Elizabeth Gaskell wrote much more ambitious, radical novels than her 1853 Cranford (and how about a film of Ruth, Mary Barton or the amazing Sylvia's Lovers, instead of another Austen, hey?). But the charm of the book remains, residing in Gaskell's wryly affectionate sketches of a small Northern town mostly made up of widows and spinsters, and based on Gaskell's childhood home of Knutsford, Cheshire.
The episodic, digressive, observational nature of the novel, originally published in installments, surely makes it a challenge for adaptors to find a dramatic pulse. But Heidi Thomas did a pretty perfect job on the cast-to-the-hilt BBC series (2007-2009), cleverly combining plots and incidents from other Gaskell works to make a truly delightful adaptation that did justice to the material's comic and tragic turns.
The new stage version, written by Lin Coghlan and Shaun McKenna, who recently had an RSC hit with their take on The Forsyte Saga, can't match the BBC's adaptation. Although it works by compression, where that one worked by expansion, it doesn't entirely feel all-of-a-piece, and the sense of social change and historical context is diminished. Still, there are enough pleasing elements in Josh Roche's lively, speedy production to make for an enjoyable evening.
For some reason, Coglan and McKenna opt to have the tale told not by the novel's insider/outsider narrator Mary Smith (who is entirely absent in this account) but by a Gaskell surrogate, Eliza Cleghorn (the author's middle name), to whom they also give some of Gaskell's real-life history. Played by Phoebe Pryce with a wry smile and a slowly-revealed sense of loss, as well as certain stubborn prejudices, Eliza introduces us to the town's rules and social hierarchies, as personified by the contrasting sisters Matty and Deborah Jenkyns, the snobbish Mrs. Jamieson, the highly-strung Miss Pole, and the fretful Mrs. Forrester.
The adaptation opens with a flashback: the moment of innocent, mischievous cross-dressing that got the Jenkyns' brother Peter so soundly punished by the siblings' father that the boy fled and hasn't been heard of since. The suggestion of a queer attachment between Peter and the character of Tom Holbrook, plus some cheeky (almost) remarks from the Jenkyns' maid Martha, are as "revisionist" as the production gets. Natalie Johnson's set and costume design keep things unfussily in period (bonnets to the fore) and give the cast plenty of space on the tiny stage to develop their characters.
Mostly - and despite widely roving accents that in a few cases, had long departed the North by the end of the performance I attended - the actors deliver. I especially loved Abigail Cruttenden's doubling as the censorious Deborah, for whom even the eating of an orange - involving, as it does, "sucking" - must be done in private, and as the visiting Lady Glenmire, who surprises everyone with her openness, humour and warmth.
Sara Powell wrinkles her noise with memorable disdain as Mrs. Jamieson, while the always-hearty Alexandra Gilbreath delivers a hilarious and true Miss Pole: her reactions during the performance by the magician Signor Brunoni are almost worth the price of admission alone. Sara Crowe brings adorable sly humour to Mrs. Forester, and although the male roles offer less opportunities, Michael Lumsden supplies a touching, loveable Tom and Jonny Glynn multitasks effectively in several roles.
Tamsin Greig makes something original of Miss Matty, the emotional heart of the story. Greig is so subtly inventive an actress that you never know what she might do next; her reactions feel new-minted and she sometimes delivers a line totally unexpectedly - for instance, when she responds to Eliza with an "I wish you would", played not pleadingly but assertively. I had the sense that she was still trying things out in this performance (I saw an early preview). But she beautifully conveys Matty's sorrow at her sister's loss and the sense of liberation that comes from belatedly making her own decisions and finding her own voice and moral framework.
Grief is very much made a key them in this version, approached from contrasting perspectives and with different attitudes by various characters. And the value of opening up your perspective and changing your mind is very much celebrated. If, as a whole, the production doesn't match some of the OT's previous Christmas offerings - especially the supreme Twelfth Night of 2024 - it still sends the viewer out with a warm glow into the chilly night.
Cranford is booking at the Orange Tree until 16 January 2027. Further information here.
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