THEATRE
Richard, My Richard
Shakespeare North Playhouse, Prescot
By Mark Brown
Philippa Gregory is long established as one of the UK’s most popular historical novelists. The author of such bestsellers as The Other Boleyn Girl and The White Queen, she has now, in Richard, My Richard, turned her attention to the stage for the first time.
The popular imagination of Richard III – whose remains were, famously, reburied at Leicester Cathedral in 2015, having been discovered under a car park in the city – is, thanks to William Shakespeare, that of a blood-soaked, hunchbacked villain. Gregory paints a more complex picture of the last Plantagenet king.
Moreover – as one would expect of an author who has often tried to restore agency to the women of England’s royal history – the play seeks to bring centre stage important female players in Richard’s story. These include his ill-fated wife Anne Neville and Elizabeth Woodville (the queen of Richard’s predecessor, his brother King Edward IV).
Gregory’s claims to historical accuracy have led to criticism by historians in the past. With this play – whilst her voluminous research into The Wars of the Roses has been brought very substantially to the table – the veracity of the historical record itself is under scrutiny.
So much so, in fact, that History is a (male, academic and occasionally misogynistic) character in its own right (and one played with passion and increasing uncertainty by Tom Kanji).
However, Gregory’s characterisation of History creates something of a structural problem for the play. One can’t help but feel that, in tackling so many figures and events in a play that runs to two hours and 15 minutes (including interval), she might have bitten off a little more than she can chew.
In Act One she seeks to represent the full complexities of the various rivalries and alliances (nuances that get lost in Shakespeare’s portrayal of Richard as a devious, bloody uber-villain). However, as History interrupts and intervenes, the play fails to achieve the necessary sense of pace and rhythm (a weakness that is less pronounced in Act Two, which is less reliant on Kanji’s character and, therefore, more theatrically inclined). Too often, the dialogue of the historical characters serves, not to drive the narrative forward, but to offer historical context.
There are some fine performances: not least from Jennifer Matter as a powerfully resentful Queen Elizabeth and Laura Smithers as the ambitious and religious Lady Margaret Beaufort (mother of the first Tudor king, Henry VII). However, Kyle Rowe’s Richard (although, mercifully, freed from the distastefully demonic hunched back) rarely rises above a two-dimensional image of alpha-male malevolence. This might reflect shortcomings on the part of director Katie Posner or limitations in Rowe’s acting (or, indeed, both).
The production enjoys some atmospheric music and occasional flashes of (often feministic) humour. However, particularly in its uncomfortably uneven first half, it succumbs to the tensions between representing history and creating theatrical drama.
At Shakespeare North Playhouse, Prescot until March 30; tickets: 0151 433 7156, shakespearenorthplayhouse.co.uk. Then at Theatre Royal, Bury St Edmunds, April 11-27.
A slightly edited version of this review was first published on the website of the Daily Telegraph on March 13, 2024
© Mark Brown
Scottish Stage 