British director Emma Rice gives Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights a playfully hard shake in this vivid, pop-gothic staging, one that sacrifices some of the bleak intensity of the source material during its mission to entertain a broad audience.

Lovers of the novel may find themselves resisting initially, but it’s hard not to be swayed by the irreverence of Rice’s theatricality and the vigour of this touring cast of British triple threats.

Wuthering Heights (London cast, with Nandi Bhebhe left)). Photo © Steve Tanner

Rice builds the world of the novel from the stuff of old-school, actor-powered playmaking. For example, when new tenant Lockwood (a dazzling Sam Archer in weekend farmer green wellies – a telling anachronism) arrives at Wuthering Heights determined to pay his respects to his new landlord, Heathcliff (John Leader), Rice conjures the storm in shrieking voices from performers side-of-stage, the force of the wind by actors plucking at Lockwood’s coat.

Scene changes become dances. Wuthering Heights itself is a door on wheels pushed around by cast and crew. Clouds scud across a video screen sky, but apart...