THEATRE: Henry VIII RSC Swan Theatre

David Benedict
Saturday 16 November 1996 00:02 GMT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Henry VIII

RSC Swan Theatre, Stratford upon Avon (01789 295623)

Anyone out there writing a play about Michael Howard? No? Well, for posterity's sake, perhaps somebody should. Several titles spring to mind: Howard's Way, The Sound of Silence, or a comedy version of the Al Pacino movie, And Justice for All.

"Has our correspondent taken leave of his senses," I hear you cry? Ah, but consider the case of little Billy Shakespeare. Nobody had a clue who he was, just some Elizabethan bod from outside Birmingham. Then he goes and writes a play about a recent king and his wicked sidekick, Cardinal Wolsey - the Tudor answer to Michael Howard - and before you can say "doublet and hose", he's the David Hare of his day.

Actually, it wasn't quite like that. (the play, not the man) comes towards the end of the Shakespeare canon. Mind you, no one's quite sure that he wrote it in the first place. Ever since 1850, literary academics, who like nothing better than an authorship wrangle, have been ferreting among the folios and telling the world that the play is a collaboration with John Fletcher, one half of the Beaumont and Fletcher double act. "Naaah," yells the opposing faction, "Shakespeare weren't nowhere near it. 'Twas Fletcher and Philip Massinger."

Whoever wrote it (and its impending inclusion in the new and spectacularly scholarly Arden edition of the complete works suggests that critical opinion has finally swung back to the Bard), it was sufficiently inflammatory to burn down the Globe Theatre in 1613, but that's art for you. Dangerous stuff at the best of times.

As the world knows, (the man, not the play) was in fact not a monarch but a six-part TV series with travelling costume display. Keith Michel set about marrying a different woman every week (damn promiscuous, those heterosexuals). Dr Quinn Medicine Woman starred in episode three... or was it Jane Seymour? Either way, everybody ended up smiling... except Anne Boleyn, but that's what happens when you get ideas above your station, become a jumped-up parvenue and change your name from Bullen.

Strange to relate, little of this crops up in Shakespeare's version, which doesn't even have the decency to tell us whether or not Henry really did compose "Greensleeves" - the "Mull of Kintyre" of its day. (He didn't.) Nevertheless, with the ludicrously underrated Paul Jesson in the title role, there's no excuse for missing Greg Doran's new RSC staging, which previews from Wednesday.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in