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

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