Review – Edward II, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 5th March 2025

Posted on March 6, 2025 by therealchrisparkle

It’s not often you’re invited to be part of the procession around a royal coffin to pay your respects to the dear departed monarch (in this case, Edward I, fine old chap that he was). But it’s an unusual, inclusive and rather exciting way of getting the audience focussed on the power of the crown at the beginning of Daniel Raggett’s clear, pacy and gripping new production of Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II at the Swan Theatre.

The one thing that every tittering adolescent knows about Edward II is the way he met his final come-uppance with a red hot poker. Whether that’s the genuine historical truth, or just a myth invented centuries ago to deter men from the sin of Sodom, is probably a question for debate. But Raggett’s production makes it extremely clear that the king and his favourite, Gaveston, are more than just bosom buddies. The opening scene, which Marlowe sets as “a street in London”, shows Gaveston, Spenser, Baldock and others in a sweaty gentlemen’s sauna, perfectly transporting us from 1307 to the present day; and our first sight of Edward and Gaveston together shows them in full embrace, smothering each other with hungry kisses and desperate sexual attraction, much to the disgust of their fellow courtiers, who clearly consider themselves real men in comparison. To them, Edward is every inch a pipsqueak. It’s a fascinating, powerful juxtaposition of sexualities; homophobia is clearly rife in the court of King Edward, and the audience can only admire the honesty of the two main characters living their lives as they see fit.

But it’s not as simple as that. Gaveston is a ruffian and a scoundrel, who knows full well that by dancing attendance on the king he will receive favour in the form of riches and status. And within a few seconds of them being together, Edward has bestowed on him the titles of Lord High Chamberlain and Earl of Cornwall, and has encouraged him to knock the Bishop of Coventry’s mitre off his head and “rend his stole”, in a startlingly anarchical scene of insubordination that reduces a figure of religious influence and significance into a shocked victim of assault; and one only has to look at politics in the US today to see the similarities between Edward and Gaveston and Trump and Musk. Never has this play felt more relevant. One might almost expect Gaveston to come on stage wielding a chainsaw.

Edward’s insistence on his own eccentric bestowal of power can only ever end in one way. Gaveston’s inevitable murder takes place at the beginning of Act Three (of Five), after which the king looks to find new favourites in Spenser and Baldock whilst Mortimer plots alongside the Queen to overthrow him. Eventually, what no one foresees is that the future King Edward III views the line of succession as giving him complete control of the country, outwitting Mortimer who had expected to become Lord Protector; a case of this crown ain’t big enough for both of us. The play ends with the usual optimism of a new order bringing in calm and stability after the chaos that has ensued.

Daniel Raggett has condensed this weighty and poetic play into 100 minutes without an interval, literally zipping through the text, reducing the number of characters by two-thirds whilst maintaining the integrity of the original and letting Marlowe’s words do the work. Normally my heart sinks when I discover a production has abandoned the interval in favour of getting the audience home early, but this is one of those rare occasions where it is completely the right decision.

A few props and tables are all that are required to suggest the different scenes, whilst beneath the surface, the stage rolls back to reveal the murky pond and prison where Edward will end his days. Tim Lutkin’s superb lighting design focuses our attention on all the significant elements of the production, and helps make the scene changes slick and quick, while Tommy Reilly’s atmospheric music helps build the suspense and tension of the inevitable outcome. The climactic death scenes of Gaveston and Edward are staged with realistic and riveting horror; afterwards their frail corpses reveal a stark contrast with the powerful people they were in life.

Much of the impact of the first half of the play stems from the performance by Eloka Ivo as Gaveston, a wannabe nobleman, unsurprisingly tending towards the arrogant, with a voice as robust as his physical appearance. It’s a fantastic performance. As an aside, the production makes good use of his size in comparison with the king’s (Daniel Evans) relatively slight stature; when reunited for the second time, the king jumps into Gaveston’s arms like a five year old delighted to be swung around by his daddy.

Ruta Gedmintas is excellent as Queen Isabella; haughty and aloof, seeing no need to hide her disdain of her wayward husband, and clinical in her continued quest for power. In Edward’s court, the best performances come from Geoffrey Lumb’s savage Warwick, a kill first and ask questions later kind of courtier, and Emilio Doorgasingh as the complex and troubled Pembroke. Jacob James Beswick gives us a knowingly sly Lightborn, the murderer with a special trick up his sleeve for the king, and there’s good support from Stavros Demetraki and Kwaku Mills as Gaveston’s allies and the king’s new favourites, Spenser and Baldock. For press night, Prince Edward – eventually to become King Edward III – was played by Freddie Beck, conveying the leap from jimjams to military command with excellent, clear, youthful authority.

But of course it is Daniel Evans, the RSC’s very own Artistic Director, lured back into acting fourteen years after we saw him in Company at Sheffield, who grabs hold of the role of Edward II and runs with it for all its worth. Adopting a shrill, petulant tone that can both badger and wheedle its way around his opponents, casting his queen aside with derogatory cruelty, yet also appearing totally vulnerable when all the veneer of power is gone, it’s a stunning and brave performance that compels your attention throughout.

With an extraordinary Hamlet in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and this gripping production of Edward II in the Swan, the RSC are having a cracking start to 2025, Long may it continue!

Production photos by Helen Murray

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Henry V, Headlong, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 8th March 2023

Posted on March 9, 2023 by therealchrisparkle

Wasn’t it Bonnie Tyler who said, I’m holding out for a hero ’til the end of the night; he’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fast and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight? I think it was. And if there’s one thing Britain could do with right now, it’s a national hero. Someone to lead us once more into the breach, someone to get their hands dirty in the fight scenes. Someone to stir our desires, raise our spirits, smack our heads together and put us back on the right route. We need a King Harry!

And Headlong, in collaboration with Shakespeare’s Globe, the Leeds Playhouse and the Royal and Derngate, have done their darndest to give us one, in the form of Oliver Johnstone as the eponymous warrior King. But this King Henry is no straightforward military machine. He’s a complex soul. Quirkily opening with a scene from Act IV of Henry IV Part II, we see that he’s hungry for power, taking the crown off his father before he’s even dead; but he’s also riddled with self-doubt. In a fascinating reading of the role, every time the king makes a great decision or rallies the troops with a stirring speech, afterwards, he doubles up in internal agonies.

His famous breach speech at the siege of Harfleur starts with him cowering on the floor, slowly daring to build in confidence as his words hit home. Not so much whooping up his fighting men, he’s actually using the speech to bestow strength on himself. It’s only when the French are fully defeated, and he’s taken the land he wants, that he relaxes – to an extent; his self-doubt is replaced with a short temper and an even shorter fuse. Normally, that final scene where he woos Katherine is treated as light relief and an insight into the more human aspect of Henry’s personality. Not in this production. He’s as snappy as a crocodile that’s just been given bad news.

But what am I doing, starting at the end? Let’s go back to the beginning. Holly Race Roughan’s production has sliced away many of the unnecessary fripperies, to bring us a Henry V that’s lean, direct, clear and in your face. None of this muse of fire nonsense, that’s out; no Archbishops and bishops nattering on the sidelines. Instead, it concentrates on the action, the motives, and the arguments. A few words with his brothers and his uncle and it’s straight in with the French Ambassadors and the mocking tennis balls. To help us keep up with this extremely pacey production, the cast frequently announce the change of scene and tell us which characters they are playing. Brecht would have loved it. And it’s a simple device that works incredibly well. Traditionally Henry V has been considered the most patriotic of plays, right down to Churchill using Lord Olivier’s famous performance in the 1944 film for wartime propaganda purposes. This production excels at bringing out the question of responsibility in war, and the consequences of marching into other countries’ territory – it reveals the nationalistic pettiness that can have so much influence on people’s behaviour.

You may have gathered that if you’re a Shakespeare purist, this is probably not the production for you. I’m not sure that the immortal bard would have expected the new King to be greeted with a rousing chorus of God Save Our Gracious King, nor would Pistol have called Fluellen a Welsh C*nt. Nor is it that likely that the Dauphin and Orleans would have had such a – shall we say – close bromance. But Shakespeare’s big and strong enough to look after himself; he’s been performed for the last four hundred years, and he’ll certainly be performed for the next four hundred. So no need to get anxious on his behalf.

Moi Tran’s simple set consists of two rows of chairs either side of the stage that the cast occupy whilst they’re not actually involved in a scene, in front of a big green ruffled curtain that occasionally rises to reveal a nicely antiqued mirror wall, perfect for the King’s soul-searching speeches. It’s a deliberately small and plain set; you can look around the back and the sides to see the backstage gubbins and people occasionally walking around. It adds to the sense of performance right here right now – tonight, in this very theatre, in front of this very audience, ten people have come together to tell the story of Henry V. It’s up to us to interpret what we see and let our imaginations run riot within the wooden O. It’s what the Chorus would have wanted, if his opening speech had been kept. The artificiality of the presentation is highlighted in the very final scene – again, not written by Shakespeare – which brings the story fully into 21^st century Britain. It involves an official, someone trying to take British Citizenship, and a vacuum cleaner. I’ll say no more.

The whole show is extremely slickly presented and performed by an excellent ensemble who dovetail beautifully into their respective roles and scenes. Oliver Johnstone is excellent as Henry, at times meek and uncertain, at others bombastic and cruel. He gives a great reading of the text – clear, emotional and nuanced; in the scene, for example, where he realises he has been betrayed by his friend Scroop, he treads the finest of lines between fury and pure sadness. He’s really going to miss his old buddy – but it won’t stop him from choking him to death.

Helena Lymbery is outstanding as King Henry IV, and Henry’s uncle Exeter – a true support and enforcer who will stand for no nonsense. I really enjoyed the performance by Jon Furlong as Bardolph – if there is one stand-out moment of the play it’s probably the end of Act One and the death of Bardolph; a superb piece of theatricality. Joshua Griffin is great as the belligerent Fluellen, and Eleanor Henderson is also terrific as the obnoxiously entitled Prince Louis. And Geoffrey Lumb beautifully conveys the range of emotions faced by the King of France as he at first defends his country but then realises when he has been beaten. But the whole cast do a first rate job of clearly, succinctly, and punchily bringing this 16^th century play to life. The show continues in the Royal auditorium until 18^th March.