Yes, I know I've used the title and phrase before, but let it stand. It's an absolutely perfect description of Kate Hennig's play, The Last Wife, now on stage at Stratford in its world premiere production.
The mere junction of those words "Stratford" and "world premiere production" in the same sentence is proof positive that this is no longer your mother's or grandmother's Stratford we're talking about. if there was any doubt of that, the script of The Last Wife will blast those doubts right out of the water for good.
At one time, it was considered very much the thing to write plays about historical periods in the language of the times where the story was set (or at least a reasonable counterfeit of it) and to try to get inside the sensibilities of the period by doing so. Some great works of the world theatre have been produced in this way, such as Miller's The Crucible and -- more to the point -- Bolt's A Man For All Seasons and Anderson's Anne of the Thousand Days (more to the point because they both deal with the events of the reign of King Henry VIII of England).
Hennig's approach is totally different. She does work with the facts of history, but only as a skeleton on which to build a collection of characters who talk and think in a thoroughly modern way. Which is, as she intimates herself in her Playwright's Notes in the program, just her way of suggesting that people in Tudor times weren't really as different from us as we might suppose. The result is not historic, most decidedly not that, and Hennig is quick to say so. But it's a fascinating script all the same, and casts intriguing sidelights on the well-known and not so well-known characters she uses. It communicates its vision to the audience about 95% through "offstage" or private moments in the lives of the family, with only a few key elements introduced through public occasions. Notably, Hennig highlights several of these public moments as well as a few private ones by using the text of actual laws, letters, or proclamations.
The play is also thoroughly modern in using a series of short interconnected scenes and (sensibly) supporting that approach by using very simple set pieces easily and quickly moved into new positions by both cast and crew.
Although some props have a period air to them, the costumes are thoroughly modern with the exception of Henry's naval uniform which evokes the style that dates back to the nineteenth century, thereby bringing in the confusing possibility of a third era. Particularly striking is designer Yannik Larivee's use of long-lined simple gowns for Kate (Katherine Parr, Henry VIII's last wife), lines which emphasize both actor Maev Beaty's height and her regal, imposing carriage -- she appears queenly even before Henry sets eyes on her.
On the flat arena floor of Stratford's Studio Theatre, the spare but sophisticated lighting designs of Kimberly Purtell play a truly critical role in defining space and bridging scene to scene.
There are six characters on stage in the play, and half a dozen more who are presences on stage by virtue of how often they come up in the characters' thoughts and words. Most notable of those not portrayed is Jane Seymour, the King's third wife and mother of his son, Eddie (Edward VI).
Jonah Q. Gribble gives a noteworthy performance as Eddie, this boy who will be King, and in his performance we get definite glimpses of the King he will become -- and of his differences from his father. Gribble effectively portrays a self-assurance which Henry notably lacks.
Henry's younger daughter, Bess (Elizabeth I) is played by Bahia Watson. She has the tricky task of depicting her growth from childhood to young adulthood as the events of the play unfold, and like any maturing child she often leaps ahead at one moment and backslides the next. It's one of the most convincing portrayals I've ever seen of a child played by an adult.
Her older half-sister Mary (yes, that's Queen Mary, "Bloody Mary" -- we're not talking Mary, Queen of Scots here!) is perhaps the toughest character in the play to bring to life. She begins as a tedious monomaniac on the subject of the wrongs done to her and her mother -- and this certainly reflects what is known of the real woman. As the play goes on, more and more bits and pieces leak out and a portrait gradually emerges of a more whole person, bitter and vengeful still, but with other and easier aspects of her personality too. It's a virtuoso performance by Sara Farb, the character at first painted all in black and blood red like the dresses she wears, and then gradually allowing the colours to soften and the shades to lighten ever so little at a time.
Thom (Thomas Seymour), the brother of the dead Jane, is performed by Gareth Potter. He is the man not so much acting as acted upon by the events of history, and so it becomes a bit difficult to relate to him as a person -- apart from the scenes of his romance with Kate, including their eventual marriage. This fault, if fault it is, lies in the script and not in Potter's strong performance. The very real affection between him and the royal children comes through loud and clear.
And so we come to the regal couple. Henry VIII is (I think) accurately portrayed as a man gnawed at insatiably by doubts -- doubts about the sincerity and motives of all around him, doubts about his own ability as King, doubts about his own lovability, and above all doubts about the security of his realm after his death. These oppressive doubts make him a creature of monumental uncertainty, capable of turning on a dime and condemning on a whim or a rumour. Joseph Ziegler is a masterly actor, and certainly demonstrated this with all the fine shades of emotion as much as the broad brushstrokes which he brought into the part.
Last, and definitely not least, Maev Beaty in the central role of Kate (Katharine Parr). There's not really anything I can say about this except that this is as wide-ranging, challenging a role as can be found anywhere in theatre, a tremendous prize for any actor who is fully up to its demands. Maev Beaty as Kate? Wow. Just -- wow. A blockbuster performance by any standards.
One final comment about the script: in language, this is very much a play of today. By using so much contemporary colloquialism, Kate Hennig has definitely stepped into the Shakespearean tradition of dealing with historic events in the speech and costume of the author's own time. In doing so she has invested these people, so often treated as mere elegant cutouts in a pageant, with a humanity and reality that they all too often lack on stage or screen.
All the same, I suspect that this play will not wear well -- at first. I can see it going up like a rocket and being performed widely, and then being set aside as too dated. What I'm really curious to know is the eventual judgement of history on the play itself -- but we'd all have to stick around several centuries to find that out.
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