The Bridge Theater is within walking distance of the Tower of London, and in 1399 King Richard II was imprisoned and abdicated the throne of England in support of his cousin who became Henry IV. Where is it better to stage a new production of William Shakespeare's play about Richard's downfall? From the Playhouse Foyer, theatre audience can see the towers across from the Thames, and those 600 years of distances do not close anything.
In this modern dress from “Richard II,” directed by Nicholas Hytner and running until May 10th, the unfortunate king will be played by British actor Jonathan Bailey. Anthony Bridgeton of “Wicked” and “Bridgeton” – and now he takes on his biggest stage role ever.
Bailey gives him a crazy performance as Richard. Richard generally supports the robber Henry Bolingbroke (Lois Pierreson), a corrupt and false conflict despite the medieval doctrine that the monarch is anointed by God and therefore unruly. Masu. After a series of strategic failures, Richard is decisively defeated by the rebels of the bowlingbroke and meets a swift and brutal end mise.
The historical account, in a clever rendering of Richard's Efeminacy and Bailey, he stated that he is a whimsical, flicky sociopath, where all his remarks are filled with the irony of the performance. He declares in mock majesty that he has no choice but to raise taxes, and willingly help himself to the cocaine line. After his uncle's death, he jumps on a recently empty hospital bed and scoffs the grapes firmly. When Richard finally agrees to hand over the power, he introduces the crown and retracts it twice – like a stinky child refusing to let go of the toy. All this badness is so much fun to watch.
In contrast, Pierreson's bowling broke has an abstract atmosphere of a man driven by greater power than himself. His huge frames, ball-up fists and dull vocal delivery make him an impressive counterpoint against the charming Richard. (After one of the King's more glamorous speeches, the bewildered bowlingbroke panics at one of his companions, “What is it to say about his majesty?”). Spanning the fighting factions. The wavy rage with his fingers sometimes becomes slapstick and brave, giving the audience a gentle commentary about the plot that unfolds.
While most performers dress in Dapper's business, Richard wears suede loafers and a frock coat. His crown is an unembodied gold headband, which is relatively strict and paradoxically increasing its symbolic power as the crown progresses. (The costume is by Eleanor Dolan.) Bob Crowley's set design is minimal but elegant. The changes in the scene in the traverse stage are affected seamlessly with the help of hydraulic platforms. The rectangular segments of the stage sink into the intestines of the auditorium and resurface to produce actors and props.
And there are some clever lighting work by Bruno's poet, especially in the penultimate scene, set in Yorkshire Castle, where Richard watches his second and final imprisonment. The backlit bar of his prison cells casts a long shadow that stops just below Richard's bed, where he is all to himself under the spotlight, and is then killed by Henry's henchmen.
But it's a shame about the vaguely premonitional music snatching off a few scenes. This score evokes PEG's off-sense suspense that is not worthy of Shakespeare, but worthy of a TV show like “Sungession.”
Those who want the all-talk of modern politics are the lessons of caution about what leaders are used to – they cannot be found here. Shakespeare's play is not ranked as a portrayal of Richard's failure, but is an agnostic about his right to subversion and mistakes. Certainly, bowlingbroke shares more with populist demagogues than democratic saviors, with his straight talking style and brave promise to “pick the federal caterpillars with weeds.”
Henry's accession to the throne sowed seeds for a decades-long cycle of violence that became known as the War of Roses, and gave birth to the prophecy of the Bishop of Carlisle – here the woman, Badria Timimi, and Everything was played. Richard's deposition is like Cassandra, in the long run, Richard's deposition will lead to “distance, fear, fear, rebellion.” “England blood fertilizes the ground,” she warns.
The more fascinating drama here is not a political plot, but a tragic transformation of the abdicated king. Whether Richard's kunky loneliness has ever been resident in the King's God's rights or denounce the audience (his former subject) for their downfall and indifference Despite this, he was typing notes that were somewhat hopeless and dishonest. However, his flip's complacency, via panic and despair, gives way to the modest Serenity, as he is not burdened by defeat. This transition is difficult for actors to pull apart – they somehow need to be small and big at the same time – and Bailey runs it with admirable subtlety.
Conversely, the taker is unsure of victory, as the full importance of his actions becomes clear. When Richard finally places the crown on his cousin's head, Henry quickly removes it and sits badly. His glorious moment is a gloomy antimicrobial organism.
They say that character is destiny in politics as in life, but the proposal here exerts their own degradation power on all those who speculate that the great offices of the nation will occupy them. That's what it is. Legitimacy is a slippery currency, unquantified and fluid. It's almost next to the point. Power itself is a problem. Humans are not built to handle it.
