's second novel that was nearing completion, if not already complete by the time of her death.
Besides focusing on the Brontës' lives as writers, its innovations in stage setting and characterization, its ability to provoke the minds of the viewers and challenge commonly held notions of the Brontes and the Victorians, Polly Teale's Brontë is a play that intrigues and captivates, adding new twists that will appeal to any one--whether you are a Brontë aficionado, or don't have the faintest idea of them beyond English class.
*NB: The picture above is not from the production I saw. Though it is an image taken from another production, this scene closes the play.
