As I drive down to the Gryphon Theatre on a cold but mercifully wind- and rain-free winter evening, I wonder about the production I’m about to see. I’m curious, because making a play out of a D H Lawrence story seems like quite the brave move in these modern times.

There used to be a great vogue for Lawrence, but his reputation took a bad knock when Kate Millet’s Sexual Politics (1971) called him out for flagrant phallocentrism. How will playwright Keith Scott, director Annabel Hensley and the cast deal with this aspect of Lawrence’s work?

I’m also looking forward to finding out how the production utilises other aspects of Lawrence’s writing: his perfect pitch for dialogue, brilliance at evoking physical atmosphere, ability to craft the ordinary details of ordinary lives into deep-running emotional dramas … I could go on.

But let’s step back for a moment and lay down some context. It’s 1918 and we’re in rural England. Jill and Nellie live on a farm where they struggle to make a living. One of their problems is that a male fox is stealing their chickens. Finally, Nellie has a chance to shoot the fox, but doesn’t. Instead, she feels a strange mystical connection with the beautiful, bold animal.

Enter Henry, a young soldier back from the war. The women invite him to stay – they are hospitable people, there’s a shortage of beds locally, they’d like some company. New relationships develop, which create complications and conflicts, and these are worked through over the play’s 90-minute duration.

To simplify a little, it’s a play about love – between a man and woman, and between women. Not just any love, though – Scott follows the original fairly closely, which means that we are talking about love as understood by D H Lawrence. His take differs, to put it mildly, from that of most ordinary folk. He was a proponent of love at a subconscious, non-verbal, mystical/physical level. He also crusaded against love as practised all too often by those same ordinary folk I mentioned earlier (think ‘sex in the head’, sentimental love and notions of equality between the sexes).

We see this vision of love worked through in the play, meaning that it’s not just a story about who loves whom and who wins out in the end, but how they love – is it the ‘right way’ as per Lawrence? Or the old way?

These are tricky ideas which present dramatic challenges. How do you plausibly represent on stage someone who is experiencing love (or anything else) at a near-mystical subconscious level? The novella and script accept this challenge. Henry (Sven Hoerler) isn’t very articulate, but he’s represented as being ardent and persuasive. Nellie (Lottie Butcher) is susceptible to experiencing life at the Lawrence-approved level, hence her connection to the beautiful fox – and Henry. Jill (Yasmine Alani) is stuck at the wrong level, protective of her and Nellie’s unambitious life, distrustful of Nellie’s dreaming and Henry’s determination.

Nevertheless, it seems to me that this production works best when it’s giving us the interplay between the three characters together, and between Nellie and Jill. Whether relaxed or intense and emotional, these are mostly ‘non-Laurentian’ moments that ordinary folk like your reviewer can relate to. They are also where the actors really deliver, with conviction and sensitivity – particularly Alani, who is always comfortable, credible and sympathetic on stage.

The relationship between Nellie and Henry I find harder to go along with. The audience must believe in Henry’s ability to persuade Nellie but, for me, it doesn’t quite come across. Instead, their relationship seems to jump abruptly from phase to phase, which I put down to a mix of script and direction. It’s also something to do with the interaction between Hoerler and Butcher. On the first night, he seems a bit cool and anxious, while she seems remote. I struggle to believe I’m watching that old black magic at work.

The play ends with a coda which focuses on the trials of loving ‘the right way’, as defined by Lawrence. I’m not convinced that this adds much that’s positive to the play, but the final vignette is lovely, thanks to well-designed composing and lighting.

The production is simply and effectively framed, with a farmhouse kitchen and an outside area (Ewen Coleman: set design). Key events happen offstage for practical reasons; this is managed with varied success in terms of suspense and impact, including shock value.

Credit to the hard-working people on lighting (Jan de Geest: design; Tim Gruar; operator) and sound (Alan Burden: design; Fabian Chumko: operator) for delivering the goods.

The first night of a new play is a big deal, and there are multiple performances yet to come. If I were director Hensley, I’d be delighted that the first night has gone off without a hitch and was well received by its audience. I might also be considering ways to tighten up the production to get the most out of this brave new show.

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