The Histories Cycle, dir. Michael Boyd, at the Courtyard Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon
Disclaimer: These are long and they ramble a lot. I'm taking them more or less verbatim from my notes, though getting rid of bad grammar and things I don't think about when I'm scribbling madly. ;) I'm also adding in proper act and scene numbers so that the descriptions make more sense. Due to the vagaries of train travel -- as I mentioned in the previous entry -- I missed all of Act I and the first two scenes of Act II of Henry IV, Part I.
My review of Richard II, which I saw on 20 November 2007, is here.
Henry IV, Part I
(I hadn't read this play since my first year in undergrad, so my memory of most of it was a bit fuzzy. As such, some of the comments are probably very elementary.)
I arrived toward the beginning of 2.3, during Lady Percy's speech. Hotspur (Lex Shrapnel) was just as excitable as he had been in Richard II, and though he's symbolically tossed away the coat he stole from Bolingbroke's close (don't laugh, he totally did), he's still doing a creditable quasi-medieval Matrix impression. Lady Percy (Ann Ogbomo) was quite forceful -- as she should be -- and they complemented one another well, although someone I was talking to during the interval thought the scene wasn't passionate enough. It seemed like they were emphasising Hotspur's single-mindedness, which worked for me. Rather poignant bit toward the end when she ultimately fails to dissuade him from his Very Bad Plan to steal the throne, and he runs off, leaving her alone centre stage.
Hal (Geoffrey Streatfield) and company entered Mistress Quickly's from trapdoors -- appropriate Hell imagery there (especially with the area below the stage lit in red) -- wearing paper crowns, which became a recurring image. Poins looked rather like the actor playing Green in Richard II (and was wearing a very pink coat that would have looked well on Richard himself). Sadly I missed the first appearance of zombie!Richard, but his many appearances in the second part of Henry IV made up for it.
Mistress Quickly was in red and white and looked very madam-ish -- not to mention rather Victorian, which was interesting. Falstaff (David Warner) was obviously having a great time and seemed a bit more...if not sympathetic, at least more comprehensible than I remember him being when I read the play. Maybe it's just me, but I had no interest whatsoever in Falstaff on the page. Hal, on the other hand, was wonderful. Though I missed his dissembling speech from 1.2, he carried off the many changes of mood very well and was a happy medium between Falstaff and Hotspur.
The second half began with Hotspur and Mortimer dividing up the map (which I missed in bits, looking for a seat since I had standing room tickets and saw a few free). Hotspur's complaints about the River Trent garnered a few laughs, though I was reminded of Woodstock (4.1) with those endless lists of English counties divided up. A giant map would have been helpful there. The Welsh princess was appropriately otherworldly, with a shaved head, chain mail, and an incredibly eerie voice. Lady Percy looked rather unnerved, though Hotspur scarcely seemed to notice. Another play where men ought to listen to their wives.
Falstaff's dispute with Mistress Quickly was effectively broken up by Hal entering in full armour -- the scene before, with him and his father, was incredibly tense and worked well visually with Henry IV in black (back to it from the end of Richard II) and Hal in cream. Also an interesting contrast to the mock-argument between him and Falstaff in 2.4. I had completely forgotten that Henry compared Hal to Richard, but given all the visual hints, it works so well.
There was a nice sense of restrained violence up to the battle scenes, and it looked as though Hotspur had to literally force himself to slow down. Mortimer's treason also worked well -- he was practically twitching from then on.
The battle scene was fantastic. Everyone except Hal was wearing a replica of Henry's crown, and Douglas was literally chasing Blunt through a forest of Henries. Hal v. Hotspur was intense -- briefly broken by Falstaff faking his own death upstage with larger quantities of fake blood than Hotspur's actual death -- and though I didn't see exactly how Hal killed Hotspur, the audience reaction suggested it was fairly grisly.
Henry IV, Part II
(I have actually never read this play, except for Henry IV's 'uneasy lies the head that wears a crown' speech, so again, there are probably things I'll comment on that are patently obvious to people who know the play better.)
Rumour -- formerly known as Bagot -- dragged zombie!Richard's coffin onstage to start the play, and it was a fantastic moment. He positively dripped with bitterness; in fact, I more or less decided he was Bagot playing Rumour and not just the latter.
Northumberland was all over the place in spite of a limp -- I think we can see where Hotspur gets it from. The best part of that scene, though, was Lady Percy's speech criticising him for being willing to do for the Archbishop of York what he wouldn't do for Hotspur. It was the earnestness that made it worse, really.
So Hal went back to his dissolute ways, although it seemed he was mostly doing it to think about something other than his father. And though he was still obviously fond of Falstaff, something in Streatfield's performance hinted that he definitely trusted him less.
Loads of comic relief in this part. Apparently Falstaff, Mistress Quickly, and Doll Tearsheet ought to just go off and have a three-way-and be done with it. Which is sort of gross. And Doll had such a thing for Hal, poor girl. Loved the Tamburlaine shout-out in Pistol's speech.
3.1 was the scene just before the interval, and it was fantastic. Henry randomly contracted leprosy between the two plays, and was really starting to resemble zombie!Richard (who keeps making cameos -- earlier, there was a rather nice one where he appeared on high above a similarly dressed Archbishop of York who was invoking him as a reason for rebellion). I've always liked the 'sleep' soliloquy, and poor Clive Wood sounded utterly exhausted. But it was the final tableau that was really amazing -- zombie!Richard reappeared and stood in front of Henry as a shower of sand (throwback to just after the deposition scene in Richard II) fell over both of them. It was stunning.
There are so many visual links between Hal and Richard that they couldn't possibly have been accidental. Poins was still wearing pink (hilarious pink socks this time), and he was running around half-dressed while Hal was sprawled on a bed. I'm just saying it's not subtext if it's right there. ;) Even Falstaff made the connection later on when Hal and Poins were disguised as servingmen, claiming that Hal was sleeping with Poins à la Richard and minions.
The scenes with Shallow and Silence were very funny, though I couldn't help but keep remembering the first paper of the early modern seminar series last year where Colin Burrow talked about how those scenes were an indictment of the infrastructure of the justice system. And I obviously need to see Chimes at Midnight.
Oh, randomly, I love that Henry flinched every single time Bagot--er, Rumour, spoke to him. Or looked at him. Or was in the same space. It worked really well.
Henry's death was quite poignant. His desire to go on Crusade only to die in the Jerusalem chamber seemed to encapsulate the disconnect between chivalric values (hi, Hotspur!) and practicality. Poor Hal. Interesting that Gloucester is so quick to judge him.
The final scene was very good, I thought, when Hal abandoned Falstaff, though I felt rather worse for Hal. He looked about ten years older the moment he put on the crown. Subtle and well done, as though he were putting away childish things. There were people who didn't like Geoffrey Streatfield in these and Henry V, but I thought his performance was wonderful. He really captured the tension between the different facets of Hal fighting for supremacy.
I know they were linking Hal with Richard II in the final scene, as the costume he wore for the coronation was very similar to Richard's in the opening scene of Richard II. Really gorgeous image of him standing on the balcony with flower petals raining down over him.
I ended up talking to him after 3 Henry VI and he said he actually found it a lot easier doing both parts of Henry IV and Henry V back-to-back. Apparently since most of Hal's transformation occurs offstage, it's a lot easier to make it understandable when the plays are performed so closely together. That makes a lot of sense to me.
Henry V
I was not expecting Forbes Masson to play the Chorus too. But he does it really well, even though his narration is constantly undermined by the action. He seemed to be playing that up as well; drawing attention to Henry's theatricality -- like and unlike Richard in that he's completely conscious of his own rhetoric. He is playing a part still; this time, the successor of the Black Prince and Edward III.
That being said, the choreographed movements of the court looked rather like a dark reflection of the opening of Richard II.
It began with everyone in black, including Henry. No longer a throwback to Richard, but to Lancaster. Henry seemed very cold at first, but it seemed to me that his inner conflict was visible every now and then.
And the anti-Catholicism began almost immediately. The Archbishop of Canterbury didn't even try to pretend he was suggesting war with France for anything more than financial reasons. His Salic Law justification doth protest too much.
Falstaff's offstage death, such as it is, was presented very well. Mistress Quickly's speech was very good; I loved her line about Henry killing Falstaff's heart.
The tennis balls showered down on the French ambassador as sand on Richard II or flower petals on Henry at his coronation. The French were always in blue and gold and...well, they were floaty. In many different senses of the word. They literally floated, always descending on trapezes. I'd forgotten how many French jokes were in Henry V. Sure, there are Welsh, Irish, and Scottish jokes too, but the French ones were really played up in this production. Wonderful juxtaposition of the French descending from above and the English coming up from below through the trapdoors.
The Harfleur speech was delivered to the audience. Henry didn't flinch at rape or skewering babies. But the best moment was when he was exiting and he paused, his shadow projected back as Katherine (Alexia Healey) descended in a gold picture frame (literally), singing an air. I love that they didn't flinch from the fact that those two scenes are right next to one another. The dialogue between her and her maid was hilarious, even if it is disturbing in context.
All the battle sequences were very loud and full of dust -- I got a First World War vibe, since most of the trapdoors looked like they were leading into trenches, especially with the ladders substituting for pikes. A sharp contrast to the blue-lit French court.
The second half began with the night before Agincourt. The French were overconfident, effeminate, proud of armour and horses, and making Very Bad Puns in their very pretty costumes. It was so obvious the actors were having a fantastic time. In case we were wondering, the French are girly. ;)
In contrast, the English looked greyer and dustier and bloodier than ever. The exchange between Henry and Michael Williams (formerly Hotspur) was really good, even if it did make him seem very unsympathetic. Interesting throwback to 2 Henry IV with the insomnia. Hilarious moment where Fluellen pulled out a huge copy of Pompey's Wars to illustrate something to Pistol.
The battle itself was stunning. The arrows were paper streamers, the pikes were ladders jutting up from the trapdoors, and it was gorgeously choreographed. Streatfield put a different, more self-consciously theatrical spin on the St. Crispin's Day speech, which is a great speech to begin with, but he made it his own.
Again, major emphasis on the deceptive nature of words. Henry ordered the killing of prisoners before he made the official emotion-driven demand over the corpse of the boy. Later, he played the courtly lover with Katherine even though she, as princess of conquered France, has no choice but to marry him.
That scene was fascinating. The play made obvious that Henry was skilled with words ('I am no orator as Brutus is') and yet he claimed he couldn't woo with them. I think this Katherine who -- like a doll is dressed and poised and wears a careful mask -- was aware of the deception. She, like Henry, was playing a part. She was the prize and he already won her.
The play concluded with a tableau of Henry and Katherine, followed by the King and Queen of France (the notorious Isabeau de Bavière, interestingly played by Katy Stephens, who later plays Margaret and Joan of Arc), and the nobility. Seeing as this is the last of the cycle as written, it should be a glorious and optimistic ending -- but then, the epilogue reminded everyone of what happens after. I love the smell of irony in the morning.
Oh, and Jonathan Slinger hitting people with leeks was possibly the most hilarious thing I've seen in a very long time. I didn't even remember that scene from when I last read Henry V back in high school. So much love for Fluellen.
(obligatory digression about female characters because, hey, this is me)
So, in the (chronological) first half of the cycle, the women are all contained. Queen Isabel is stripped of her title and sent back to France, but even within the play she is mostly silent. Watchful, observant, but ultimately unable to change anything. Then we have, on the one hand, Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet, and on the other, Lady Percy and Lady Northumberland. Again, all of them try to speak, but ultimately nobody listens. The two noblewomen vanish without a word after their brief scene in 2 Henry IV. Doll ends up in hospital, presumably with an STD, and Mistress Quickly dies possibly of something similar. And Katherine exemplifies them all. Though she isn't silent, she isn't speaking her own words but those of the treaty her father signed.
Henry VI, Part I
Zombie!Henry was wandering about, his front covered in blood. He also vomited blood into his grave before crawling into it. As discussed on fubarite's LJ, better that than what actually happened. Ew. Henry was in white again, echoing both his coronation and Richard II, and surrounded by men in black.
The Dauphin (John Mackay) was wearing the silliest wig I've seen in a long time. It almost looked like he was a parody of Richard, flouncing about with his own minions, Reignier and Alençon. The Bastard of Orléans (Jonathan Slinger) kept jumping onto the stage in different helmets, trying to scare him. It usually worked.
Joan (Katy Stephens) wore a dress the entire time; it was very interesting to see her so obviously feminine, but it made a lot of sense since they made the subtext about her sexuality ürtext -- when the English retook Orléans, it was obvious she'd been sleeping with the Dauphin. Very interesting things with the supernatural as well -- she had three fiends dressed in red who first appeared when she was fighting the Dauphin, and later when she fought Talbot, echoing her movements, accompanied by a few white feathers falling from above. They later became the Countess of Auvergne and her ladies; I've read articles that claim the Countess is also associated with the supernatural, which isn't surprising. After all, she's a woman and she's French. And we know how that is.
Fantastic moment when Talbot and Bedford charged forth to retake Orléans in 2.1 and zombie!Henry literally rose from his grave and strode forward with a sword in each hand. It was brilliant and unnerving.
Winchester (Geoffrey Freshwater) was clearly set up as the enemy, although Gloucester (Richard Cordery) did bluster about a bit. I loved that York was played by Clive Wood; gorgeous piece of juxtaposition there. Somewhere Polydore Vergil is grinning. The feud between him and Somerset (Nicholas Asbury) shaped up well, especially alongside the more established quarrel between Gloucester and Winchester. Similarly, the low cunning of the Dauphin was played for laughs but the fact remains that he succeeded in fooling everybody in the end.
It's a disjointed play in general, jumping back and forth between England and France, and, well, it does have some very bad lines. I did like the casting of the same actors who played Northumberland and Hotspur as the Talbots. It worked extremely well, even though the argument between them was only slightly less silly performed than it was on the page. The doubled death scene, however, was very well done. They charged into what looked like a dark haze of swords, and were hacked to pieces.
Henry (Chuk Iwuji) was adorable! So excitable and sweet, especially when he did things that were obviously a horrible idea. Like wearing red roses or agreeing to marry Margaret. He means well, and we all know he does, but it all goes so horribly wrong. Poor, poor Henry.
Joan's final scene (the beginning of 5.3 combined with the beginning of 5.4) was really harrowing, somewhat to my surprise. First, when the fiends didn't appear, she seemed genuinely frightened for the first time in the play. And all of her lies in her big speech were obviously born of growing desperation, before York made us all flinch by making the implicit threat of rape quite literal. On the one hand, it was awful to watch. On the other, my dissertation loves problematising texts and that was a great moment in that respect.
Which brings me to Margaret. She was preceded by three girls in red velvet, two of whom were just onstage as Joan's unhelpful spirits. Suffolk (Geoffrey Streatfield) addressed his first lines to them as they vanished offstage, presumably giving Katy Stephens time to change. When she did appear, she was also wearing red velvet (an absolutely gorgeous dress that I want), the very personification of sin. And there was so much chemistry between her and Suffolk. He didn't stand a chance, and neither does Henry. I've always found that scene to be incredibly weird (half of the dialogue consists of bizarre asides), but they made it work.
All the better that Suffolk was formerly Henry V, and that his final dialogue in the previous play was a variation on the courtly love theme. It kept bringing me back to the staged nature of both scenes even within the text; both women are consciously playing roles, but the difference is that Margaret has the freedom to manipulate hers and Katherine does not.
Earlier, in 5.1, the nameless heiress of Armagnac appeared in the floating picture frame that first held Katherine in Henry V, and also played by blonde Alexia Healey in blue, probably to serve as a visual contrast to the brunette Margaret in red. The audience was completely on tenterhooks, waiting for her to step out of the frame -- which she did, after Suffolk's final lines, to finish off the play.
Henry VI, Part II
Henry began this play as an appropriately giddy boy enthralled by Margaret. He could barely stand still long enough to finish his speech. So. Cute. And it's so obvious that it can't end well.
I loved York's explanation of his claim to the throne in 2.2. He walked onstage carrying a large bag filled with pebbles, and proceeded to make a Plantagenet family tree on the stage floor. It managed to win over the audience as well as Warwick (Patrice Naiambana) and Salisbury (Roger Watkins).
The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester actually had a relationship, and Eleanor (Maureen Beattie) was genuinely comprehensible. Her first entrance was glorious, flanked by three ladies-in-waiting and wearing gold brocade, as well as a crownlike headdress, but despite Gloucester's disapproval of her ambition, even within the text, there is a sense that her plan isn't necessarily a bad idea. Given the two competing traditions (chronicle and poetic), she is presented very interestingly. Also, since Shakespeare makes it clear from the start that she is being framed by the Cardinal, she really does become a more sympathetic character, in spite of the witchcraft.
The two brief moments between Eleanor and Gloucester were very touching, and her monologue in 2.4 struck the right balance between cynicism and grief.
As Eleanor fell, Margaret became more visually grand, and she first appeared wearing a crown in the scene when Gloucester resigned his Protectorship. That scene also provided a nice throwback to Woodstock, though with less implied violence.
I continued to be impressed by Suffolk and Margaret. I was never certain what to make of those two in the text, mainly because I know Hall completely made it up (even though the historical Marguerite of Anjou was accused of adultery, the top candidate was the Duke of Somerset). But in this production, there are all kinds of nonverbal cues between them, augmented by how childish Henry appears in contrast to Suffolk. In fact, it appeared that the only person who hadn't figured out that Margaret and Suffolk were lovers was Henry, which immediately brought to mind Arthur, Guinevere, and Lancelot. For instance, during the mock duel in 2.3, Henry stood at the centre of the balcony with Margaret beside him, but she was holding Suffolk's hand, who stood on her other side, in plain view of everybody.
As a result, the farewell scene between the two of them had a far greater resonance than it had in my readings of the play. It actually felt a lot like the farewell scene between Edward and Gaveston in Edward II (1.4), very poignant.
Henry's childishness fell away with the death of Gloucester, and it was patently obvious that he'd lost all ability to trust anyone around him. And even though he fainted on hearing of the murder, he became doubly forceful afterward when banishing Suffolk and overriding Margaret's objections. Visual Foreshadowing of Doom when his crown fell off and lay abandoned on the stage until Suffolk picked it up to give it back to him.
Suffolk's death was made the province of the ghosts of Talbot and his son, rather than Walter Whitmore, so they cut the line about Suffolk dying 'by water'. It did fit in with the growing number of ghosts wandering the stage -- Gloucester's ghost stifling the Cardinal, for instance -- and felt like a nod to both the cyclical nature of the history being told, and the Mirror for Magistrates.
Speaking of dead people, the Cade scenes were filled with them. They were a literal personification of a topsy-turvy world. Not just commoners running round, but people in masks, Carnevale characters, and dead people. Lots of dead people. Including Suffolk's headless body, which is fantastic in every possible way. Before the scene actually started, there was a very funny bit where they brought random people out of the audience and harassed them. Sadly I was too far back.
Cade himself was played by the same actor as the Dauphin in 1 Henry VI, and shared some of the same flouncy movements. Nice emphasis on the performativity of his rebellion. And Dick the Butcher was great fun.
Margaret did sing a bizarre duet with Suffolk's severed head in 4.4. I had no idea what to make of that. Interesting that Henry starts to wear black after Gloucester dies, and Margaret does after Suffolk dies.
Again, well-staged battle scenes. Though what stuck out for me was how affectionate York was with all of his sons, particularly Richard. A fascinating contrast to the way the Duchess treats him in Richard III. Jonathan Slinger transformed himself yet again, and he was absolutely riveting, even with a few lines.
Young Clifford (Keith Dunphy) was doing his best impression of Hannibal Lecter after York killed his father. It was really disturbing.
Henry VI, Part III
Henry never appeared armed. He is the calm at the centre of the storm, keeping his men and York both in check, and neither thanked him for it. Even when he was furious -- as in his first speech to York in 1.1 -- he was still begging, pleading, desperate to live in peace and willing to do anything to preserve it. But this is his weakness, and Margaret's fury was understandable.
Between plays, she transformed visually into an Iron Lady, abandoning Henry to lead armies, and far more dangerous than she was as Joan.
Wakefield was quite devastating. First, the three sons interrupted York during a quiet moment with Rutland (wearing a paper crown -- the paper crown) to announce Margaret's arrival. There's no textual interaction between York and Rutland, but this served to make the next scene all the worse. Clifford was methodical, taking off his coat and taking his time. The scene was slow, painfully so, and Rutland's death was drawn out. I'd never have thought to see it that way, but it worked very well, especially as a prelude to York's death. The lords were literally jabbing at him with blades as Margaret spoke slowly and deliberately. And the apparition of his head over the gates was very effective. I ended up talking to him at the pub afterward and he said he did it because he wanted the audience to know it was resolved and premeditated, and to see a man who had been driven to this action by circumstance.
Richard in 2.1 was chilling -- while Edward and George wept, he drove a dagger into his hand and cried on revenge. Forbes Masson played Edward, who is sadly underused in these plays.
Towton was brutal -- the death of York paid back in kind by the mutilation of the dying Clifford. They cut out his tongue and might have ripped out one of his eyes -- it was a bit difficult to tell from my angle. Not to mention Richard chopping off certain other parts of his anatomy. Ouch. I didn't expect to feel anything for him, but that was painful.
I'm not entirely sure about the staging of the scene between Edward and Elizabeth in 3.2; in fact, when I talked to Ann Ogbomo at the Dirty Duck after, she agreed with me. Elizabeth was on her knees with Edward prowling round her, and they rarely looked at one another, which doesn't make sense to me. I think for that scene to make sense there has to be some attraction between them, and not just on Edward's side. Either attraction or, if you want to go that way, calculation. But either way, something has to be going on. Of course, Shakespeare really discounts Edward in general and he's a much less attractive character in the text than he was historically.
Richard's monologue was magnificent. He was mesmerising and so corrosively bitter. But since he's already been cast in the part of Machiavel, he's determined to play it.
Wonderful turnaround in 3.3 when Warwick makes his embassy. Edward takes the place of French princesses in the golden picture Frame and becomes a feminised object, however briefly. Although, to be honest, given Shakespeare's portrayal, he might as well be an object, for the characterisation he gets. Another great moment was when Elizabeth appears next to him in the portrait. Very cleverly done.
Henry was visually linked to Richard II, wearing white in prison. But he was happy -- he needed no audience. Absolutely gorgeous image of him standing beneath a shower of red and white feathers, rather than sand. And then there was the random bit where he blesses Richmond, because, God forbid we forget about him. ;) At least Shakespeare doesn't insist upon mentioning him every time one of his second cousins turns up (I'm looking at you, Vergil).
Clarence also has little to do. He keeps betraying people, but we don't really get a reason for it. At least Richard explains himself.
Tewkesbury. Margaret weeping over her son's body was far more effective than I necessarily expected. She absolutely fell apart. It is interesting that, just like in the sources, Margaret's motherhood is the source of her tragedy, especially in light of York's speech to her in 1.4.
Speaking of York, his ghost kept wandering in at opportune moments. Most effectively in 5.2 when he distracted Warwick and got him killed.
Henry's death scene was utterly riveting. So many links to Richard II's death, down to the circle of blood when he was dragged offstage. But Richard's monologue after the murder -- wow. Just wow. His bitterness, how trapped he seems to be, it comes out so strongly here, even more so than in the long speech in 3.2. His face and form have become who he is but not by choice. Everyone assumes he is evil because he is deformed. I actually felt genuinely sorry for him, in spite of Henry's body lying there in front of him. There was so much self-loathing in that speech. And then he dragged Henry -- poor, helpless Henry -- offstage, and everyone suddenly remembered he's sort of a homicidal maniac.
It's one of those plays that just sort of stops, rather than actually ending. But the ending was charged in this performance, as the music got louder and faster, and Richard was left onstage, carrying the infant Prince of Wales, in a single spotlight, and said the word 'Now' before everything went dark. It was absolutely thrilling.
Richard III
Not sure how much I liked the modern setting. I don't think it took away from the production, necessarily, but I don't think it really added anything either. And there were bits that were weird and distracting. Plus, all the ghosts were in costume from the previous plays, which I really liked, since it gave the play a surreal quality.
It began -- as I'd hoped -- in the very same position that last night's performance ended. With Prince Edward facing Richard and wearing the Paper Crown of Doom.
A very interesting throwback to More and the Mirror for Magistrates in that they not only kept all the textural references to Jane Shore, they also brought her onstage (played by Alexia Healey). She took some of the random Citizen lines, as well as a few of Hastings' in the scene when he hears about Stanley's dream. It does make his position more ambiguous since it's repeatedly pointed out that Jane was Edward's mistress before he died. And apparently something was going on with her during 3.4 that I couldn't see from where I was sitting, where it was implied that Richard tortured her and echoed Joan's last scene in 1 Henry VI.
The scene between Richard and Anne (Hannah Barrie) was staged creepily well. She addressed her first speech to everyone from the balcony -- a public oration -- and her confrontation with Richard had them constantly darting about the stage. Anne actually tried to stab him several times, but he kept forestalling her. The final time, he grabbed her and they just stared at one another for a few seconds. It was incredibly charged -- even more so than the scene between Edward and Elizabeth in 3 Henry VI. You also got the sense that Anne realised exactly how bad a position she'd be in if she stabbed the king's brother. Calculating, but sensible.
Elizabeth and Edward were both in white and gold to begin. A sharp contrast to creepy, crazy Margaret, who was very literally carrying her son's bones on her back. Very interesting and surprising moment when Margaret confronted Dorset in 1.3, since he was played by Wela Frasier, the same actor who played Prince Edward in 3 Henry VI. Her speech to him -- which I hadn't paid much attention to in the text -- had a markedly different tone, as if she was literally seeing her son's ghost. Very poignant and sorrowful.
She used his bones to curse everyone, an echo of Joan and Margery Jourdain both, but Margaret's curses succeeded. One apparently needs the bones of a beloved son for curses to take effect. A compelling point about the vocal power of marginalised women.
Clarence's death was also really well done. The murderers looked like middle managers in tan suits and black-rimmed glasses, pulling machetes out of their jackets. The one who hesitated at the end of the scene was executed with Rivers and Grey. The other turned out to be Lovell.
Richard is marvellous. His performance seems to support my theory about the self-conscious theatricality that links him, Henry V, and Richard II. And even more so visually, in the coronation sequence in 4.2, when Richard stepped over the body of dead Henry, just as Richard II stepped over the body of Woodstock on his way to the throne. Also the placement of Anne, constantly present though she did not speak, echoed that of Isabel, who had been played by the same actress.
Very interesting literalisation of More's 'kinges games' in the obviously staged nature of Buckingham and Richard telling the Mayor of London the official story of Hastings' treachery. Down to announced stage directions over a microphone. And Richard coming onstage in 3.7 doing his best impression of Ned Flanders was highly amusing.
The cursing scene in 4.4 was straightforward. Margaret was gleeful and Elizabeth desperate. The interaction between Richard and the Duchess was also well done, especially his attempts to drown her out by signalling the drums. The emphasis on silencing women was key -- it seemed to speak to the cycle as a whole. Richard and Elizabeth were much as I expected and hoped. She did not submit so much as smile and double-cross while she smiled. I love that Richard spoke the line 'Relenting fool and shallow changing woman' before Elizabeth had left the stage, and for a moment, she just looked at him before exiting. And they kept the two lines of Stanley's where Elizabeth is revealed to have betrayed Richard. Why do people keep thinking he fooled her?
No Elizabeth of York. Which feels more accurate to me. The lack of her -- and of Margaret Beaufort, whose mentions were kept as well -- leads one to question Richmond and his peace. She is a very noticeable absence, moreso onstage than in the text, especially in the context of the way Henry V ended.
Anne's speech before the Tower in 4.1 was bitterly self-mocking. In this, she seemed to echo Richard's own self-loathing, though she lacked his deformities. As for him, this was particularly evident in the dream sequence -- one of the best moments in the entire production, I thought. It began with Richmond downstage and Richard upstage, before Richard got to his feet, advanced, and threatened Richmond, and his deformities had magically vanished. For a second, I wondered if they were staging it as Richmond's dream primarily and that the ghosts were going to enter to protect him, but it was soon obvious that it was Richard. The ghosts entered, though they changed the order to have Henry VI be the last and Anne the first. She just taunted him. Then the others, one by one, who wounded him literally as well as figuratively, recreating his deformities. The monologue after the dream was absolutely devastating as a result -- 'Richard loves Richard, that is I and I'. It was a fantastic echo back to 3 Henry VI, where he killed Henry and briefly broke down.
The ghosts reappeared one last time at Bosworth Field (including Jane, which is an interesting departure from the text) and the ghost of York distracted Richard long enough for Richmond to kill him. That was a sad moment, considering what we knew about their relationship.
Richmond is a lacklustre role but he was played by the same actor who played Hotspur, and he did what he could. I laughed at the line where he requested that Richard's body be given honourable burial. Nice rewriting of history there.
I do have overall thoughts as well, but most of them are so tied up with my dissertation that I'll spare you and put them into my Shakespeare chapter instead.
My review of Richard II, which I saw on 20 November 2007, is here.
Henry IV, Part I
(I hadn't read this play since my first year in undergrad, so my memory of most of it was a bit fuzzy. As such, some of the comments are probably very elementary.)
I arrived toward the beginning of 2.3, during Lady Percy's speech. Hotspur (Lex Shrapnel) was just as excitable as he had been in Richard II, and though he's symbolically tossed away the coat he stole from Bolingbroke's close (don't laugh, he totally did), he's still doing a creditable quasi-medieval Matrix impression. Lady Percy (Ann Ogbomo) was quite forceful -- as she should be -- and they complemented one another well, although someone I was talking to during the interval thought the scene wasn't passionate enough. It seemed like they were emphasising Hotspur's single-mindedness, which worked for me. Rather poignant bit toward the end when she ultimately fails to dissuade him from his Very Bad Plan to steal the throne, and he runs off, leaving her alone centre stage.
Hal (Geoffrey Streatfield) and company entered Mistress Quickly's from trapdoors -- appropriate Hell imagery there (especially with the area below the stage lit in red) -- wearing paper crowns, which became a recurring image. Poins looked rather like the actor playing Green in Richard II (and was wearing a very pink coat that would have looked well on Richard himself). Sadly I missed the first appearance of zombie!Richard, but his many appearances in the second part of Henry IV made up for it.
Mistress Quickly was in red and white and looked very madam-ish -- not to mention rather Victorian, which was interesting. Falstaff (David Warner) was obviously having a great time and seemed a bit more...if not sympathetic, at least more comprehensible than I remember him being when I read the play. Maybe it's just me, but I had no interest whatsoever in Falstaff on the page. Hal, on the other hand, was wonderful. Though I missed his dissembling speech from 1.2, he carried off the many changes of mood very well and was a happy medium between Falstaff and Hotspur.
The second half began with Hotspur and Mortimer dividing up the map (which I missed in bits, looking for a seat since I had standing room tickets and saw a few free). Hotspur's complaints about the River Trent garnered a few laughs, though I was reminded of Woodstock (4.1) with those endless lists of English counties divided up. A giant map would have been helpful there. The Welsh princess was appropriately otherworldly, with a shaved head, chain mail, and an incredibly eerie voice. Lady Percy looked rather unnerved, though Hotspur scarcely seemed to notice. Another play where men ought to listen to their wives.
Falstaff's dispute with Mistress Quickly was effectively broken up by Hal entering in full armour -- the scene before, with him and his father, was incredibly tense and worked well visually with Henry IV in black (back to it from the end of Richard II) and Hal in cream. Also an interesting contrast to the mock-argument between him and Falstaff in 2.4. I had completely forgotten that Henry compared Hal to Richard, but given all the visual hints, it works so well.
There was a nice sense of restrained violence up to the battle scenes, and it looked as though Hotspur had to literally force himself to slow down. Mortimer's treason also worked well -- he was practically twitching from then on.
The battle scene was fantastic. Everyone except Hal was wearing a replica of Henry's crown, and Douglas was literally chasing Blunt through a forest of Henries. Hal v. Hotspur was intense -- briefly broken by Falstaff faking his own death upstage with larger quantities of fake blood than Hotspur's actual death -- and though I didn't see exactly how Hal killed Hotspur, the audience reaction suggested it was fairly grisly.
Henry IV, Part II
(I have actually never read this play, except for Henry IV's 'uneasy lies the head that wears a crown' speech, so again, there are probably things I'll comment on that are patently obvious to people who know the play better.)
Rumour -- formerly known as Bagot -- dragged zombie!Richard's coffin onstage to start the play, and it was a fantastic moment. He positively dripped with bitterness; in fact, I more or less decided he was Bagot playing Rumour and not just the latter.
Northumberland was all over the place in spite of a limp -- I think we can see where Hotspur gets it from. The best part of that scene, though, was Lady Percy's speech criticising him for being willing to do for the Archbishop of York what he wouldn't do for Hotspur. It was the earnestness that made it worse, really.
So Hal went back to his dissolute ways, although it seemed he was mostly doing it to think about something other than his father. And though he was still obviously fond of Falstaff, something in Streatfield's performance hinted that he definitely trusted him less.
Loads of comic relief in this part. Apparently Falstaff, Mistress Quickly, and Doll Tearsheet ought to just go off and have a three-way-and be done with it. Which is sort of gross. And Doll had such a thing for Hal, poor girl. Loved the Tamburlaine shout-out in Pistol's speech.
3.1 was the scene just before the interval, and it was fantastic. Henry randomly contracted leprosy between the two plays, and was really starting to resemble zombie!Richard (who keeps making cameos -- earlier, there was a rather nice one where he appeared on high above a similarly dressed Archbishop of York who was invoking him as a reason for rebellion). I've always liked the 'sleep' soliloquy, and poor Clive Wood sounded utterly exhausted. But it was the final tableau that was really amazing -- zombie!Richard reappeared and stood in front of Henry as a shower of sand (throwback to just after the deposition scene in Richard II) fell over both of them. It was stunning.
There are so many visual links between Hal and Richard that they couldn't possibly have been accidental. Poins was still wearing pink (hilarious pink socks this time), and he was running around half-dressed while Hal was sprawled on a bed. I'm just saying it's not subtext if it's right there. ;) Even Falstaff made the connection later on when Hal and Poins were disguised as servingmen, claiming that Hal was sleeping with Poins à la Richard and minions.
The scenes with Shallow and Silence were very funny, though I couldn't help but keep remembering the first paper of the early modern seminar series last year where Colin Burrow talked about how those scenes were an indictment of the infrastructure of the justice system. And I obviously need to see Chimes at Midnight.
Oh, randomly, I love that Henry flinched every single time Bagot--er, Rumour, spoke to him. Or looked at him. Or was in the same space. It worked really well.
Henry's death was quite poignant. His desire to go on Crusade only to die in the Jerusalem chamber seemed to encapsulate the disconnect between chivalric values (hi, Hotspur!) and practicality. Poor Hal. Interesting that Gloucester is so quick to judge him.
The final scene was very good, I thought, when Hal abandoned Falstaff, though I felt rather worse for Hal. He looked about ten years older the moment he put on the crown. Subtle and well done, as though he were putting away childish things. There were people who didn't like Geoffrey Streatfield in these and Henry V, but I thought his performance was wonderful. He really captured the tension between the different facets of Hal fighting for supremacy.
I know they were linking Hal with Richard II in the final scene, as the costume he wore for the coronation was very similar to Richard's in the opening scene of Richard II. Really gorgeous image of him standing on the balcony with flower petals raining down over him.
I ended up talking to him after 3 Henry VI and he said he actually found it a lot easier doing both parts of Henry IV and Henry V back-to-back. Apparently since most of Hal's transformation occurs offstage, it's a lot easier to make it understandable when the plays are performed so closely together. That makes a lot of sense to me.
Henry V
I was not expecting Forbes Masson to play the Chorus too. But he does it really well, even though his narration is constantly undermined by the action. He seemed to be playing that up as well; drawing attention to Henry's theatricality -- like and unlike Richard in that he's completely conscious of his own rhetoric. He is playing a part still; this time, the successor of the Black Prince and Edward III.
That being said, the choreographed movements of the court looked rather like a dark reflection of the opening of Richard II.
It began with everyone in black, including Henry. No longer a throwback to Richard, but to Lancaster. Henry seemed very cold at first, but it seemed to me that his inner conflict was visible every now and then.
And the anti-Catholicism began almost immediately. The Archbishop of Canterbury didn't even try to pretend he was suggesting war with France for anything more than financial reasons. His Salic Law justification doth protest too much.
Falstaff's offstage death, such as it is, was presented very well. Mistress Quickly's speech was very good; I loved her line about Henry killing Falstaff's heart.
The tennis balls showered down on the French ambassador as sand on Richard II or flower petals on Henry at his coronation. The French were always in blue and gold and...well, they were floaty. In many different senses of the word. They literally floated, always descending on trapezes. I'd forgotten how many French jokes were in Henry V. Sure, there are Welsh, Irish, and Scottish jokes too, but the French ones were really played up in this production. Wonderful juxtaposition of the French descending from above and the English coming up from below through the trapdoors.
The Harfleur speech was delivered to the audience. Henry didn't flinch at rape or skewering babies. But the best moment was when he was exiting and he paused, his shadow projected back as Katherine (Alexia Healey) descended in a gold picture frame (literally), singing an air. I love that they didn't flinch from the fact that those two scenes are right next to one another. The dialogue between her and her maid was hilarious, even if it is disturbing in context.
All the battle sequences were very loud and full of dust -- I got a First World War vibe, since most of the trapdoors looked like they were leading into trenches, especially with the ladders substituting for pikes. A sharp contrast to the blue-lit French court.
The second half began with the night before Agincourt. The French were overconfident, effeminate, proud of armour and horses, and making Very Bad Puns in their very pretty costumes. It was so obvious the actors were having a fantastic time. In case we were wondering, the French are girly. ;)
In contrast, the English looked greyer and dustier and bloodier than ever. The exchange between Henry and Michael Williams (formerly Hotspur) was really good, even if it did make him seem very unsympathetic. Interesting throwback to 2 Henry IV with the insomnia. Hilarious moment where Fluellen pulled out a huge copy of Pompey's Wars to illustrate something to Pistol.
The battle itself was stunning. The arrows were paper streamers, the pikes were ladders jutting up from the trapdoors, and it was gorgeously choreographed. Streatfield put a different, more self-consciously theatrical spin on the St. Crispin's Day speech, which is a great speech to begin with, but he made it his own.
Again, major emphasis on the deceptive nature of words. Henry ordered the killing of prisoners before he made the official emotion-driven demand over the corpse of the boy. Later, he played the courtly lover with Katherine even though she, as princess of conquered France, has no choice but to marry him.
That scene was fascinating. The play made obvious that Henry was skilled with words ('I am no orator as Brutus is') and yet he claimed he couldn't woo with them. I think this Katherine who -- like a doll is dressed and poised and wears a careful mask -- was aware of the deception. She, like Henry, was playing a part. She was the prize and he already won her.
The play concluded with a tableau of Henry and Katherine, followed by the King and Queen of France (the notorious Isabeau de Bavière, interestingly played by Katy Stephens, who later plays Margaret and Joan of Arc), and the nobility. Seeing as this is the last of the cycle as written, it should be a glorious and optimistic ending -- but then, the epilogue reminded everyone of what happens after. I love the smell of irony in the morning.
Oh, and Jonathan Slinger hitting people with leeks was possibly the most hilarious thing I've seen in a very long time. I didn't even remember that scene from when I last read Henry V back in high school. So much love for Fluellen.
(obligatory digression about female characters because, hey, this is me)
So, in the (chronological) first half of the cycle, the women are all contained. Queen Isabel is stripped of her title and sent back to France, but even within the play she is mostly silent. Watchful, observant, but ultimately unable to change anything. Then we have, on the one hand, Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet, and on the other, Lady Percy and Lady Northumberland. Again, all of them try to speak, but ultimately nobody listens. The two noblewomen vanish without a word after their brief scene in 2 Henry IV. Doll ends up in hospital, presumably with an STD, and Mistress Quickly dies possibly of something similar. And Katherine exemplifies them all. Though she isn't silent, she isn't speaking her own words but those of the treaty her father signed.
Henry VI, Part I
Zombie!Henry was wandering about, his front covered in blood. He also vomited blood into his grave before crawling into it. As discussed on fubarite's LJ, better that than what actually happened. Ew. Henry was in white again, echoing both his coronation and Richard II, and surrounded by men in black.
The Dauphin (John Mackay) was wearing the silliest wig I've seen in a long time. It almost looked like he was a parody of Richard, flouncing about with his own minions, Reignier and Alençon. The Bastard of Orléans (Jonathan Slinger) kept jumping onto the stage in different helmets, trying to scare him. It usually worked.
Joan (Katy Stephens) wore a dress the entire time; it was very interesting to see her so obviously feminine, but it made a lot of sense since they made the subtext about her sexuality ürtext -- when the English retook Orléans, it was obvious she'd been sleeping with the Dauphin. Very interesting things with the supernatural as well -- she had three fiends dressed in red who first appeared when she was fighting the Dauphin, and later when she fought Talbot, echoing her movements, accompanied by a few white feathers falling from above. They later became the Countess of Auvergne and her ladies; I've read articles that claim the Countess is also associated with the supernatural, which isn't surprising. After all, she's a woman and she's French. And we know how that is.
Fantastic moment when Talbot and Bedford charged forth to retake Orléans in 2.1 and zombie!Henry literally rose from his grave and strode forward with a sword in each hand. It was brilliant and unnerving.
Winchester (Geoffrey Freshwater) was clearly set up as the enemy, although Gloucester (Richard Cordery) did bluster about a bit. I loved that York was played by Clive Wood; gorgeous piece of juxtaposition there. Somewhere Polydore Vergil is grinning. The feud between him and Somerset (Nicholas Asbury) shaped up well, especially alongside the more established quarrel between Gloucester and Winchester. Similarly, the low cunning of the Dauphin was played for laughs but the fact remains that he succeeded in fooling everybody in the end.
It's a disjointed play in general, jumping back and forth between England and France, and, well, it does have some very bad lines. I did like the casting of the same actors who played Northumberland and Hotspur as the Talbots. It worked extremely well, even though the argument between them was only slightly less silly performed than it was on the page. The doubled death scene, however, was very well done. They charged into what looked like a dark haze of swords, and were hacked to pieces.
Henry (Chuk Iwuji) was adorable! So excitable and sweet, especially when he did things that were obviously a horrible idea. Like wearing red roses or agreeing to marry Margaret. He means well, and we all know he does, but it all goes so horribly wrong. Poor, poor Henry.
Joan's final scene (the beginning of 5.3 combined with the beginning of 5.4) was really harrowing, somewhat to my surprise. First, when the fiends didn't appear, she seemed genuinely frightened for the first time in the play. And all of her lies in her big speech were obviously born of growing desperation, before York made us all flinch by making the implicit threat of rape quite literal. On the one hand, it was awful to watch. On the other, my dissertation loves problematising texts and that was a great moment in that respect.
Which brings me to Margaret. She was preceded by three girls in red velvet, two of whom were just onstage as Joan's unhelpful spirits. Suffolk (Geoffrey Streatfield) addressed his first lines to them as they vanished offstage, presumably giving Katy Stephens time to change. When she did appear, she was also wearing red velvet (an absolutely gorgeous dress that I want), the very personification of sin. And there was so much chemistry between her and Suffolk. He didn't stand a chance, and neither does Henry. I've always found that scene to be incredibly weird (half of the dialogue consists of bizarre asides), but they made it work.
All the better that Suffolk was formerly Henry V, and that his final dialogue in the previous play was a variation on the courtly love theme. It kept bringing me back to the staged nature of both scenes even within the text; both women are consciously playing roles, but the difference is that Margaret has the freedom to manipulate hers and Katherine does not.
Earlier, in 5.1, the nameless heiress of Armagnac appeared in the floating picture frame that first held Katherine in Henry V, and also played by blonde Alexia Healey in blue, probably to serve as a visual contrast to the brunette Margaret in red. The audience was completely on tenterhooks, waiting for her to step out of the frame -- which she did, after Suffolk's final lines, to finish off the play.
Henry VI, Part II
Henry began this play as an appropriately giddy boy enthralled by Margaret. He could barely stand still long enough to finish his speech. So. Cute. And it's so obvious that it can't end well.
I loved York's explanation of his claim to the throne in 2.2. He walked onstage carrying a large bag filled with pebbles, and proceeded to make a Plantagenet family tree on the stage floor. It managed to win over the audience as well as Warwick (Patrice Naiambana) and Salisbury (Roger Watkins).
The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester actually had a relationship, and Eleanor (Maureen Beattie) was genuinely comprehensible. Her first entrance was glorious, flanked by three ladies-in-waiting and wearing gold brocade, as well as a crownlike headdress, but despite Gloucester's disapproval of her ambition, even within the text, there is a sense that her plan isn't necessarily a bad idea. Given the two competing traditions (chronicle and poetic), she is presented very interestingly. Also, since Shakespeare makes it clear from the start that she is being framed by the Cardinal, she really does become a more sympathetic character, in spite of the witchcraft.
The two brief moments between Eleanor and Gloucester were very touching, and her monologue in 2.4 struck the right balance between cynicism and grief.
As Eleanor fell, Margaret became more visually grand, and she first appeared wearing a crown in the scene when Gloucester resigned his Protectorship. That scene also provided a nice throwback to Woodstock, though with less implied violence.
I continued to be impressed by Suffolk and Margaret. I was never certain what to make of those two in the text, mainly because I know Hall completely made it up (even though the historical Marguerite of Anjou was accused of adultery, the top candidate was the Duke of Somerset). But in this production, there are all kinds of nonverbal cues between them, augmented by how childish Henry appears in contrast to Suffolk. In fact, it appeared that the only person who hadn't figured out that Margaret and Suffolk were lovers was Henry, which immediately brought to mind Arthur, Guinevere, and Lancelot. For instance, during the mock duel in 2.3, Henry stood at the centre of the balcony with Margaret beside him, but she was holding Suffolk's hand, who stood on her other side, in plain view of everybody.
As a result, the farewell scene between the two of them had a far greater resonance than it had in my readings of the play. It actually felt a lot like the farewell scene between Edward and Gaveston in Edward II (1.4), very poignant.
Henry's childishness fell away with the death of Gloucester, and it was patently obvious that he'd lost all ability to trust anyone around him. And even though he fainted on hearing of the murder, he became doubly forceful afterward when banishing Suffolk and overriding Margaret's objections. Visual Foreshadowing of Doom when his crown fell off and lay abandoned on the stage until Suffolk picked it up to give it back to him.
Suffolk's death was made the province of the ghosts of Talbot and his son, rather than Walter Whitmore, so they cut the line about Suffolk dying 'by water'. It did fit in with the growing number of ghosts wandering the stage -- Gloucester's ghost stifling the Cardinal, for instance -- and felt like a nod to both the cyclical nature of the history being told, and the Mirror for Magistrates.
Speaking of dead people, the Cade scenes were filled with them. They were a literal personification of a topsy-turvy world. Not just commoners running round, but people in masks, Carnevale characters, and dead people. Lots of dead people. Including Suffolk's headless body, which is fantastic in every possible way. Before the scene actually started, there was a very funny bit where they brought random people out of the audience and harassed them. Sadly I was too far back.
Cade himself was played by the same actor as the Dauphin in 1 Henry VI, and shared some of the same flouncy movements. Nice emphasis on the performativity of his rebellion. And Dick the Butcher was great fun.
Margaret did sing a bizarre duet with Suffolk's severed head in 4.4. I had no idea what to make of that. Interesting that Henry starts to wear black after Gloucester dies, and Margaret does after Suffolk dies.
Again, well-staged battle scenes. Though what stuck out for me was how affectionate York was with all of his sons, particularly Richard. A fascinating contrast to the way the Duchess treats him in Richard III. Jonathan Slinger transformed himself yet again, and he was absolutely riveting, even with a few lines.
Young Clifford (Keith Dunphy) was doing his best impression of Hannibal Lecter after York killed his father. It was really disturbing.
Henry VI, Part III
Henry never appeared armed. He is the calm at the centre of the storm, keeping his men and York both in check, and neither thanked him for it. Even when he was furious -- as in his first speech to York in 1.1 -- he was still begging, pleading, desperate to live in peace and willing to do anything to preserve it. But this is his weakness, and Margaret's fury was understandable.
Between plays, she transformed visually into an Iron Lady, abandoning Henry to lead armies, and far more dangerous than she was as Joan.
Wakefield was quite devastating. First, the three sons interrupted York during a quiet moment with Rutland (wearing a paper crown -- the paper crown) to announce Margaret's arrival. There's no textual interaction between York and Rutland, but this served to make the next scene all the worse. Clifford was methodical, taking off his coat and taking his time. The scene was slow, painfully so, and Rutland's death was drawn out. I'd never have thought to see it that way, but it worked very well, especially as a prelude to York's death. The lords were literally jabbing at him with blades as Margaret spoke slowly and deliberately. And the apparition of his head over the gates was very effective. I ended up talking to him at the pub afterward and he said he did it because he wanted the audience to know it was resolved and premeditated, and to see a man who had been driven to this action by circumstance.
Richard in 2.1 was chilling -- while Edward and George wept, he drove a dagger into his hand and cried on revenge. Forbes Masson played Edward, who is sadly underused in these plays.
Towton was brutal -- the death of York paid back in kind by the mutilation of the dying Clifford. They cut out his tongue and might have ripped out one of his eyes -- it was a bit difficult to tell from my angle. Not to mention Richard chopping off certain other parts of his anatomy. Ouch. I didn't expect to feel anything for him, but that was painful.
I'm not entirely sure about the staging of the scene between Edward and Elizabeth in 3.2; in fact, when I talked to Ann Ogbomo at the Dirty Duck after, she agreed with me. Elizabeth was on her knees with Edward prowling round her, and they rarely looked at one another, which doesn't make sense to me. I think for that scene to make sense there has to be some attraction between them, and not just on Edward's side. Either attraction or, if you want to go that way, calculation. But either way, something has to be going on. Of course, Shakespeare really discounts Edward in general and he's a much less attractive character in the text than he was historically.
Richard's monologue was magnificent. He was mesmerising and so corrosively bitter. But since he's already been cast in the part of Machiavel, he's determined to play it.
Wonderful turnaround in 3.3 when Warwick makes his embassy. Edward takes the place of French princesses in the golden picture Frame and becomes a feminised object, however briefly. Although, to be honest, given Shakespeare's portrayal, he might as well be an object, for the characterisation he gets. Another great moment was when Elizabeth appears next to him in the portrait. Very cleverly done.
Henry was visually linked to Richard II, wearing white in prison. But he was happy -- he needed no audience. Absolutely gorgeous image of him standing beneath a shower of red and white feathers, rather than sand. And then there was the random bit where he blesses Richmond, because, God forbid we forget about him. ;) At least Shakespeare doesn't insist upon mentioning him every time one of his second cousins turns up (I'm looking at you, Vergil).
Clarence also has little to do. He keeps betraying people, but we don't really get a reason for it. At least Richard explains himself.
Tewkesbury. Margaret weeping over her son's body was far more effective than I necessarily expected. She absolutely fell apart. It is interesting that, just like in the sources, Margaret's motherhood is the source of her tragedy, especially in light of York's speech to her in 1.4.
Speaking of York, his ghost kept wandering in at opportune moments. Most effectively in 5.2 when he distracted Warwick and got him killed.
Henry's death scene was utterly riveting. So many links to Richard II's death, down to the circle of blood when he was dragged offstage. But Richard's monologue after the murder -- wow. Just wow. His bitterness, how trapped he seems to be, it comes out so strongly here, even more so than in the long speech in 3.2. His face and form have become who he is but not by choice. Everyone assumes he is evil because he is deformed. I actually felt genuinely sorry for him, in spite of Henry's body lying there in front of him. There was so much self-loathing in that speech. And then he dragged Henry -- poor, helpless Henry -- offstage, and everyone suddenly remembered he's sort of a homicidal maniac.
It's one of those plays that just sort of stops, rather than actually ending. But the ending was charged in this performance, as the music got louder and faster, and Richard was left onstage, carrying the infant Prince of Wales, in a single spotlight, and said the word 'Now' before everything went dark. It was absolutely thrilling.
Richard III
Not sure how much I liked the modern setting. I don't think it took away from the production, necessarily, but I don't think it really added anything either. And there were bits that were weird and distracting. Plus, all the ghosts were in costume from the previous plays, which I really liked, since it gave the play a surreal quality.
It began -- as I'd hoped -- in the very same position that last night's performance ended. With Prince Edward facing Richard and wearing the Paper Crown of Doom.
A very interesting throwback to More and the Mirror for Magistrates in that they not only kept all the textural references to Jane Shore, they also brought her onstage (played by Alexia Healey). She took some of the random Citizen lines, as well as a few of Hastings' in the scene when he hears about Stanley's dream. It does make his position more ambiguous since it's repeatedly pointed out that Jane was Edward's mistress before he died. And apparently something was going on with her during 3.4 that I couldn't see from where I was sitting, where it was implied that Richard tortured her and echoed Joan's last scene in 1 Henry VI.
The scene between Richard and Anne (Hannah Barrie) was staged creepily well. She addressed her first speech to everyone from the balcony -- a public oration -- and her confrontation with Richard had them constantly darting about the stage. Anne actually tried to stab him several times, but he kept forestalling her. The final time, he grabbed her and they just stared at one another for a few seconds. It was incredibly charged -- even more so than the scene between Edward and Elizabeth in 3 Henry VI. You also got the sense that Anne realised exactly how bad a position she'd be in if she stabbed the king's brother. Calculating, but sensible.
Elizabeth and Edward were both in white and gold to begin. A sharp contrast to creepy, crazy Margaret, who was very literally carrying her son's bones on her back. Very interesting and surprising moment when Margaret confronted Dorset in 1.3, since he was played by Wela Frasier, the same actor who played Prince Edward in 3 Henry VI. Her speech to him -- which I hadn't paid much attention to in the text -- had a markedly different tone, as if she was literally seeing her son's ghost. Very poignant and sorrowful.
She used his bones to curse everyone, an echo of Joan and Margery Jourdain both, but Margaret's curses succeeded. One apparently needs the bones of a beloved son for curses to take effect. A compelling point about the vocal power of marginalised women.
Clarence's death was also really well done. The murderers looked like middle managers in tan suits and black-rimmed glasses, pulling machetes out of their jackets. The one who hesitated at the end of the scene was executed with Rivers and Grey. The other turned out to be Lovell.
Richard is marvellous. His performance seems to support my theory about the self-conscious theatricality that links him, Henry V, and Richard II. And even more so visually, in the coronation sequence in 4.2, when Richard stepped over the body of dead Henry, just as Richard II stepped over the body of Woodstock on his way to the throne. Also the placement of Anne, constantly present though she did not speak, echoed that of Isabel, who had been played by the same actress.
Very interesting literalisation of More's 'kinges games' in the obviously staged nature of Buckingham and Richard telling the Mayor of London the official story of Hastings' treachery. Down to announced stage directions over a microphone. And Richard coming onstage in 3.7 doing his best impression of Ned Flanders was highly amusing.
The cursing scene in 4.4 was straightforward. Margaret was gleeful and Elizabeth desperate. The interaction between Richard and the Duchess was also well done, especially his attempts to drown her out by signalling the drums. The emphasis on silencing women was key -- it seemed to speak to the cycle as a whole. Richard and Elizabeth were much as I expected and hoped. She did not submit so much as smile and double-cross while she smiled. I love that Richard spoke the line 'Relenting fool and shallow changing woman' before Elizabeth had left the stage, and for a moment, she just looked at him before exiting. And they kept the two lines of Stanley's where Elizabeth is revealed to have betrayed Richard. Why do people keep thinking he fooled her?
No Elizabeth of York. Which feels more accurate to me. The lack of her -- and of Margaret Beaufort, whose mentions were kept as well -- leads one to question Richmond and his peace. She is a very noticeable absence, moreso onstage than in the text, especially in the context of the way Henry V ended.
Anne's speech before the Tower in 4.1 was bitterly self-mocking. In this, she seemed to echo Richard's own self-loathing, though she lacked his deformities. As for him, this was particularly evident in the dream sequence -- one of the best moments in the entire production, I thought. It began with Richmond downstage and Richard upstage, before Richard got to his feet, advanced, and threatened Richmond, and his deformities had magically vanished. For a second, I wondered if they were staging it as Richmond's dream primarily and that the ghosts were going to enter to protect him, but it was soon obvious that it was Richard. The ghosts entered, though they changed the order to have Henry VI be the last and Anne the first. She just taunted him. Then the others, one by one, who wounded him literally as well as figuratively, recreating his deformities. The monologue after the dream was absolutely devastating as a result -- 'Richard loves Richard, that is I and I'. It was a fantastic echo back to 3 Henry VI, where he killed Henry and briefly broke down.
The ghosts reappeared one last time at Bosworth Field (including Jane, which is an interesting departure from the text) and the ghost of York distracted Richard long enough for Richmond to kill him. That was a sad moment, considering what we knew about their relationship.
Richmond is a lacklustre role but he was played by the same actor who played Hotspur, and he did what he could. I laughed at the line where he requested that Richard's body be given honourable burial. Nice rewriting of history there.
I do have overall thoughts as well, but most of them are so tied up with my dissertation that I'll spare you and put them into my Shakespeare chapter instead.