Ah! Vanitas Vanitatum!

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Review

'Vanity Fair' by William Makepeace Thackeray, adapted by Declan Donnellan

The reason for the continued popularity of Vanity Fair, both as a book and in its various adapted forms, is that its characters are so deliciously imagined and developed. The very reason Thackeray’s long and complex novel works in Declan Donnellan’s stage adaptation is the attention to detail and the fast-paced revelation of the viciousness of the captivating characters.

Amelia Sedley (Kim Gerard) and Rebecca Sharp (Sophia Linden) are on the cusp of womanhood, having completed Miss Pinkerton’s school for young ladies on Chiswick Mall. Amelia, blessed with loving parents and a sizeable fortune as well as a sweet nature appears to be set for life, while Becky, orphaned and with a hunger engendered by poverty, is prepared for governess-ship in a crumbling country estate. Since birth, Amelia has been involved in an arranged marriage to a man she is obsessively and misguidedly in love with. Becky has her wits, her looks and her shamelessness, and will stop at nothing to become rich and achieve her dream: to be able to look down on her former playmate with an upper-class sneer.

Tony Cownie’s production is wonderfully fluid and full of life. A company of skilled and talented actors move effortlessly and convincingly between characters and settings, transforming Neil Murray’s decadent and decaying set moment by moment. The design beautifully accompanies the ethos of Vanity Fair: a subtle layer of filth cloys both costumes and set, and the characters sneer from picture frames. The narrative and action are so intertwined that transition from one to the other is not marred by any change in energy levels, and they are equally engaging.

Linden and Gerard perform with a satisfying intensity their various roles as manipulative social climber and repulsively dutiful wife. No character is left untouched by the cult of class and the damaging effect of social mores, desires and follies. Even the frustratingly faithful William Dobbin (Simon Muller) is ultimately self-serving and pathetic. Cownie employs the ridiculous and comic elements of the characters and juxtaposes buffoonery with the tragedy of their situations, preventing any possibility of empathy. In the words of Thackeray, "Ah! Vanitas Vanitatum! which of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied?" The Lyceum gives new life to this age-old, beguiling question.

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