Mike Bartlett’s King Charles III (2014) is an interesting play that takes its narrative style from blank verse and its character study from the glossy women’s magazines. The blank verse is more successful than the characterisation.
Like Shaw’s the Apple Cart (1928 – premiered in Polish!), this play looks at the role of monarchy in a democratic age, or more correctly post democratic, demotic age. The central premise is a clash between Parliament and the Palace over the parliament’s desire to control the excesses of the popular press (the Murdoch’s so to speak). It invokes the hard edge of constitutional monarchy, as when ‘to advise’ is taken one step further as resistance to a government’s stated course of action. The play then pits older Royals (Charles) against his sons (William and Harry) as the country tumbles into anarchy - very Shakespearean in intent and good fun in spotting the caricature, but not always believable.
Charles, the King, is given some degree of complexity by the veteran Robert Powell, but his schools boy excesses stretch the boundaries of plausibility. The small role of Camilla is invested with a degree of gravitas by Carolyn Pickles. When she slaps the face of the treacherous William, a few cheers went up in the audience.
The side play of young Harry (Richard Glaves) and his radical lover, Jess (Lucy Phelps), is amusing but a little contorted, like the vowels of Glaves. The scene in the Abbey where Harry betrays his lovers and stands firm with his brothers’ orthodoxy, strains for some of the pathos of Shakespeare’s Harry and Falstaff, but the young people have limited memories and complexity to draw on.
The Prime Minister, Mr Evans, caught in the middle of the constitutional crisis, is nicely realised by Tim Trelaor, as a Labour leader grappling with his determination to uphold the supremacy of Parliament, after avenues of negotiation have led to stalemate. Less effective is Giles Taylor as the oleaginous Opposition Leader, Mr Stevens. His high Tory lacks the dark spark of duplicity that his role invites.
William, the Duke of Cambridge (Ben Righton), is almost too soft to be a true Shakespearean character, but does effect his betrayal of his father with brutal swiftness, urged on by his Kate (Jennifer Bryden) who shows a darker sense of ambition. They make an attractive couple, he more loose limbed in his woollen jumpers, she edgy in her tailored clothes, but even here, the hint of the Macbeths was a somewhat mellow aftertaste.
A couple of the set pieces were energising – both the finales to the first and second parts were highly charged. One had a King proroguing Parliament as an act of unilateral power, while the final tableau showed a deposed King crowning a new King and wishing the victor to be careful for what he has wished, with regard the hollowed out crown.
The poesy of the work is well woven, the characters recognisable, but not always believable. The single set was very effective. There was much droll humour at play, but the temperature was relatively low fuse. It may ape Shakespearean blank verse, but the fire in the belly is fitful when its come to memorable characters and white-hot encounters. Its Women’s Weekly gentility sees to that.
Sydney Theatre Company (STC) and Almeida Theatre (London) – Roslyn Packer Theatre – April 26, 2016
Mike Bartlett’s King Charles III (2014) is an interesting play that takes its narrative style from blank verse and its character study from the glossy women’s magazines. The blank verse is more successful than the characterisation.
Like Shaw’s the Apple Cart (1928 – premiered in Polish!), this play looks at the role of monarchy in a democratic age, or more correctly post democratic, demotic age. The central premise is a clash between Parliament and the Palace over the parliament’s desire to control the excesses of the popular press (the Murdoch’s so to speak). It invokes the hard edge of constitutional monarchy, as when ‘to advise’ is taken one step further as resistance to a government’s stated course of action. The play then pits older Royals (Charles) against his sons (William and Harry) as the country tumbles into anarchy - very Shakespearean in intent and good fun in spotting the caricature, but not always believable.
Charles, the King, is given some degree of complexity by the veteran Robert Powell, but his schools boy excesses stretch the boundaries of plausibility. The small role of Camilla is invested with a degree of gravitas by Carolyn Pickles. When she slaps the face of the treacherous William, a few cheers went up in the audience.
The side play of young Harry (Richard Glaves) and his radical lover, Jess (Lucy Phelps), is amusing but a little contorted, like the vowels of Glaves. The scene in the Abbey where Harry betrays his lovers and stands firm with his brothers’ orthodoxy, strains for some of the pathos of Shakespeare’s Harry and Falstaff, but the young people have limited memories and complexity to draw on.
The Prime Minister, Mr Evans, caught in the middle of the constitutional crisis, is nicely realised by Tim Trelaor, as a Labour leader grappling with his determination to uphold the supremacy of Parliament, after avenues of negotiation have led to stalemate. Less effective is Giles Taylor as the oleaginous Opposition Leader, Mr Stevens. His high Tory lacks the dark spark of duplicity that his role invites.
William, the Duke of Cambridge (Ben Righton), is almost too soft to be a true Shakespearean character, but does effect his betrayal of his father with brutal swiftness, urged on by his Kate (Jennifer Bryden) who shows a darker sense of ambition. They make an attractive couple, he more loose limbed in his woollen jumpers, she edgy in her tailored clothes, but even here, the hint of the Macbeths was a somewhat mellow aftertaste.
A couple of the set pieces were energising – both the finales to the first and second parts were highly charged. One had a King proroguing Parliament as an act of unilateral power, while the final tableau showed a deposed King crowning a new King and wishing the victor to be careful for what he has wished, with regard the hollowed out crown.
The poesy of the work is well woven, the characters recognisable, but not always believable. The single set was very effective. There was much droll humour at play, but the temperature was relatively low fuse. It may ape Shakespearean blank verse, but the fire in the belly is fitful when its come to memorable characters and white-hot encounters. Its Women’s Weekly gentility sees to that.
Sydney Theatre Company (STC) and Almeida Theatre (London) – Roslyn Packer Theatre – April 26, 2016