Jessica Harris watches the RSC production of a nineteenth-century masterpiece.
Taking on George Eliot’s epic, Middlemarch, is not an undertaking for the faint-hearted. But the RSC is undeterred by a challenge, and the decision to bring the novel to the stage pays off. With Eliot herself becoming a character in her own story, this production bursts onto the stage like a firework, crackling with energy and life.
Set in the 1830s, a decade marked by reform, the production uses doubling to bring nearly 40 characters to the stage. Each is as clear as a bell, and the complexity of extended families and neighbours is made plain. The impact they have on one another is played upon throughout, creating the sense of an interdependent community, warts and all.
The lot of women is explored in depth, as are the different ways in which they respond to their circumstances. For most, marriage was a necessity, offering not only financial security but also a sense of purpose. Dorothea Brooke, idealistic and independent in spirit, nevertheless looks to her husband to guide her towards fulfilment. Rosamond Vincy, meanwhile, hopes to climb the social ladder through her husband’s aristocratic connections. Mary Garth, by contrast, asks for neither more nor less than honest work and the reciprocation of her love.
In the character of physician Tertius Lydgate, controversial developments in medicine and the shift towards greater use of scientific principles are developed with a fine sense of irony. Tertius’ many run-ins with the wider community are summed up in Rosamond urging him to be nice to those in his practice and send out medicines as other doctors do.
The topic of religious hypocrisy is also central. Bulstrode, banker, evangelical Methodist, and a man of standing in the community, justifies his immoral deeds with overblown words and posturing.

The scene in which Will Ladislaw, whom Bulstrode has disinherited, turns down his offer of tainted money is electric. So too is the scene in which Bulstrode tasks Mrs Abel with caring for Raffles (who is coercing him), giving her keys to the spirits cupboard, in the knowledge that alcohol will kill him.
Satire is used freely to critique the politics of the 1830s, when the Reform Bill was being hotly debated, with its proposals to extend the franchise and bring an end to rotten boroughs. As a contender for a seat in Parliament, and a backer of reform, Mr Brooke happily declares: “I want to keep myself independent about Reform, you know. I don’t want to go too far.”
Through the character of Edward Casaubon, the pride of the aspiring intellectual is critiqued and the pedantry of dry research is thoroughly dammed. Casaubon will not let Dorothea into his domain, in case she finds him lacking and judges him.
The significance of wealth pervades the piece. Dorothea has too much, and it sits upon her conscience as she seeks ways of using it for the greater good. Tertius faces bankruptcy through aspiring to a lifestyle beyond his means. Fred Vincy allows money to slip through his fingers through gambling and a lavish life. Preoccupation with money is a constant in people’s lives.
The sheer amount of story to get through means that scenes are short and, towards the end of Part 2, there is a bit of a race to the end. Pressure on time means that Eliot’s acute observations on the period are sometimes underplayed. But there is great drama in the both Parts 1 and 2 of this production, and if some of the lesser characters feel little more than caricatures, Eliot’s wry humour and empathy are ever-present. And fine performances of the main characters make them rounded, credible and full of identifiable, very human idiosyncrasies.
Played by Amanda Root, the character of George Eliot is on stage for much of the time. In Part 1, she narrates and is someone to whom others can speak aloud their thoughts. In Part 2, she becomes more of a character in her own right, bringing to life her role as author. Her reflections on her own life offer a fascinating insight into the independent nature of this powerful writer.
The production is set on a bare stage, with a sense of community created by wooden arches suspended over the whole. Staging, from sofas and pianos, and from kitchen tables to death beds, is used to create a sense of place, whilst soft lighting breaks up the stage into more intimate spaces.
The significance of the novvel’s different locations, however, is missing, with only limited differentiation between the Casaubon’s Lowick Estate and the Vincy’s house, and between the Garth’s house and Stone Court. Costumes add an element of humour in the enormous sleeves of the women, and a comment on the changing times in their above-the-ankle dresses.
Stand out performances include Nia Towle as a passionate and dynamic Dorothea, Emma McDonald as a proud and stubborn Rosamond, and Andrew Richardson as the increasingly tense and distressed Tertius Lydgate. Rory Alexander pairs tenderness with moral resolution in his performance as Will Ladislaw and Peter Forbes delivers a deliciously bumbling Mr Brooke. John Hodgkinson is the imperious and bullying Mr Bulstrode, whilst Ian Drysdale delivers a dry-as-dust Mr Casaubon.
Middlemarch was directed by Jeremy Herrin. The writer was Nina Raine. Set and costumes were designed by Grace Smart and the lighting designer was Ben Jacobs.
It is on at the RSC in Stratford until 16th January. For further information visit rsc.org.uk
Photos by (c) Johan Persson


