Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie first appeared in The New Yorker in 1961.Now, at the centre of The National Theatre of Scotland’s latest production, Gayle Rankin mesmerises with her portrayal of the intoxicating and enigmatic girls’ school teacher that is a challenge to pin down. We are left with a lingering, harrowing portrayal of the rigidity of the educational system in 1930s Edinburgh, and the dangers of inflicting ideologies upon young people.
Rankin seizes the audience’s attention — we feel in equal parts admiration and fear surrounding her next move. We admire her youthful charisma which lures the ‘Brodie Set’ (her favourite students) into worshipping her, but become privy to the icy cracks beneath this upbeat persona – such as when she sings praise of Mussolini and condones Mr Lloyd’s predatory behaviour. Rankin switches between vocal timbres, with an airy, warm delivery snapping into a growling ferocity. The second act disintegrates her ‘prime,’ as Brodie’s ability to ‘inspire’ her students morphs into a manifestation of her own self-importance — to her, the girls are extensions of herself. The play takes its time to draw the audience in — with an overly long run-time of three hours — but slowly exposes the dangers in Brodie’s treatment of her ‘Set.’
The actors for the ‘Brodie Set’ all capture the wide-eyed innocence that leads her students to become ensnared by her. Standouts are Bobby Rainsbury as Sandy, who switches from being enamoured by Brodie to becoming the central threat to her. Sophie Fortune is sprightly and loyal as Joyce Emily Hammond, in a sombre portrait of innocence corrupted. Maureen Beattie is a rigid and rigorous Mrs Mackay, a foil to Brodie in leading her “educational abattoir.” She is an embodiment of conservative teaching methods inflicted upon 1930s schoolchildren.
Anna Orton’s costumes — for Brodie in particular — are striking, and at odds with the lifeless staircase making up the set. Rankin emerges in a tight fuschia skirt and flowing, conspicuous green sleeves, before switching to sultry zebra-prints. Ditching her heels to prance barefoot across the stairs, Rankin embodies Brodie’s rejection of formality, in a vibrant rebellion.
The sound design is anachronistic, punctuating scene changes with disarming blends of ominous violins and deafening trap beats. These often become overbearing, into an overly unsubtle nod at the growing darkness the play descends into. Similarly, the projections of Brodie and Mackay’s contrasting mantras (“goodness, truth and beauty” and “safety first”) are excessively blunt and at times distracting from the performances. Chloe Lamford’s sparse and intimidating set, however, replicates this conformity and rigidity at the girls’ school by drawing central attention to the blocking of the actors. The staircase reflects ever-changing power dynamics between Brodie and her ‘Set’ — such as when the girls climb up the staircase to sit on her “level.”
Vicky Featherstone’s adaptation of Spark’s novel is visceral, psychological, and unafraid of its darkness. It draws attention to abuses of authority and the dangers of political ideologies, remaining all too relevant to a modern audience first experiencing Spark’s cautionary tale.
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie is playing at The Lyceum Theatre until 18 October before touring the rest of Scotland. You can buy tickets here
Image Credit: Mihaela Bodlovic
