Written by Jane Austen

In a New Version by Jennifer Dick

Directed by Gordon Barr

Review by Dominic Corr

Bard in the Botanics

Navigating the minefield of Regency courtship in the unpredictable Scottish summer requires a delicate touch, yet the latest outdoor venture from Bard in the Botanics proves that romantic folly translates remarkably well into open-air theatre in Glasgow; just ensure you’ve done a tuck-shop raid and a bathroom break ahead of time. Set within the lush greenery of the surrounding Botanics, Gordon Barr directs an energetic staging of Emma, utilising a fresh textual streamlining crafted by Jennifer Dick that embraces theatrical intimacy over grand historical pageantry (though expect plenty costumes and corsets).

In wrestling with heavy contemporary re-evaluations, the piece chooses to indulge more so in the comedic machinations of aristocratic meddling, letting the absurdities of nineteenth-century social posturing do the heavy lifting. What emerges is a delightfully chaotic romp through class anxieties and misplaced romantic confidence, proving that misguided self-assurance is a timeless human flaw.

Constructing a narrative around a protagonist who continuously orchestrates the emotional lives of those around her demands an actor capable of maintaining total charm while behaving completely recklessly. Taking the reins as the central orchestrator, Esme Bayley anchors the entire production with commanding stage presence, addressing the audience directly to justify her misguided romantic schemes; in some delightful fourth-wall ‘dear reader’ breaks which don’t overstay their welcome. She brings a sharp, sparkling intelligence to the role, balancing aristocratic smugness with moments of genuine, albeit belated, self-awareness. Playing opposite her, James Boal offers a wonderfully grounded counterweight as the voice of reason, navigating a dramatic arc that shifts seamlessly from righteous frustration during a disastrous outdoor gathering to the quiet realisation of genuine affection.

Juggling a multitude of roles with limited resources requires significant theatrical agility, and the supporting ensemble leans into the absurdity of quick-change doubling with infectious enthusiasm; but it’s perhaps the weakest doubling for this season of BITB, with numerous roles crossing over a few lines of familiarity. Pantomime dame, and BITB legacy-wonderment Alan Steele delivers comic relief, leaning into fragile physical comedy as the protagonist’s fussy, health-obsessed parent before vanishing behind a bonnet to tackle another character entirely. But the script limits Steele’s fullest range (see their award-nominated performance of Falstaff). Meanwhile, Lawrence Boothman showcases impressive versatility, pivoting smoothly from a modest, proud livestock owner into an insufferably smug clergyman; offering a cleaner break between roles. Similarly, Johnny Panchaud pulls off a clever physical transformation, shifting to and from his charismatic, deceptive performance as Churchill. Rightly becoming more prominent on Scottish stages, with further main-stary and leading roles, Star Penders shines brightly as the gullible, wide-eyed young Harriet Smith, but her secondary characterisation suffers somewhat from the script’s condensed pacing, slipping into the background too quickly; it’s Emma’s biggest flaw in how the timings stretch the production to near tiring levels, but don’t allow enough time for characters to flourish or be expanded upon.

Balancing the swift momentum of a stripped-down script against the audience’s expectation of familiar romantic beats is always a tricky tightrope walk, yet the production manages its rapid transit through the story with flair. Running gags about sudden illnesses are cleverly deployed to excuse absent figures during crucial moments, adding a meta-theatrical layer of fun to the performance. The pacing drops in the second act as the mandatory narrative knots are untangled, culminating in a welcomed, if somewhat side-stepped choice to end with a spirited group dance which comes just a few minutes too late – just as the audience are trying to pack away the blankets and brace for the inevitable chill of the 10pm finish.

Refusing to take its historical setting too seriously ensures that Barr’s production lands with genuine warmth and accessible, sharp humour. While it may not break new ground in discourse, like some of the other BITB Silver Jubilee performances – the production succeeds precisely because it leans into the timeless joy of watching arrogant know-it-all’s get brought down to earth by their own hearts. It makes for an utterly charming, light-hearted summer evening that leaves the audience grinning into the dusk, proving that a little matchmaking madness is the perfect antidote to modern cynicism.

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