Wednesday, December 19, 2012

To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown


On December 10th, we all got together for a read-through of Richard II. And now that my semester is over, I’m turning my attention to trying to understand this play. It’s my opinion that a common trap in working on a play is getting caught up in details that are really beside the point. Forcing the action into a setting, trying to replicate some staging conditions – things that have little to do with the one thing which we can actually be pretty certain of – the text. That’s why I started Poor Shadows in the first place. I want everything to grow out of, and be supported by the text. Not that we’ll never do a conceptual piece, mind you – I think that will definitely happen, and I have a few things in mind – but those ideas are based on bringing out elements in the text.

Anyway, back to Richard II. Apparently, Sam Taylor Coleridge took a look at this play a long time ago and decided that Richard had certain bad qualities that led to his downfall, and that all of those qualities were “feminine.” It seems that this idea has been basically unchallenged ever since. So, when you see a production of this play, very often what you get is a hyper-feminine Richard. Ben Whishaw in the Hollow Crown is an example, but Derek Jacobi’s was just as twee. Fiona Shaw even played the role. I think this feminine Richard concept is a trap. And it seems inconsistent with the relationship between Richard and his queen. I believe she has genuine affection and respect for him. This is not the same relationship that Edward II and Isabella have. Despite Bolingbroke’s suggestion that Bushy and Green have “made a divorce” between the king and queen – which I think is a lie anyway, based on his irregular verse in the speech, she seems to think he is a model king, and even compares him to a lion.

What is this play really about? I think it’s summed up in this one line from III.ii: “To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown.” This is a play about shrewd steel, or realpolitik, finally challenging the golden crown, the divine right of kings. It is a play about the transition from the medieval to the modern; from the poet king, whose court contained Chaucer, Gower, Clanvowe, and others, to Henry IV, a no-nonsense king who has no poetry in him. Focusing on the old (and not particularly textual) Richard-is-a-woman trope turns the attention away from the real point of the play, in my opinion.

Now, all that being said… this is just my interpretation, and Aaron and Christina will each have their own. I think it would be interesting if one of our Richards in this production played the role in a traditional way, while the other production focused on the medieval-modern switch. Then we could really see how differently the play works on the stage with the two interpretations. But so far, Aaron and I have avoided making strategic choices like that (Aaron called that sort of approach “collusion,” which I think is pretty apt). It will be interesting to see how it develops in rehearsal.

5 comments:

  1. The most interesting characters on stage are those founded in your own truth, not in truth found by other actors. I love that you are up for the challenge of playing a character differently than it usually is portrayed. And, not in an attempt to be different, but because you feel that the choice is textually supported and feels right for you.

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  2. I'm reminded of what Anthony Sher said about playing Iago as having homosexual lust for Othello. He felt that this approach was borne from the old trope of associating homosexuality with evil: "Hollywood did this for awhile: the bad guy was always some twisted faggot. Now it's changed: the bad guy is just played by a British actor."

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  3. First of all, this sentence is music to a dramaturg's ear: "I want everything to grow out of, and be supported by the text." ::cheers and applause::

    Next, I agree that the play is about the transition from medievaliy to modernity, and that the central question in the play concerns divine right vs. realpolitik.

    On the other hand, the following seems to me a clear echo of Edward II:

    You have in manner with your sinful hours
    Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,
    Broke the possession of a royal bed
    And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
    With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.

    Of course you're right, that is only Bullingbrook's word, but it is interesting that Shakespeare put it in there. I really think he is deliberately alluding to Edward II (as he clearly alludes to Faustus elsewhere in the play).

    However, I completely agree that the "feminized Richard" is way too stale a reading to base a whole play (or even a whole character) around. And I don't think it was the main point to the play in Shakespeare's day. The issue of who would be Elizabeth's successor involved both divine right (the successor had to be royal blood) and realpolitik (the successor should be someone competent and someone whom the nobles and the populace would accept). Shakespeare almost certainly had those issues in mind when he wrote the play. Whatever sex or gender issues are part of Richard's character are there to influence our perception of his fitness to be king. For example, if Richard had fathered children (which at that time would have made him seem more masculine), Bullingbrook might not have found so much support for his rebellion.

    I will refrain from pointing out that the line you quote as the summary of your political reading could, by some nasty Freudian, be interpreted just as easily as supporting a sexualized reading. I would not want to start anyone thinking about that. Don't try to figure out how "lift[ing] shrewd steel" in the direction of a "golden crown" could be read sexually. Just don't.

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  4. I agree about the echoing of Edward II. But I think in the context of that speech, the way it comes from nowhere and isn't really supported elsewhere, coupled with Bolingbroke's choppy verse in that speech, it just seems like a lie.

    I'm not saying a feminine Richard is precluded by the text, or that an actor is wrong if they see it there. But I don't think that the fact it *could* be read that way means that it *must* be read that way. I usually think the most likely explanation is the best one. I think an immature boy king is the most likely explanation, given how little support I see for the lady Richard in the text. And, of course, I may completely change my mind about all of this as the process goes on. Exploring possibilities in the text and finding new things is actually what I love the most about theatre.

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