Edward II is chiefly known nowadays due to the (allegedly)
gruesome nature of his death, so first of all, here is a quick recap from
Sellars and Yeatman:
Edward II had a wave
of favourites or hangers-on at court, of whom the worst was Piers Gaveston.
They were Edward’s reply to the continual application of the Barons for a
confirmation of all the charters and garters of the Realm. Edward II was so
weak that he kept banishing his favourites and then unbanishing them again. The
barons therefore became so impatient that they deposed Edward without even waiting
to arrange for any false claimants to the throne.
The son of Edward I, ‘the hammer of the Scots’, Edward II
was seen as something of a playboy; early on in Marlowe’s drama, we are told
that ‘music and poetry is his delight’. More controversially for his Earls (and
his wife), he also took delight in the company of Piers Gaveston, a Frenchman
of common birth. Despite having no real authority, Gaveston gave bad counsel,
alienated the ruler from his advisors and annoyed the nation with his cavorting
– so basically a cross between Peter Mandelson and Miley Cyrus. Determined to
reassert their authority, the Earls threatened to rebel against the King if
Gaveston was not banished. This set in train a power struggle that, in
typically Marlowe style, leaves pretty much everyone dead by the final curtain.
Many of Marlowe’s heroes, like Faustus and Tamburlaine, are
eventually destroyed by hubris and lust for power. Edward, played here by John
Heffernan, is different; for him, power is a means to an end, the freedom to
live as he pleases with Gaveston. When this desire is threatened by the jealous
Earls, he initially plays the tyrant (‘I will have Gaveston and you shall know
What danger ‘tis to stand against your king’), but ultimately he has little
stomach for this act, wavering and submitting to his enemies. At one point, he threatens
to dissolve the churches; Marlowe’s audience would have been well-aware of what
could happen when a powerful monarch challenged the Pope, and have perceived
the limitations of Edward’s authority. The fact that, like Henry VIII, Edward’s
successor was still a youth, would also have given a sense of foreboding to an
audience which believed in the need for strong monarchs. Heffernan is equally effective as a joyful, beholden lover to Kyle Soller's outrageous Gaveston, as a spiteful husband and finally as a despairing prisoner, performing a complex role with assurance, pathos and humour.
What is fascinating in Marlowe’s play is his seeming impatience;
rather than gradually building Edward’s character up, following the traditions
of the tragic hero, Edward’s downfall begins extremely early. Speeches and soliloquies
are kept brief, with the focus being on the action at all times. The tempo of
the production reflects this, making clever use of live video streams to ensure
that there are normally two or more things happening simultaneously for the
audience to watch. This has the effect of holding the crowd’s attention whilst
also reflecting the chaos of rebellion and war. Edward’s descent is counter-balanced
by the rise of Mortimer (a muscular performance by Kobna Holdbrook-Smith), who
enjoys a vertiginous rise before the thread that connects them snaps, leaving
both to plunge to their dooms in the finale.
The National Theatre production is heavily influenced by
Brecht; key events, such as the murder of the King, are announced by live
captions before they occur, whilst the backstage area is visible behind the
set, ensuring that the audience cannot forget the artificial nature of the spectacle
they are witnessing. In the first act, the stage contains a walled off room
where plots are hatched and parties held, which the audience can only see in
glimpses, and through live relay on the video screens. The shaky, hand-held
footage is a very contemporary touch, evocative of citizen journalism and
embedded reporters. Later, this room is dismantled, acting as a metaphor for
the anarchy of the conflict between Edward and his Earls. At one point,
characters are shown on the video screens entering the theatre from outside,
walking through production offices before appearing on the stage. Whilst the
production is predominantly performed in period costume, and the original
script is adhered to, some characters appear in modern dress, notably Gaveston
and Queen Isabella, played by Vanessa Kirby as a huffy Sloane.
There are some false notes; although she grows into the role
after the interval, Kirby doesn’t always convince during the first half, whilst
Mortimer’s frenzied bellowing late on is a little overdone. Mainly, though, the
production is notable for audacious touches like Gaveston’s initial entrance, and
the success it has in maintaining the hysterical intensity of Marlowe’s script
from the opening section to the end. There are moments of physical comedy, when
the King and his favourite torment the Bishop of Coventry, whilst Edward’s misery
later on is affecting. The supporting cast features strong performances from Kirsty Bushell as Kent and Nathaniel Martello-White as Spencer, amongst others. The constant activity onstage means that the first act doesn’t
drag, despite its near two-hour running time. As with many modern productions,
this adaptation is overt about the King’s sexuality, playing up innuendos in
Marlowe’s text, but the performances are rarely camp. Whilst Edward suffers for
his sexual desire, others such as Isabella and Mortimer are also bought to
their knees by lust, whether it be desire for power or protection.
On the way out, there seemed to be a mixed reaction from the
audience, with some traditionalists disappointed by the modern touches of the
production; on the other hand, I found the dynamic staging exhilarating and
fascinating, the energy sufficient to make up for occasional flaws. Edward II
may not have all the depth and enduring brilliance of Doctor Faustus or
Tamburlaine, but the ebb and flow of the drama makes for a startling night at
the theatre.
Edward II runs at The National Theatre until 26 October. More information and tickets here.
Edward II runs at The National Theatre until 26 October. More information and tickets here.


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