Richard II
Sceptre Theatre
Until Friday, 27
August
Reviewer: Max Rashbrooke
If Richard II were a person, it’d be an older brother too often upstaged by its showy younger sibling, Richard III. But Sceptre Theatre’s production proves that there’s as much – if not more – matter in the older work.
The play revolves around the combat between King Richard and his upstart cousin Henry Bolingbroke, who returns from banishment to vie for the throne. For that reason the play’s success hinges on the performances of the two leads, Hayden Frost and Maggie White. And both have their strengths. Frost in particular has a beautiful control over the language, making Shakespeare’s lines seem as natural and unforced as today’s speech.
But I didn’t feel that he established a clear enough picture, initially, of what kind of person – and king – Richard was meant to be. Is he weak, petulant, actively malicious? Frost seems to try out several interpretations without settling on one.
That’s not to say that the character has or should have only one note, just that some greater clarity and strength felt wanting in the characterisation. After losing his grip on the crown, Richard undergoes a quite extraordinary mental disintegration – and while there was some lovely acting in those passages, they would have been all the more affecting if they had sat in greater contrast with a more clearly articulated king.
For her part, White gives us a stronger character arc, creating a convincing shift for Henry from hesitant young challenger to cold, ruthless usurper. Gesture and expression were well-matched in a character who has an immense physical presence.
What was lacking, for me, was greater strength in the language: White’s voice didn’t carry with the command or authority the role seems to ask for, or the depth and sonority that gives Shakespeare’s lines their full beauty. There was a striking contrast, in the opening scenes, with Andrew Goddard as Duke of Norfolk, who acted and spoke with such intensity that he almost seemed on a different plane from the two leads.
As a whole, the play is a stunning experience, combining the most dramatic of narratives with some of the loveliest lines that Shakespeare penned, especially when it comes to describing his native land. I was particularly struck by John of Gaunt’s ‘sceptred isle’ speech, and the moment when Richard, returned from fighting overseas, kneels in the sand of the beach and professes his love for England.
These were moments that, post-Brexit, had special resonance – as indeed does the play’s depiction of England as a unique island ringed by jealous rivals. All the usual hatreds are present: anything coming from France is suspicious, the Irish need to be violently suppressed, and the Welsh are a bit useless and run away at the first opportunity.
But
there is also a great sense of connection to the English
landscape, and a feeling of special destiny that helps
explain why the English so often seem to want to make their
country a fortress. And who can say but that David Cameron,
so recently deposed, may now be undergoing the same
spiritual unravelling as Richard, his identity as a ruler
having been so suddenly stripped away? Psychologically and
politically, Richard II couldn’t be more relevant – and
so we should all be thankful to Sceptre Theatre for bringing
it to our attention once
more.