Emma Rice’s electric stage adaptation of Bronte’s 1847 gothic classic ‘Wuthering Heights’ pushes boundaries and pumps new life into this decades old novel. The play will be at the national theatre from the 3rd February to the 19th March, before moving on to Hall for Cornwall, Truro.

The adaptation is faithful to the novel in terms of intensity and melodrama, however the method through which the story was told was moulded to a more full-bodied stage environment. Rice artfully merges rock songs with the intense feeling of the tale and uses folk music and ensemble dances to embody the Moor. The Yorkshire Moors have always been an integral element to the story, by providing the gloomy, moody backdrop to the melodrama- very fitting for a drizzly mid-February afternoon- and giving the essential feeling of isolation that drives so much of the action. In personifying the Moor with an unconventional spin on the classic Greek chorus role (led by Nandi Bhebhe), she takes the setting one step further to emphasise, and tentatively parody, the dark gothic tradition. They aid the storytelling and build the atmosphere through their wailing songs and rallying dances. Regrettably, by using the Moor as a chorus role, the witty character of Nelly (and her unreliable narration) is lost in the transition from book to play, but the intensity and occasionally comedic narration of the moor, and their interactions with human characters more than makes up for this loss.

By far the highlight of this production, however, was Lucy McCormick’s bold portrayal of Catherine Earnshaw. The emotionally climactic moment of the first half was her rock song, accompanied with all the bells and whistles- smoke, strobe lighting, and a dramatic fling of the microphone stand. Her exaggerated and disturbingly unhinged movements building enormous stage presence that commands attention, which even carries through to when she becomes a voiceless ghost in the second half. Her haunting, wailing, and overall beautiful songs are filled with more emotion than put across with any other spoken lines. It was a delight and a privilege to see onstage.

Despite the melodrama of some of the action, this production was self-aware without being self-conscious, acknowledging the confusing source text and the exhausting nature of the constantly heightened emotion. At the beginning, Rice held the audiences’ hands as we got to grips with the play, using placards to explain the family tree, and having characters reexplain family history to the narrator. The comedic explanation scene does not take away from the dark nature of the novel, as Rice uses tonal shifts both to provide relief and build sympathy for characters that otherwise would have served purely to be mocked.

Whether it is in spite of its’ quirks or due to them, it is up to you, as this production is a must-see adaptation of a must-read novel. Brilliantly unique, shockingly electric, and backed by a charismatic cast, Wuthering Heights at the National Theatre did not disappoint.