Richard II
I’ve been struggling a lot this week. I think we all are. I’d like to think that this is it, and we’re all absolutely fed up with the constant barrage of violence against black bodies. I’ve been in this really strange state all week. Perhaps other white people feel similarly: I want to help. I don’t want to get in the way. I want to do something. We all have to stay home. I text a few numbers, make a few emails, donate. Nothing seems like it’s actually enough.
I did the only thing I could think of actually “doing.” I watched The Globe’s all female, all POC Richard II. It didn’t actually do anything to help our country’s situation, but it did help get some gears turning on race and my relationship to it. White people are the problem. We are the issue. This is our problem to solve. I’m going to try and be better in any way that I can, and I’m going to start with the ways in which I think about, view, and examine art. I’m going to call myself out on my own shit, and I’m going to start with this production.
First of all, the concept of this production is epic. Let’s not understate that. In Shakespeare’s world, there have been women playing men’s roles: Sarah Bernhardt was the first to play Hamlet in 1899; Cush Jumbo will be taking the same role on later this year at the Young Vic, fingers crossed! And there have been a far greater number of men who playing women’s roles. This is always under the clever guise of “just like Shakespeare’s time.” Good roles for women in Shakespeare are few and far between. Add race to the mix, and roles are even more scarce. You have occasional offerings- Othello in Othello, Cleopatra in Antony and Cleopatra, the moor in Titus Andronicus (although this one might be pretty offensive for a modern audience??)- but most of these are once in a lifetime roles, and, throughout history, they have been stolen by white folks. It’s probably safe to say that most people- even some white people- don’t believe Shakespeare is for them. It’s also safe to say that most Britons, in the Brexit Era, aren’t too sure that the UK is for them either. The choice to create a cast composed entirely of women of color for a heavily male production (I would say it’s around 98% male) is a feat in and of itself.
At the same time, however, there are a few choices I don’t agree with. It has nothing to do with the casting of the actors and everything to do with their acting style. At first, it was difficult to ascertain whether these were purely casting decisions (the actor didn’t necessarily fit that role) or directorial ones (the actors were given a direction from one director and chose a uniform style that didn’t mesh with me). Then, I find out that the co-director of the project is Richard herself, Adjoa Andoh, and it’s all clear.
I feel so. bad. I want to like her as Richard so much, but something simply doesn’t mesh. Is she too haughty? Too arrogant? Wait a minute. Am I supposed to hate Richard from the beginning for all of these reasons? Maybe.
Maybe it is a uniform aspect “saw the air thus” that ripples through the ensemble— an aspect that Shakespeare clearly warns us against in Hamlet’s speech to his players. Boy, these actors sure do know how to saw that air. And not just with their speech but also with their bodies. The Queen, especially, is stiff and locked in. Something is there, but it’s trapped inside her. I WANTED SO MUCH TO BE IN LOVE WITH ALL OF THESE PEOPLE. Is it a me problem? Am I too stringent with my Shakespeare? Is it because I’m not used to seeing women, and especially women of color, in powerful, dominating, testosterone-heavy roles?! I mean, the play literally starts with a duel… What this all boils down to is, Adjoa Andoh is doing a lot. Is it too much? Or is it just what Shakespeare ordered? I’m leaning towards the former option, even considering all other variables.
It’s unfortunate because there is so much beauty in this production. Also integral to this production’s concept is its wholehearted rejection of western aesthetics. The music is inspired by Tribal Africa, the costumes inspired by Ancient Egypt, China, and India. The set is lathered in warm tans, browns, and golden hues. It is not set anywhere specific, but it is definitely not set in England.
In John of Gaunt’s famous last words, “That England that was wont to conquer others/ Hath made a shameful conquest of itself,” echoes a post-colonial Britain as well. The nation’s conquered peoples are now its solid majority. And yet, history still shows otherwise (meaning we still see Shakespeare through the lens of Britain’s finest white male actors, for the most part). This production’s function, then, is to re-tell, re-place, or re-form history. It suggests we focus on Britain’s future instead of continuing to fixate on its past. Progressive theatre at its finest. It doesn’t really matter whether or not I could stand the acting. I’m sure some people loved it. Solid four stars in The Guardian. What matters is that it even happened.
