The Turn Of The Screw – March 2008

5/10

By Henry James, adapted by Ali Gorton

Directed by Ali Gorton

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Thursday 13th March 2008

I nearly gave this a 3/10 rating, as the first half was very weak. It picked up in the second half though, and so I felt that overall a 5/10 rating was just appropriate.

There were a number of problems with the production. The set was another portmanteau effort, which seemed too jumbled to give me any real sense of place most of the time. The scene down by the lake was good, with some of the furniture removed, and mist billowing out across the stage and auditorium, but otherwise I found the locations quite confusing. Added to this was the lighting, which was often dim. For good reason admittedly, but it still made it harder to see what was going on. The story was told in a strange sequence, with the last scene chronologically shown first, then a flashback to the governess being offered her post, then another flashback to when the two servants were alive, then a flash forward to the governess’s arrival at the house. Knowing the story reasonably well, I wasn’t too worried, but I did wonder how someone who didn’t know it would get on.

Apart from that, there were some odd effects, such as having one of the lights flash on and off rapidly. It was presumably meant to tell us something about the ghostly apparitions, but I certainly didn’t get anything from it. And the horrendous wig the previous governess was wearing was only scary in the humorous sense. But the biggest problem was in the delivery of the lines. Again, I knew the story fairly well, so I was able to get by, and perhaps a headset would have helped a bit, but unfortunately Honeysuckle Weeks showed a distinct lack of vocal prowess in this part. She gabbled a lot of her lines as if she were in a race. We had started fifteen minutes late, and I briefly wondered if they were hurrying to catch up the lost time, but it was just the pace they were playing it at. Her voice definitely needs to be developed if she’s going to do much on the stage. [18/9/11 Seen her several times since and she’s been fine – don’t know what went wrong tonight]

Despite that, she got across a good picture of a highly strung young woman of a romantic disposition, used to her own family, who gets caught up in the atmosphere of the first house she goes to work in. The possibility of the ghosts being entirely in her imagination is one that was new to Steve, though I’d come across it before in a TV adaptation, and it’s well presented here. Personally I think there’s a bit of both options going on. The two servants have left an emotional legacy which has been ignored up to now, and the sensitive governess picks up on this and takes it further than she has any right to, making serious misjudgements along the way. There were some scary moments – I held Steve’s arm for a while – and the death scene was well done, so the evening ended better than it had begun.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Uncle Vanya – March 2008

6/10

By Anton Chekov, translated by Stephen Mulrine

Directed by Peter Hall

Company: Peter Hall Company

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Wednesday 12th March 2008

This is one of the few plays where I saw a fantastic production first time out, which makes it difficult for me to be entirely fair to all subsequent productions. This one didn’t do too badly, mind you, and the translation was excellent – suitably up-to-date and flowing without jarring at all.

It was the first production put on in the new Rose Theatre at Kingston, and the set reflects that acting space. The stage is basically an open space, with no flats and minimal dressing. There’s a tree to reflect the countryside, but otherwise it’s just tables, chairs, a piano and an easel, all of which are moved around to create the appropriate rooms. It’s an interesting use of space, giving a very open feel, and acknowledging the theatricality of the piece while still giving us fairly precise locations to frame the action. I liked that awareness of the artificiality. This is the first time I’ve seen a production of a Chekov play where the comedic emphasis really worked. I could see what the writer was trying to achieve – these are comedies after all – and could appreciate the humour he was bringing out by having such over-the-top reactions from such ordinary folk. I still feel there’s more to be got out of the play on the emotional side than I saw tonight, but I have a better understanding of Chekov’s sense of humour now, which I hope will help when I see his other plays.

The performances were good overall. The best for me was Loo Brealy as Sonya. She got across the range of that character’s emotions very well, from her rampant explanation of the doctor’s ideas to her attempt to comfort her uncle at the end of the play. I also liked Ronald Pickup as the professor, as I found I could relate both to his feelings as he goes through his pain and discomfort, and to the effect he’s having on everyone around him, making them dance attendance and disrupting the smooth running of the household. It’s Yelena’s beauty that disrupts the emotional life of the estate, but it’s his presence in the first place that throws the rhythm of their lives out of balance and makes them more vulnerable to the other temptations (I reckon). His grumpiness was mainly down to his ill-health, and once the nanny character gave him some sympathy, he was putty in her hands.

I also noticed how much the characters seemed to be throwing their lines at each other, and not really communicating at all, except sporadically. The soliloquies were also presented clearly, with each soliloquiser coming to the centre front of the stage to speak to the audience. No musing out loud here, which is another way the theatricality of the piece was emphasised.

The doctor, played by Neil Pearson, was sneaking vodka into his tea during the first scene. I was less sure this time that the doctor actually does as much work as he says he does. Like most of the men in this play, he’s good at grumbling, including grumbling about how much other people grumble. Michelle Dockery as Yelena gave me the impression of a fish out of water. She had no idea how to live in the country, and although she was honest enough about her feelings for her husband, that was about the extent of her virtues. She doesn’t want to work, she’s trapped in a loveless marriage, and she doesn’t seem to realise how much of an effect she’s having on the people around her, apart from her husband. I didn’t get the feeling that she’s really interrogating the doctor about Sonya in order to snare him for herself this time.

So overall it was an enjoyable evening, with some interesting variations that have given me a fair bit to think about. The post-show discussion added a few pieces of information, which I’ve incorporated into the notes.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Prayer For My Daughter – March 2008

5/10

By Thomas Babe

Directed by Dominic Hill

Venue: Young Vic Theatre

Date: Saturday 8th March

The Young Vic has been transformed for this play. Instead of the seats on four sides round the central stage, there are two steeply raked banks of seats on either side of a long narrow acting space, which is on two levels. At ground level (stage-wise) there’s the precinct room where the action mainly takes place. Above this is the street level, with the entrance stairs. There are balloons and streamers everywhere, as it’s midnight after July 4th, and mercifully, there was a fan blowing. It’s a massive construction, and frankly I don’t know whether it’s entirely necessary, but it’s certainly impressive.

The play, originally staged in 1977, concerns two men brought in for questioning by two cops. An old woman has been shot, and these men are the suspects. As the interrogations, and some beatings, unfold, we also learn that one of the cops has a daughter who’s threatening to commit suicide. His reluctance to go out looking for her is the dramatic focus of the play, and she’s the daughter for whom they say a prayer at the end. During the play, the younger cop takes drugs, and gives some drugs to the suspects, while the older cop, who’s been drinking steadily, has his gun lifted by one of the suspects and nearly gets shot. It’s not exactly an advert for the NYPD.

The performances were good, with Matthew Marsh giving a very strong portrayal of the older cop with a daughter he just doesn’t understand. He makes the character’s choice not to help her seem understandable, even if it also appears callous. The other actors did a fine job too, and the only problem I had with this play is that it seemed tremendously dated. It may have had some punch back in 1977, but nowadays, with all the drama that’s been and gone in between, the situation and characters seem hackneyed to my eyes. Having said that, I didn’t feel bored, and there were some good moments in the script. We were surprised that a woman had brought her three young sons to see the show, as there was a fair bit of blood and violence as well as the drug use, but it takes all sorts. I hope they get a stronger play for next time.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Death and Life of Sherlock Holmes – March 2008

8/10

By David Stuart Davies

Directed by Gareth Armstrong

Venue: Mill Studio

Date: Friday 17th March 2008

No need for a headset tonight. Sitting in the front row, of a very small studio theatre, we also had the benefit of an older actor with impeccable diction and sufficient power to be absolutely clear throughout this engaging performance. Roger Llewellyn reprised his role as Sherlock Holmes (and a number of other characters) in a new play, based on Arthur Conan Doyle’s attempts to kill off Sherlock and get some peace. In fact, he got the opposite, and had to resurrect him, but this play concentrates more on the assassination aspect.

The set was much as before, with a chair, table and coat stand to our left, representing the 221b Baker Street flat, and another table and chair to our right, for Conan Doyle and his alter-ego Watson. Roger wore a smart frock coat over a regular Victorian suit, only adding a topper when Professor Moriarty came to call. With this, and some lighting and sound effects, Roger Llewellyn wove his magic. He began by coming right to the front of the performance space and making an announcement to the gathering of shareholders of the Strand magazine – us. As the magazine’s editor(?) he had to inform us of the sad news that Mr Conan Doyle would not be writing any more Sherlock Holmes stories after the current one had completed its run, and expressed all the regret and concern that must have been felt at the time. Not only were they going to miss out on some superb stories, but the magazine might not survive the drop in circulation.

Next we hear from Conan Doyle himself, as he explains his dislike both for Holmes and the way these stories have taken attention from what he considers to be his better work – his romances and historical novels. He’s fed up being the “Holmes man”, and determines to finish the blighter off. Holmes, meanwhile, knows nothing of this, and continues to solve whatever puzzles the writer can throw at him with the easy arrogance and self-satisfaction that Conan Doyle finds so loathsome. We get to see a glimpse of one of these, with Roger acting out brilliantly the character of the wrongly accused chap that Holmes saves from the gallows. When speaking as Holmes, he often includes Watson in his talk, and looks at the chair on the left where Conan Doyle sits to speak to us or write his letters, etc. This was a nice touch.

Eventually Conan Doyle enlists Professor Moriarty to help bump Holmes off. The Professor has been let into the secret, and chooses to inform Holmes of the writer’s plan. It comes as quite a shock to Holmes to find out he’s a fictional character, but the old arrogance soon reasserts itself. Between them, they agree to change the plan. Meantime, Conan Doyle is already planning his next work. With his interest in the supernatural and spiritualism, he wants to include these elements in a story. He’s thinking of a supernatural creature, perhaps a huge hound, that seems to haunt the moors. The only trouble is, he needs a strong character with good scientific reasoning powers to hold the work together and carry out the investigation. But who could this be? He’s determined it won’t be you-know-who, as he’s now dead; Conan Doyle’s just finished the last chapter of that story! It’s quite a problem.

The main enjoyment of the evening was Roger Llewellyn’s performance, or rather performances, as he did all the parts – Conan Doyle, Sherlock, and Moriarty – so well. His ability to change from one character to another with scarcely a beat between, was remarkable, and his accents were superb. The script was still very entertaining, though perhaps less fun than the earlier play which covered Holmes’s cases, but it was good to see Conan Doyle brought in, and to play with the idea of a fictional character having a life of his own. Which of course he does, even if it is always 1895.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Spies – March 2008

6/10

By Michael Frayn, adapted by Daniel Jamieson

Directed by Nikki Sved

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Thursday 6th March 2008

This was a gentle romp through the memory banks of one elderly man, as he reviewed his childhood experiences during the war. He and his friend Keith began a game of watching Keith’s mother, under the belief that she was a German spy, and as the information comes in we get to see the reality behind the game.

The narrator, the older Stefan, takes us with him as he, and we, watch the young Stephen go through the wartime experiences he’s recalling. The set was interesting. At first I wasn’t sure that it would help us to relate to the story, as there seemed to be more emphasis on corrugated iron than on the privet hedges which were central to Stefan’s initial memories. However, as the story unfolded, the other locations that were needed were brilliantly brought to life by the constant folding and unfolding of panels and doors. Occasionally some furniture had to be brought on, such as the beds, but this was done pretty smoothly and didn’t hold things up much. This is only the second week of the tour, so I expect things will get even smoother as time goes on.

The performances were all excellent, especially Benjamin Warren as young Stephen, and Jordan Whyte as the spied upon Mrs Hayward. I didn’t hear all of the dialogue, and there was one unfortunate line which was lost when Benjamin Warren needed to cough, and the others seemed to move the dialogue along without getting clear what Stephen was trying to say. However, none of this spoiled it for me. The reflective nature of the story, and the humour and gentleness with which it was told, made for an engaging evening. I especially liked the way the two boys find out that Mrs Hayward has been marking some dates in her diary with a “secret” mark. These dates occur once a month, always around the new moon, and they jump to completely the wrong conclusion. They also mention some other dates which have an exclamation mark, about three of them, and one on the Haywards’ wedding anniversary. Very suspicious! And very funny. Stephen’s discovery of “the value of x” was also good fun.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

I’ll Be The Devil – March 2008

2/10

By Leo Butler

Directed by Ramin Gray

Company: RSC

Venue: Tricycle Theatre

Date: Wednesday 5th March 2008

I’ve enjoyed a number of adaptations and works based on Shakespeare’s plays, but today’s effort, covering the rarely humorous topic of the British occupation of Ireland in the eighteenth century, was a particularly dreary affair, with over-long scenes and some ferociously authentic Irish accents that made large chunks of it unintelligible to me. Loosely based on The Tempest, so loosely that the original had vanished over the horizon, this play was meant to show us….what? From the opening scene with a blinded Dermot hanging on the stocks like an Irish Christ, I was completely befuddled by the gloom, the impenetrable dialogue, and the uninteresting characters. Bit of a problem, then.

Fortunately, the performance only ran for an hour and three quarters, so I didn’t have to wait too long to get back out in the fresh air. The other plus points were: it was our first time at the Tricycle, and it’s a nice little theatre, so we’ll enjoy going again, and maybe not just for RSC productions. The scene with the colonel deciding on a suitable punishment for Lieutenant Coyle, was good, and got across more about English attitudes to the Irish than the whole of the rest of the play. Actually, it had to, as there weren’t any other English characters around.

David Toole, playing a pot-boy, was amazing. Without legs, he was still able to move easily and gracefully around the room, and I found I was watching him most of the time during the tavern scene. Derbhle Crotty as the witch-figure, Maryanne, was the most clearly defined character, and although her scene with Lieutenant Coyle went on far too long, there were some interesting possibilities there. He’s a Catholic, pretending to be Protestant, who’s taken on his executed brother’s family, and given the widow a couple of children to keep her company. Now he has to pretend they’re not connected to him to avoid being discovered, but that doesn’t work, and he’s treated to some barbaric behaviour as a result. This comes from his fellow Irishmen, all former Catholics themselves.

It’s an unpleasant play in many ways, and while the violence and language aren’t so much of a problem for me (I did look away once or twice), I didn’t care for the boredom and lack of involvement. I don’t know if the playwright is Irish or not, but at times this seemed to be a fake Irish play, with caricatures rather than characters. Given that it’s inspired by The Tempest, maybe that’s the intention, but it didn’t help me to relate to the performance at all. Better luck next time.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Deep Blue Sea – March 2008

6/10

By Terence Rattigan

Directed by Edward Hall

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 3rd March 2008

This is one of my favourite plays, but I have seen productions I prefer to this one. Rattigan is the master of restrained emotions, of showing people who have deep feelings within themselves that rarely, if ever, find expression, and when they do, it’s usually not convenient for themselves or others. Here the emotions were clearly displayed, almost overly so, and that feeling of social restraint was completely lost. I couldn’t see why Hester, the wife, wouldn’t just say, “Sod this for a game of soldiers”, and leave with the husband the first time he came calling, but then we wouldn’t have had a full evening, which would have been a shame.

The set was the usual tatty flat. This one was tattier than most, and the back wall had a see-through cut-away so that we could see the action on the landing and stairs. The performances were fine – no criticism of the actors is intended here – but the direction made the whole play seem flabbier than it is. There’s a lot of power under the surface, but when it’s not held back, it doesn’t come across as strongly. Greta Scacchi was a fairly robust Hester, who looked as if she’d be perfectly capable of seeing off several Freddies. Probably captained her school hockey team, you know the sort. She was more restrained in the final scene with Mr Miller, and that worked better for me. Simon Williams was almost too good as the husband. He came across as more understanding and less straight-laced than I’ve seen before, which was fine in terms of relating to the way his character suffers as he sees the woman he loves going under, but doesn’t help to explain why she doesn’t just pack a bag and scarper back to a reasonably good life with a loving husband. I would have.

And given this Freddie, I might not have waited till my husband turned up. I couldn’t make out why Dugald Bruce-Lockhart was veering into campness in his portrayal of Freddie. I realised afterwards that they might have been trying to suggest that the problem with the relationship was that Freddie was a closet homosexual, and so couldn’t love Hester as she wanted to be loved. If so, I can see where they’re coming from. Rattigan was gay, and this play was triggered by his own grief at an ex-lover’s suicide. Not being able to put such matters explicitly on the stage (although the first draft was apparently about two gay men), Rattigan changed the characters round to be more acceptable.

It’s a fine idea, and with another play, or another production, it might work, but although Rattigan has plenty going on inside each character, he doesn’t have a lot of ambiguity going on in his plays. Freddie is clearly an ex-RAF pilot who is having trouble adjusting to regular life after the excitement and lack of responsibility of the war years. If he is a closet gay, he’s not out even to himself, and if they were trying to insert this as a possible motivation for his character, then I feel they did the play a disservice. Trust the text. Whatever the cause, I felt this portrayal unbalanced the play, making it more about Freddie than about Hester’s unreasoning and uncontrollable passion. Given all that, Dugald gave a fine performance of a character that Rattigan didn’t write. His borrowing of the shilling to leave for Hester brought a gasp from the audience. It’s certainly a shocking moment, and came across as well as I can remember.

The other supports were fine. Jacqueline Tong was good as the gossipy landlady Mrs Elton, while Geoff Breton and Rebecca O’Mara grated just enough as the unsophisticated young couple determined to help, and gave us a nice insight into other people’s relationships. Jack Tarlton as Jackie Jackson did a good job of showing us just how embarrassing Freddie had become. But the accolades for the evening had to go to Tim McMullan as Mr Miller, the foreign ex-doctor who helps Hester in more ways than just the medical. He conveyed a sense of that character’s hinterland, which I often feel is as big as most people’s countries. I was moved to tears as he did his best to persuade Hester not to have another go at suicide.

For once, Hester’s paintings were actually visible on the stage, including a study of Freddie. Unfortunately, they were of a quality to stretch credulity when Hester’s husband professed to like one of them. The earlier piece over the fireplace was better, but now I see why they’re often left invisible to the audience.

Although it wasn’t entirely to my liking, I still enjoyed the evening, as it’s a very good play, and the production did have its good moments.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Taming Of The Shrew – February 2008

8/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Andrew Hilton

Company SATTF (Shakespeare at the Tobacco Factory)

Venue: Tobacco Factory

Date: Thursday 28th February 2008

This was our first time at the Tobacco Factory, and our first for seeing this particular theatre group, so we didn’t have too many expectations. The seats were pretty basic; standard folding chairs, but with really comfy cushions, and the auditorium itself was equally basic. There were seats on all sides, and in the middle a partly tiled floor, with pillars at each corner. Apart from a long table and some chairs, that were brought on as needed, that was it. No trapdoors, nobody abseiling down ropes from the low ceiling. Just the actors and the text, which made a refreshing change.

What also made a refreshing change was the detail in the performances, especially the way that the actors were willing to take their time with their lines. Leo Wringer as Petruchio, in particular, left some valuable pauses between some of his lines, giving his character thinking time, and an opportunity not only to show that his character is thinking, but also what he’s thinking. Obviously it meant the pace was slower, but with so much to see and enjoy, that wasn’t a problem.

The Christopher Sly subplot was used here, and they added the action of him being slung out again at the end. For the rest, the twists and turns of the plot were all perfectly clear, and the various reactions, especially those of Katherine, came across very well. In this production, she seems to be an intelligent but unhappy woman, who can’t see a role for herself as wife and mother amongst these people. Petruchio offers her a lifeline, though it takes her a while to recognise it as she’s become so accustomed to snarling at everybody. Bianca is a simpering little minx, and quite frankly I’d have been irritated with her as well, but here Kate learns to rise above her immature tantrums and play whatever role she needs to. Her father’s outrageous behaviour in selling his daughters off to the highest bidder was softened here by his evident desire to be kind. Petruchio himself is fairly calm, and slower of speech than most I’ve seen; he considers what to say before saying it, but he is capable of quick response as well. He’s an ideal match for Kate; a dating agency couldn’t have done better. The difference between the couples at the end of the play is clear – Petruchio and Kate are likely to have a happy life together, while the other two couples will spend their time bickering and miserable. Unlike us, as we left the theatre, happy to have seen such a good production.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Testing The Echo – February 2008

5/10

By David Edgar

Directed by Matthew Dunster

Company: Out of Joint

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Tuesday 26th February 2008

This is a new play, dealing with the experience of becoming a British citizen. In a number of short scenes, we follow the difficulties and successes of a varied group of people, some who are taking a language class and integrating their citizenship training within that, and some who are studying individually. We also get to know their reasons for wanting citizenship, although I realise I’m completely unsure of the motivation of one of the most important characters in the play, Nasrim. She’s the hijab-wearing Muslim woman who finds great difficulty in adapting to the British approach to life, objecting to even looking at a picture of a cooked breakfast as it contains pork. She eventually makes a complaint against the teacher of the class, Emma, and succeeds in driving her out of that school, and possibly out of teaching altogether

This was one of the good aspects of the production – it didn’t try to preach or moralise about the rights and wrongs of any situation, but did its best to let the characters tell their stories and leave the audience to take from it what they would. At the time, I felt that Nasrim was sincere in her beliefs, but without more information on her point of view, other than her holy book says this, or her culture says that, I’m left feeling that her character is ultimately the loser, as she remains ignorant of other possibilities for relating to people. I’m also in the dark as to why she wanted citizenship in the first place, and therefore it’s hard to assess her responses. If she wanted greater freedom and equality, then she needed to learn that other people are free too, free to choose what they want to do. It’s difficult to balance the operation of a tolerant society when there are those within it who are intolerant of those liberties – and that applies as much to our politicians as it does to immigrants or existing citizens. Still, it obviously got us thinking, and that’s no bad thing.

To help the audience understand the new citizenship test, there were lots of information snippets through the play, more at the beginning and less later on as the characters developed and their situations took over the play. I did find some of the info stuff a bit boring. It was more like a lesson than a play at times. There was a screen along the back of the acting area, and a couple of times they used this to demonstrate the difference between the original citizenship manual “Life in the UK – A Journey to Citizenship”, and the second edition, which had been “simplified”. I suspect the excerpts used were meant to make a point, but I just found them confusing, apart from a couple of comparisons in the second set, which did at least make a small joke. It wasn’t always clear how the second version had been changed from the first, and so the effort was wasted on me.

Apart from the screen, there was only the acting space, eight actors, lots of chairs and a couple of tables. The actors carried off numerous parts really well, and as their stories started to emerge, I began to enjoy the performance. At first it was dry and rather dull, but there were some interesting observations. The personal stories gave me more of an insight into some of the difficulties faced by immigrants who don’t know English particularly well, and whose cultures do nothing to prepare them for ours. One chap was constantly teased at work by his colleagues, who took his test book and kept asking him questions and poking fun at him. But they were silenced when he turned out to know a lot about football. And when one woman got her citizenship certificate, she was finally able to negotiate a better deal from her partner, who had been treating her more like property than a person. The fact that incomers to this country even have to be told that it’s an offence to be violent towards their partner is a shocking indictment of the treatment of women worldwide, and one reason why I still consider our culture more advantageous than some on the planet. We’re not perfect, but at least we seem to have learned some valuable lessons; I hope we don’t unlearn them in trying to treat all other cultures as equal to ours.

We also attended the post-show discussion, but although there were some interesting comments, I didn’t learn more about the production than I’d already seen. Sadly, I didn’t think to ask what the title meant, so I’ve no idea how that relates to the play. On the whole I enjoyed it, but there were dull moments.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard III – February 2008

10/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Friday 22nd February 2008

This could take some time. When we saw this play previously, just over a year ago, it was at the end of a long Saturday seeing three plays, having caught Henry VI part 1 the night before. I was tired, it took ages to catch up on my notes, and although I enjoyed it, I only gave it six stars. A year later, and with the cast having re-rehearsed all the plays only last month, it’s almost a different production. I’ll put in as much as I can of the staging, but first I have to say this was just about the best Richard III I’ve seen – it ranks up there with the ESC’s Wars of the Roses and Andrew Jarvis’s performance, and probably tops it in some areas.

To start, the lights go down, and I could see at least one character walk past us on the walkway for the opening. When the lights went up, there was Richard himself, standing roughly in the middle of the stage, as he was at the end of Henry VI Part 3, cradling what appears to be a baby in his arms. To our left, on the walkway, stands a boy, dressed in the white of the “good” characters, presumably the young Prince Edward. This is clarified when Richard indicates the young man as “this son of York”. It’s a nice touch, especially when the young lad comes over to his uncle, who puts his arm round him. Richard’s lines are spoken jocularly to the prince, and after “the lascivious pleasing of a lute”, the youngster runs off stage, and Richard can get down to the business of being a villain, which he does so well.

The cloth he had been holding at the start was bundled up to look like a baby, and right at the beginning he flicks it out, as if throwing the child away. He then tucks the extra large napkin into his collar, as if about to have a meal. While talking to the prince, he’s all smiles and charm and playfulness. Once the prince leaves, the darker side comes out, and there’s an element of temper in his railing about his deformities. Yet he’s also a thinker, and a layer of plots, as we soon see. Clarence arrives, and the ubiquitous Antony Bunsee as Keeper-of-all-things (in this case, Brakenbury) appears at the balcony to take Clarence into his keeping at the Tower. I should mention that this production is predominately modern dress, but the keeper character is wearing much the same red outfit as before, only with trousers. There are one or two other variations, but I’ll deal with them as I go.

Richard and Clarence mainly talk at the front of the stage, and Richard is loud enough to be easily overheard. He seems straightforward enough – concerned for his brother, and convinced the queen is behind Clarence’s arrest. Brakenbury’s intervention is delivered in an unemotional way, almost flat, but Richard gets as much humour as he can from the word play. Richard’s little asides after Clarence is taken off are starting to show the playfulness of Richard’s villainy, and after greeting Hastings on his release (and giving him a gun), he continues in this vein. The lines “What, though I kill’d her husband ….husband and her father” got a good laugh. One nice touch – when Hastings steps out of the Tower, he’s holding a clear plastic bag with his belongings.

Henry’s corpse arrives, carried on a stretcher by a couple of bearers, and with other men holding up Henry’s picture to the audience as they go. Ann appears (on the balcony, I think), and tells the men to set the body down so that she can deliver her speech to it. She makes the customary mistake of uttering some curses, and those of us familiar with the play know that she’ll be the one to suffer for it.

When Richard arrives, he has several armed men with him, and forces the bearers to put the body down. They withdraw pretty sharpish to the back of the stage, leaving Ann, down now from the balcony, to confront Richard. I don’t remember if these men leave now or later. She lifts the sheet off Henry’s face and chest, exposing the wounds, still bloody, and getting bloodier by the minute, as Richard’s presence makes them gush again.

The wooing scene was very good. Ann is obviously swayed by Richard’s flattery, for all the insults she hurls at him. Mind you, he does a good job, always putting her beauty at the centre of his argument. Even so, I noticed he had to do some rapid deflections of her attempts to stab him with his own knife, otherwise the play would have been over sooner than expected. She’s not completely won over at the end, but not far off, and I was thinking how a system of arranged marriages amongst the nobility probably makes this kind of thing more believable. After all, she probably didn’t really love her husband, the Lancastrian Prince Edward, and a lot of her grieving could just be a formal display of respect. In those circumstances, it might be easier to move on to another husband, although she has gone for the worst possible choice. Richard has his men take Henry’s body to a different place than Ann had planned – his men put the stretcher down, turn around, and pick it up facing the other way – and then we’re left alone with him to enjoy his reaction to his success. This was really good, and showed how much this portrayal has come on. Jonathan Slinger worked this speech much more with the audience, and brought out all the character’s thoughts and his own amazement at how well he’s done. He can appreciate how outrageous her conversion is, far more than the woman herself. Of course, he knows he’s lying, and she isn’t sure, but even so.

At the palace, the queen and her family are discussing the situation. The queen is troubled by Edward’s ill health, and despite their attempts to comfort her with thoughts of her son being Edward’s heir, she’s smart enough to realise the danger she’s in. Richard arrives, complaining about being slandered because he’s such a straightforward chap who “cannot flatter and speak fair”, which we’ve just seen him do, and do very well, with Ann. His bare-faced cheek, obvious to the audience, is very entertaining. He manages to get everyone in a tizzy, and provokes the queen to wish herself “ a country servantmaid” rather than put up with these attacks. The previous queen, Margaret, sneaks on to the balcony at this point – the rest are down below – and comments on the brawling.

Richard lets rip with all his resentments. He’s helped the king get his crown by fighting, risking his own life for his family, and now the queen and her family, supporters of Lancaster, are reaping the rewards. They respond in kind, though not with kindness, and eventually Margaret steps forward to have her say. Katy Stephens played this part magnificently. From her start in Henry VI part 1 as a drop-dead gorgeous starlet in a stunning red dress, through the battling queen in armour of the next two plays, to this greying woman, dressed all in black, and wearing a large bundle wrapped round her torso, she’s conveyed a tremendous emotional journey. OK, the woman’s another villain in a sense, killing just as happily as this Richard, but she’s always had the total conviction of her right to rule. It just so happens that in this culture she needs a king for a husband to be able to do that; nowadays she’d just sleep her way to the top of some big corporation, getting rid of her opponents on the way. Or perhaps she’d marry an aspiring politician? Anyway, it’s a great performance, and the emotional truth came across every second she was on stage.

For her cursing of those present, she drops her bundle, and lets the rotted skeleton of (I presume) her son Edward, fall out onto the stage. There’s a predictable reaction from the other characters – they step well back, and cover their noses. It’s an ugly sight, but shows Margaret’s craziness and obsession beautifully. She lays her shawl out on the ground, and as she curses, places another part of the skeleton in place. The ease with which she finds the relevant bones suggested to me that Margaret’s done this many times before, and that in itself is chilling.

She’s really rattled when Richard interrupts her final curse, but still manages to snap back at the others when they snipe at her – Richard’s intervention has given them back their confidence. When Buckingham comes over to her, trying to persuade her to shut up, she’s friendly, as she hasn’t been hurt by him or his family in the past. She kisses his hand, and as a friendly gesture, warns Buckingham to beware of Richard. He rebuffs her by responding, to Richard’s enquiry, that he doesn’t respect her. With no friends at all in the palace, she leaves, after a final prophesy that Buckingham will regret his choice. At least she stopped them bickering among themselves, but how long will that last?

Catesby enters to summon them all to the king, and all leave except Richard, who gives us a rundown of his technique for causing trouble. At the front of the stage, two men arrive, coming up the centre aisle. They’re in suits (brownish or grey?), and wearing glasses. They look like contract killers, and they turn out to be the two men whom Richard has hired to bump off Clarence. Their lack of compassion pleases Richard, and his “I like you, lads” was very funny. When one asks for the warrant they need in order to get at Clarence, Richard realises he’d forgotten it, and pulls a bit of paper out of his right hand pocket. As he walks forward to give it to them, he remembers it’s the wrong one, and gets the paper from his left pocket instead. We’ll understand the significance of that later.

As they leave, and the keeper brings on the bed and a stool for the prison cell, I realised that this play links thought and action very closely in time. Richard plans, and almost immediately he does. In other versions, I’ve been more aware of the long journey he needs to make to get the crown. Here it seems really quick, as the pace is so fast.

Clarence is in bed, asleep, with Brakenbury sitting on the stool beside him. Clarence makes some noises, then wakes up, drenched in sweat. He recounts his dream to Brakenbury, and as he does so, I found myself wondering if Will had come across a story of a near death experience and decided to dramatise it. What also comes across is that Clarence feels the weight of his sins lying heavily on him. He goes back to sleep, and now the two murderers turn up, looking menacing. Brakenbury clearly knows there’s something unpleasant about to happen, but there’s nothing he can do about it, so he takes himself off. The two murderers go through their preparations, and as usual, there are a lot of laughs to be had from their struggles with their consciences. The first murderer reminding the second of the money they’ll get for the murder soon sorts him out, and gets the expected laugh. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed the company of murderers and villains so much in a long time – this was the funniest version of this section that I’ve seen.

Unfortunately, they’ve taken so long chatting that Clarence wakes up, and does his best to talk them out of killing him. It doesn’t work, of course, although it does slow them down, but finally the first murderer slashes him in the stomach, and dumps him on the bed, which by now has been thrust to the back of the stage. Clarence lies there, clutching his stomach and struggling to stay alive, while the second murderer tenders his resignation, leaving the first murderer to wheel the body off.

Back at the palace, Edward appears on the balcony, drip in arm, with an attendant holding what looked like a flask. The rest of the nobility, except Richard, are below, and carry out a series of reconciliations that a blind person would have seen as hollow and false. Still, they satisfy the king, at least until Richard arrives. He naturally outdoes everyone else in desiring to be reconciled to everyone present. He goes to each noble in turn, and when he gets to the Marquis of Dorset, he gives him all three of his titles, adding “Lord Woodville, and Lord Scales” which got a good laugh. All seems well, until the queen, thinking to take advantage of the good nature on show, asks the king to release Clarence. Richard immediately flares up into a temper, and in the process tells everyone that Clarence is dead. The king is appalled, and this is where the second bit of paper is relevant. In explaining that the countermand to the first order came too late, Richard pulls the paper out of his pocket and says “some tardy cripple bore the countermand”, doing a bit of limping and jokingly hitting himself on the head, as if to say, silly me! With nerves and emotions at breaking point, Stanley enters to plead for the life of one of his servants. Edward has a moving rant about how no one pleaded for Clarence, and yet everyone expects the king to grant their suits for this and that. It would, of course, be more moving if Edward hadn’t sent Clarence to the Tower in the first place, nor sent that first order to have him killed, but he’s ill, and upset, so I can certainly sympathise. He grants Stanley’s request, and staggers off, followed by the queen and all except Richard and Buckingham, who eventually leave after Richard’s put the blame on the queen for Clarence’s death.

Now I know Richard, Duke of York (Richard III’s father) was without a title for a while, so he’d probably fallen on hard times, but I did think it a bit much that his widow is still charring at her age. Maureen Beattie, as the Duchess of York, mother to the current king (the female parts in this play can get very confusing), comes onto stage carrying a bucket, and proceeds to mop a patch of floor to our right. Above her, on the balcony, stand two children, a son and daughter of Clarence. It’s a slightly confusing scene, and one that’s often cut, I suspect, as I don’t recall it from previous productions. Basically the Duchess is telling the children that their father isn’t dead (porky) and that she’s grieving for her son, Edward, being so ill. They know full well their father’s dead, and have been told by Richard that the queen arranged it. The Duchess is appalled at this deceit, and yet the children still believe it.

The queen now enters, with a couple of her family, to tell us all that the king is dead. The women go into the competitive mourning that’s so typical of the histories, and a few of the other plays. The queen has had her losses, but the Duchess contends that at least she has her sons left to comfort her. The Duchess is left with only one son, Richard, and she doesn’t see much prospect of him filling her heart with gladness any time soon. The men try to chip in with practical advice (have they learned nothing about handling an emotional woman?) and just then Richard and the rest of the court arrive to organise bringing the new king to London. As they head off past us to arrange who will go to accompany the prince, Richard and Buckingham are at the rear, and before leaving, Buckingham, standing behind Richard, advises him to make sure they’re both in the escort. He promises to deal with the queen’s relatives, and Richard is almost ecstatic at having such a co-conspirator.

The next scene simply concerns a group of citizens in the text; here Michael Boyd has taken advantage of the existing characters to the full. One of the citizens is the second murderer, looking like he’s leaving the country and doesn’t want to be noticed. Another is an attractive woman, while the third is Catesby, looking menacing in his black suit, sunglasses and carrying a coffee. Another man in black is there, adding to the menace – I don’t remember now if that was the first murderer or someone else, although the first murderer does come on as one of Richard’s enforcers later. There’s a general air of menace in this scene, suggesting the police state is developing nicely. Nicely for Richard, that is. It’s clear that speaking one’s mind is not going to be welcome or indeed advisable from now on.

After they leave, we head back to the palace, where the queen is waiting for news of her son’s arrival from Ludlow. Her other son, the young Duke of York, is with her, and when she comments on how he’s growing so fast he’ll have outgrown his older brother, he cheekily passes on Richard’s comment that “Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.” The Duchess disputes that, given Richard’s own life, and the boy blabs about Richard being born with teeth. It’s a nice little scene, introducing us to the young Duke, and giving us some more information about Richard that we’ll need to know later. I don’t know which of the young actors was playing the young Duke tonight, but he did a very good job. A messenger brings them the news that Rivers and Grey have been taken to Pomfret, and the queen takes her son with her to claim sanctuary.

The prince arrives on stage with Buckingham, and then his uncle, Richard, arrives, laden with presents – several boxes and a space hopper – which he has to put down before greeting him properly. There’s the usual concern over getting the prince’s brother out of sanctuary, and Buckingham is oily enough to fire a power station in explaining away the difficulties. While they wait, the prince is full of wise snippets and ideas, and Richard has some funny asides – “So wise so young, they say, do never live long”. Young York arrives, and after greeting his brother, turns to a battle of words with Richard, who is now sitting on the space hopper. It’s more barbed than I remember from previous productions, and it’s clear that Richard is getting the worst of it, though that’s partly because he’s keeping up the façade of being a kindly uncle. Buckingham smoothes things over with his evil charm, and the princes head off to the Tower. Richard and Buckingham then discuss with Catesby whether Hastings can be persuaded to join in a plot to put Richard on the throne. Catesby reckons he won’t hear of it, and Lord Stanley will follow whichever line Hastings takes. They send him off to test this out, and then consider briefly what to do if Hastings isn’t willing to join in. Richard’s “Chop off his head” was said so swiftly, it got a laugh. He also promises Buckingham the earldom of Hereford once he, Richard, becomes king.

A messenger rouses Hastings at his home, and he comes on stage, dressing. He’s obviously spent an enjoyable night, as his companion is the attractive lady we saw in an earlier scene, and whom we later find out is Mistress Shore. She’s dressed in just a shirt and a pair of shoes, showing off her long legs to good advantage, and helps Hastings to dress in a very affectionate way. It may even have distracted me from the lines a little, but I got the gist – Hastings is being warned to stay away from the court, as Stanley has had a dream that the boar (Richard) will kill him. Hastings is confident that he’s in no danger, and tells Stanley’s messenger so. Then Catesby arrives, coffee in hand, and broaches the subject of making Richard king. Hastings is clearly against the idea, but is glad to hear that the queen’s kin are to die at Pomfret. Catesby keeps making comments that could be taken as warnings – “’Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepar’d and look not for it.” – but Hastings is a perfect example of pride heading for a fall. Stanley turns up, and reinforces his earlier concern, pointing out that the Lords at Pomfret probably felt secure until they were condemned, but Hastings still refuses to see the obvious. Another couple of people turn up, including Buckingham, and then they’re off to the Tower.

Just to show us some actual deaths – the Elizabethans liked their violence, remember, and so far only Clarence has been killed on stage – we get to see Rivers, Grey and another chap getting killed at Pomfret. They’re brought on blindfolded and tied up, and get a few minutes to stand there, giving us their last words. Naturally, they’re pretty unhappy with the situation, and then they’re shot. They did this very well, with something approaching the right recoil from the impact of the bullets. All three then get up and head off for the underworld.

Now the stage is set up for the council meeting. Clear plastic chairs are brought on, and a group of officials are present, including Hastings, Stanley, Buckingham and the Bishop of Ely. They start discussing when to have the coronation, and Buckingham disingenuously asks if anyone knows what Richard, now Lord Protector, thinks. He’s quick to disclaim knowing Richard intimately (porkies, again), and sets up Hastings as the expert on Richard’s inner thoughts. Hastings, the fool, takes the bait, and is about to speak on behalf of Richard when the man himself turns up.

At first, Richard seems happy with the situation, and commends Hastings. He asks the bishop to send for some of the strawberries that he saw growing in his garden, and then waits, pointedly looking at the bishop, until he leaves to send for them. Richard then takes Buckingham to one side for a quiet chat, leaving the rest to talk amongst themselves, which they do. They resume the discussion about the coronation date, and Hastings comments on how cheerful Richard looks, expressing the view that Richard is the least deceitful man he knows. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and Shakespeare builds this guy up to be the biggest chump ever.

When Richard re-appears, he’s in a temper, and he’s accompanied by some of the men in suits, and also Mistress Shore. Hastings presumably realises he’s in trouble now, but still speaks up, and Richard commands that Hastings’ head be cut off. Richard then leaves, telling the rest to come along if they love him, and leaving them in no doubt what will happen if they don’t. Stanley takes the longest time to go, looking pleadingly at Hastings, who acknowledges that he has no other choice. Richard’s henchmen take Hastings away, after he gets to say some last bitter words, and then the stage is set up for the scene where Richard persuades the Mayor of London that Hastings’ death was necessary.

Now last time, the setup was different, and I remember Richard and Buckingham taking cover behind a table, presumably the one that had been on stage for the meeting. This time, while the chairs are being removed, Catesby brings on a car door and dumps it on the stage to our right. He also brings on some tyres and other debris, while Richard and Buckingham reappear in battle gear, doing themselves up with camouflage makeup, and we hear the instructions for the special effects clearly over the speakers. It’s quite a production – no wonder the Mayor looks terrified when he shows up. There’s explosions, the sound of a helicopter, and gunfire. There may also have been armed men descending on ropes; it’s happened so much in these productions I may be remembering another occasion. When Hastings’ head is brought on, in a plastic bag, they explain his treachery, and the Mayor is only too happy to speak as if he’d heard the confession directly from Hastings himself. As the Mayor leaves to spread the word, and one of Richard’s men is putting police tape round the stage (the audience are holding it in place), Richard instructs Buckingham to put out a lot of spin discrediting King Edward and his children, even going as far as to imply Edward himself was a bastard. Buckingham heads off to do this, and Richard lays some more plans, and then he’s off. I thought this would be the interval, but no. Geoffrey Freshwater, as the scrivener, comes on with a huge bundle of papers, both newspapers and white sheets. He spells out the length of time it’s taken him to write the indictment of Hastings, and yet Hastings’ crime was apparently only discovered hours after he’d started writing. He dumps the papers on the ground in disgust – he obviously recognises there were no WMD. And then, the interval.

Richard is clearly keen to know how the general population took Buckingham’s stories, and fortunately, there’s a large chunk of the general population on hand, sitting comfortably around him, to refer to during this scene. We were indeed mute, apart from the occasional laugh, and it’s not surprising. Buckingham describes the speech he gave, and there’s a good bit of humour when he refers to Richard’s lineaments being more like his father’s than Edward’s were. With the Mayor about to turn up, Buckingham preps Richard for his next scene, telling him not to accept the crown too easily, and the trap is set.

In front of the Mayor and us, the assembled throng, Buckingham and Richard perform their little play. At first, Catesby comes out to say that Richard isn’t available – he’s meditating. When Catesby goes back to re-invite Richard to come out, Buckingham uses the time to spin to the crowd what a noble character Richard has, compared to the previous king. Again Catesby enters to say that Richard fears why such a huge number of people have come to speak to him. Then Catesby’s given another message and sent back, and this time Richard appears on the balcony, with the Bishop of Ely and another churchman beside him.

This next bit is a great piece of theatre, and this production does it very well. It’s hugely enjoyable to sit back and watch two masters of deception spin their web. If I didn’t know better, I might have believed them myself, but as it is it’s good fun to listen to some fairly long speeches which we know to be completely false. Richard’s expressions of humility, and protests that he isn’t fit to be king, and that there are two other princes who come before him, were beautifully done. When Buckingham leaves, he gets a fair distance away before Richard can get him back, and then Richard reluctantly accepts the crown. When Buckingham says “Then I salute you with this royal title: Long live King Richard, England’s worthy king!” we, the audience, are encouraged to join in with the second part, which I happily did. We obviously created enough noise, as Buckingham gave us the thumbs-up afterwards.

Now the queen, the Duchess and various family members, those that are still alive, meet up at the tower. Brakenbury tells them that they can’t see the princes, and lets slip that it’s on the king’s orders. He amends it to the Lord Protector, but the seeds of doubt are sown, only to be confirmed a few moments later, when Stanley arrives to instruct Ann to go to Westminster, to be crowned Richard’s queen. The ex-queen advises the Marquis of Dorset to flee to Richmond (that’s the character, not the place), and Stanley supports this, adding that he will give him letters to take to his, Stanley’s, son. The women do a bit more grieving, and Ann recognises she’s the victim of her own curse.

The coronation was a significant piece of staging. Before a single line has been spoken, the court assembles, and Richard walks down the aisle to the front of the stage, dressed in a golden robe, highly reminiscent of the first entrance of Richard II. Ann is wearing what appears to be virtually the same costume she wore as Richard II’s wife, and as these are the only old-fashioned clothes, they really stand out. In fact, it was at this point that I realised that the same actress was playing both Richards’ wives. The cross-casting may take some time to figure out, but it’s worth it in the end.

As Richard stands at the front of the stage, the doors open, and backlit figures emerge. They’re the ghosts that Richard has killed or in some way upset – Henry VI, Warwick, Clarence, and I think Edward. No one else seems to notice them, but Richard gets a bad case of the jitters. The ghosts confront him and then leave, and then the steps from Richard II are wheeled on at the back. Above them on the balcony stands daddy – the original Duke of York – holding the crown. Richard practically gallops up those steps to receive his prize, and then he and the steps are wheeled forward to the centre of the stage for the scene proper to start.

While Richard and Buckingham talk, the others are walking around the stage, taking drinks from trays, silently. Richard is definitely pumped up, and finds Buckingham relaxed, and ready to enjoy the glories he and Richard have won at a leisurely pace. He’s not keen on killing the princes, and goes off to consider his options. But Richard can’t wait, and Catesby (I think) provides a suitable candidate, Tyrell. News comes that the Marquis of Dorset has fled to Richmond, and suddenly Richard instructs Catesby to spread the word that Ann, the new-crowned queen, is sick and will probably die. Tired of her already. Actually, Richard knows he needs to consolidate his position, and intends to marry his brother’s daughter, i.e. his niece, to make his claim secure. I found myself wondering about the relative ages and how much time had elapsed between plays, but I couldn’t manage that when so much was happening on stage.

Tyrell arrives, and agrees to kill the princes without any noticeable hesitation. Off he goes, and Buckingham returns, ready at last to discuss the princes, only for Richard to fob him off. He fobs him off from his reward as well. As Buckingham asks for those things Richard promised him several scenes ago, Richard muses on the prophesy that Richmond would be king, uttered by Henry VI himself. There’s a number of lines cut in this production, so no references to clocks, but Richard is still pretty snappy with Buckingham, who realises he’s somehow fallen out of favour, and decides to make a run for it.

With everyone off the stage, Tyrell comes back on, and reports to us the story of the killing of the two princes, as told to him by the actual murderers. When Richard comes on, eating, Tyrell gives him the news, and answers his questions in full, giving him a digital camera so he can see the pictures taken of the dead princes. After Tyrell leaves, Richard informs us that Ann is dead, and when news comes that Buckingham  has raised an army, Richard has to rush to prepare for a fight.

Margaret reappears, happy to see how her enemies are going to rack and ruin, and many to an early death. She backs off to the shadows when the ex-queen and the Duchess come along to have a communal moaning session. Margaret joins in, giving them a lesson in how to do obsessive grieving, and for once this scene wasn’t too boring. I suspect lines were cut, but it all came across pretty clearly, and didn’t go on too long. After Margaret leaves, Richard arrives with his troops, though we don’t see them. The Duchess and the ex-queen start to have a go at him, but he tells the musicians to start playing, and they’re nearly drowned out. Richard just stands there, bouncing along to the music. He stops it briefly when his mother seems to have run out of steam, but then she starts up again, and so does the music. It’s a great compliment to Maureen Beattie’s vocal powers that I could still hear her, just, over the loud music. Eventually he heads off stage, but she has one last word. Well, lots of words, actually, because she tells him this will be the last time she speaks to him. He listens to her curse him, and then she leaves, so that only Richard and the ex-queen are left on stage.

Now Richard has to woo another woman he’s wronged, but this time he’s wooing the queen so he can marry her daughter. She gives back as good as she gets, and it’s a long scene, cut of course, but still lengthy. This time, she’s not persuaded by any of Richard’s arguments about the good he intends to do for her family, but she does see the political necessity, and agrees to talk with her daughter. Catesby and Ratcliff turn up with news that Richmond himself is now invading, and Richard sends them on various errands. At first, he gets angry with Catesby for not going as soon as he tells him to go, and I think he hits him, but as Catesby points out, Richard hasn’t yet given him the message he’s to deliver, and Richard relents, patting him on the head.

It all gets a bit frantic now, with lots of messengers flying to and fro, and both sides striding on and off the stage in rapid succession. There’s a battle to fight, they can’t hang about! Richard gets even more stroppy, hitting people who bring him bad news, except that sometimes it’s good news, and he has to give them some money to make up for it. Buckingham is captured, and executed, after the usual comments about how it was all prophesied, and Stanley gets word to Richmond that he can’t be too obviously on his side, as Richard holds his son as hostage.

Both sides arrive near Bosworth, and prepare for battle the next day. Richmond speaks with Stanley, and then settles down to sleep for a while. He’s at the front of the stage, and before lying down, kneels with his sword like a cross in front of him. He prays, and I was reminded of Henry V praying, possibly in exactly the same position, before the battle of Agincourt. He lies down to sleep, and then the doors open, and we see Richard lying, asleep, at the back. He’s only wearing his top and knickers, so his legs are bare. He wakes suddenly, and gets up, and all his blemishes are gone. He can walk straight, he has no hump, his arm is fine, and his Gorbachev has disappeared. He’s ecstatic, but sadly, it’s only a dream. As the ghosts appear, starting with his wife, Ann, they give him back his deformities. She holds his arm, and then it’s shrivelled again. Another, possibly Rivers, shoots him in the leg, and he’s hobbling. Hastings (or possibly Buckingham) slapped the birthmark back on his head, and Edward (the king as was) takes a picture. This time, the ghost of the Duke of York is on the balcony with his two murdered sons, and he’s not a happy bunny. The ghosts on stage all stop to give Richmond their support, then they clear off, and Richard is left to consider his position. It’s not good, morally speaking, and finally he seems to recognise that. He’s not in a good frame of mind for the battle, but the show must go on, and he leaves with Ratcliff, determined to find out if any of his supporters are disloyal.

Richmond, on the other hand, has had a very good night’s sleep, and gives a pretty good speech to his men. Again, it recalls some of Henry V’s words, especially when he claims that he won’t be ransomed. Richard’s speech to his men must have been cut, or else my memory’s much worse than I thought. It certainly has its problems, as I don’t remember the details of the fighting. In fact I think it was pretty sparse, as all that’s needed is for Richard to get killed, which Richmond does pretty quickly, and then we have his final speech. During this, he brings to a close the Wars of the Roses, and when he mentions the son killing the father, and the father the son, he exchanges looks with Stanley, as these two have represented father and son throughout the cycle – Percy and Hotspur, Talbot and John Talbot, Father who kills his son and Son who kills his father. It was a moving moment, to have these two characters suggest the echoes of their previous incarnations, and it’s a lovely end to a great performance.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me