Ben Wood as Henry and Nikki Shiels as Kate. Photo: Phil Erbacher.
This is a wonderfully refreshing and enacting imagination of what life could have been like nearly five hundred years ago if one was unfortunate enough to be married to that most Christian King and Defender of the Faith, Henry VIII. Canadian playwright and director Kate Henning (not to mention Tudor historian, which she must be) has concentrated on the married life of Catherine Parr and, using contemporary language that brings these long-dead people to life and gives us an clear insight into their world, has delivered an entertaining and informative play that should even please history buffs.
Everyone knows Henry VIII had six wives, and it’s often dismissed as a bit of a joke. What an old lech – ho! ho! – but dear old Henry was a tyrant and a bully, and his court was no place for the faint-hearted. To be out of favour was bad enough; to be in favour was just as dangerous as it was often only a matter of time before one fell from grace (and perhaps under the executioner’s axe).
The action starts by establishing that the ambitious and power-hungry Thomas Seymour (brother to the late Queen Jane) and the twice-widowed Catherine want to marry. Enter Henry.
Ben Wood’s Henry is played in his native Australian accent. He could be the commodore of a local (royal, presumably) yacht club, albeit one in a double-breasted suit with medals. Nikki Shiels’ Kate, slinky in a pale blue dress that is almost a negligee, is immediately on the alert. Simon London’s Thom is also wary, and on the backfoot. Not one to tolerate a rival – and Henry has clearly taken a shine to Kate, ‘a frisky little filly’ – he’s soon dispatched elsewhere for a while. Bye, Thom, it’s time for wedding n o six.
As Henning knows, and as Wood and Shiels demonstrate so well, this was a marriage not so much of convenience as necessity, on Henry’s part. What we know about Katherine Parr includes her devout religiosity and good sense, her generous, caring nature and her love for Seymour. She was also canny. In The Last Wife she dresses Henry’s stinking, ulcerous leg; she helps him with his military campaigns; she manoeuvres his volatile temper in and out of bed; and does what no one else has attempted: she brings together the king’s three children, the two alienated half-sisters Mary (Bishanyia Vincent) and Bess (Emma Harvey), both of whom had been exiled, and the adored heir apparent Eddie (Emma Chelsey).
Again, Henning has created an entirely plausible scenario for the relationship between these three. Vincent’s Mary is the ultimate cynical sourpuss (with good reason) and with her timing and delivery makes the most of her lines, some of which are sharply funny. Harvey bestows Bess, still young – she was around ten years of age when Parr and her father married – with quiet intelligence and determination to please, as well as a naivete (which life will soon rob her of). Chelsey’s Eddie is very much the favoured boy, but kind-hearted and curious.
The dialogue works splendidly. Contemporising history in this way often feels clumsy and stretches credibility, but not here. The relationships between Wood and Shiels is entirely believable, and shows us just how tricky it would have been to survive Henry. As it was, there was a very close call, shown in Act 2.
All this is cleverly brought together by the Ensemble’s director Mark Kilmurry. The pace never flags, and shifts between drama and humour, and all the performances are laudable.
Shiels conveys Kate’s vulnerability and strength with nuanced expression; Wood is a bull of a Henry, a wounded and selfish bull who can only be brought down by infirmity; Vincent’s Mary is a vindictive delight; and London, when he returns, is quite the scheming seducer Thom.
Simone Romaniuk’s set is dominated by a double bed, regally brocaded and, in its way, a symbol of the king’s power and authority. Regardless of whether or not he was capable of producing another heir he had to be seen to be virile, and his wife must be compliant. Of many memorable scenes, the one which Mary dubs the ‘School for Queens’ is also illustrative of a time when women had little power, unless of course God had ordained them to take the throne. The irony of that is not lost on Henning.
Highly recommended.
Until 29 September
