“Silence has sometimes a remarkable power of showing itself as the disembodied soul of feeling wandering without its carcase, and it is then more impressive than speech.” Sergeant Troy’s wooing of Bathsheba with his swordplay (made famous in John Schlesinger’s 1967 film) shows the truth of Thomas Hardy’s words. Jessica Swale’s new adaptation of Hardy’s 1874 novel also offers a gentler instance. Bathsheba asks her silent admirer, the shepherd Gabriel Oak, to renounce his place beside her at a rustic feast in favour of neighbouring farmer and would-be suitor, Boldwood. No words are spoken, but disappointment presses like a weight on Oak’s shoulders; joy lightens Boldwood’s step and brightens his eyes. The audience – feeling for Oak and knowing what misinterpretation Boldwood will place on the invitation – gasps aloud.

Such moments, though, are rare in Swale’s production (which she also directs). The action races frenetically, as if to cram in everything (although, like Thomas Vinterberg’s new film, omitting Troy’s fairground performance). Hardy’s tale of thwarted loves needs more breathing space (as in scenes underscored by Catherine Jayes’s music, performed by the cast). However, the pace may relax over the course of the run, and the play compensates for speed by strongly conveying the novel’s pastoral atmosphere, its gallery of contoured characters and its earthy humour. Philip Engleheart’s design of movable wooden frames suggests rusticity without tweeness; James Whiteside’s lighting makes seasons pass. In a multi-skilled, well-matched ensemble, Emma Jerrold’s maidservant deserves special mention.

• At the Watermill, Newbury until 23 May