Bounding on stage once more, Northern Stage presents a playful adaptation of Sherlock’s most well-known case. With a tight-knit cast of four, the quartet balance the story of a noble family line threatened by a mythical beast with both style, aplomb and accents aplenty (more on that later).
As the lights went down we were plunged head-long into an alcohol fuelled diatribe from a distinctly Geordie Sherlock with such fury that had me cringing like a kicked dog in the stalls. Surprised, I was initially repelled by this yobby slob, tripping and slopping his whiskey across the stage like an embittered housemaster. However, as any Doyle acolyte would deduce (and luckily, I had one with me that evening), this retelling follows on from an earlier case in which the duo failed to prevent a child’s death, both a good reason to rage and an excellent pretext, away from the novel’s own reasoning, to allow Watson, in the dependable English gentleman form of actor Jake Wilson Craw, to lead the main narrative in a style more recognisable to the original genre.
With action taking place in a multitude of settings from London, to the Moors, to a series of house calls with ample opportunity for tea-spilling, each scene flowed seamlessly into another within 2 acts of continuous performance without break. Calling for an extremely flexible and ingenious stage design to accommodate each backdrop change, without breaking from the dream-like semblance, the designer has truly delivered the goods by combining a fen-land backdrop with a half-sunken kitchen table which serves as both a domestic setting, raised platform and dais to Baskerville Hall modelled as a solitary dolls' house. Armed with a playground of levels and hidden props, the cast romped from high strung socialite to creepy caretaker, with a necessary injection of lively humour into what could quite easily become a funeral dirge in lesser-skilled hands. Essential nods toward Edgar Allan Poe were evident in all aspects of the lighting, sound and chilling red eyes; essential for any supernatural creature!
Based in Devon, the cast included a kaleidoscope of accents and was a truly marvellous showcase of sociolinguistics. However, this was confusing at times as pronunciation was and sometimes still is a marker of socio-economic standing and can be used to regionally ground a piece of theatre. In this case, the closest brush with the south-west coast came in the Somerset-burrs of Laura Lyons – perfectly pronounced but still an odd accent to choose considering she is the daughter of a society lady whose cut-glass tones are also presented on stage. Later, in a desperate plea to Watson, the subject of preferential treatment to the upper-classes is remarked upon by Baskerville servant Mrs Barrymore, and so in a Victorian world where the standards of 19th century society are visually presented, used to rule the narrative, and are even verbally discussed by the characters, it sticks out awkwardly for Sherlock to be played with a regional accent as the somehow unexplained exception to the rigid class rules still in place throughout the tale. Sherlock as a character is often rude and unlikeable but his charm comes from his smooth delivery and so it is a surprising decision to amputate this rather large portion of persona, in a rather self-indulgent nod toward Northern Stage’s identity in representing northern actors and rather unusual as it comes at the cost of the main character.
Detective-character assassination aside, just hop on the train with Watson to enjoy a thrill-filled adventure across the moors….
Reviewer - Natalie Bowers
on - 8/11/19
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