. . .

  Ian Richardson in Richard II

RSC, Stratford and London, 1973/74

Ian Richardson/Richard Pasco directed by John Barton

   The RSC’s international reputation was largely built upon the legendary “The Wars of the Roses”, co-directed and edited by John Barton. I had seen his “Coriolanus”, “Troilus and Cressida”, “Measure for Measure”, “Twelth Night” and “The Tempest”: I booked for all the “Richard II” previews, in great anticipation. The reward was a quartet of great performances and an endlessly fascinating interpretation of one of my favourite plays.
   As expected, both performances and staging changed considerably at each preview. The production continued to change and evolve throughout its lifespan, even after the American tour.
    John Barton had directed Richard Pasco as Richard II for a Theatregoround production. Now he had Ian Richardson and Richard Pasco exchanging the roles of Richard and Bolingbroke at different performances. With two such fine actors, there was much enjoyment to be had at either performance. Pasco’s Bolingbroke grew over the months. In particular, all his “family” scenes - first with John of Gaunt, and later with the petitioning Yorks, were superb.
    Ian was a fine, ambiguous Bolingbroke. As Richard, he was both physically and vocally a risk-taker. As an actor, he loves “dressing up” and he loves “props”1. On the stage, a mock-up was dressed in robes and crown. The company filed onto the stage, all wearing the same plain costumes, and added to their attire whilst Ian Richardson and Richard Pasco appeared to decide between them who-would-do-which-part tonight. Then, the rest of the company cried out “God save the King”, twice; then the actor playing Richard cried alone, “God save the King”, and the play began. This initial statement (that we were watching actors acting) was echoed throughout the performance, emphasizing very strongly the impression in the text that Shakespeare’s King Richard is an actor. This much was retained throughout the play’s run.
    Many other themes and images appeared and disappeared in different performances. Early in the run, actors appeared on stilts and cothurni (these add about 12” to the wearer’s height). The King exited between the legs of stilt-walking conspirators, showing his blindness to the growing danger, but also giving them a supernatural quality. Exton grew into a great winged, plume-helmeted creature (later in the run, this image was given instead to Northumberland). Cothurni were also used when the plotters were “on horseback”, forming an apocaliptic impression. The very symmetry of these scenes gave rise to a sense of overwhelming might and the inevitability of their success.
    Over time, Barton appeared to move away from the suggestion of the superhuman adversary, and these overt indications were removed from the production. Instead, the emphasis seemed to be placed on the family relationships - the Yorks in particular becoming very playful and loving. In the early scenes, both the King and Bolingbroke looked about in their early 20s, and aged to late 50’s (grey hair, beards, etc.) by Bolingbroke’s return to England.
    All the humour of the early scenes was brought out, particularly by Ian Richardson; by Pasco also, but his tended to be “wry, dry humour” (as he said Barton required). Each actor within each role worked within the framework of the production, but there were differences in emphasis, and also some differences in the text. For example, Pasco made a religious observance over the death of the conspirators (in Latin), which Richardson did not, and he also retained some lines in his invective against the plotters which certainly lodged firmly in my brain on first hearing (he says he felt very strongly about them), which Ian (following Barton’s direction) cut. There were also a few transpositions (lines that are in the text, but spoken by a different character). They did not always wear exactly the same costumes.
    The production was full of the imagery of the play. The set included a ladder at each side of the stage leading to a platform on which the king appeared at Flint Castle, the platform descending on the lines
"Down, down I come, like glistering Phaeton
Wanting the manage of unruly jades
".
    There were many great theatrical moments. The platform appearance had great impact. Richard Pasco always handled this scene very well, but with his dislike of heights, can never have been happy. Richardson enjoyed anything he could climb or - almost - fall out/off of2. When he flung open his arms, the cloak opening like golden wings about him, and trumpeted,
"Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,
Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf
Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
Your children yet unborn and unbegot
That lift your vassal hands against my head
And threat the glory of my precious crown
",
a frisson went through the audience such as I did not experience again until Paul Scofield’s black-cloaked Salieri vowed opposition to the God who squandered his musical gifts upon the “unworthy” Amadeus Mozart.
    In the second year, the moving platform was not used. In an even more beautiful coup de theatre, the King, again wearing the dazzling golden cloak, appeared out of the mist and sun, a wonderful realisation of the “blushing, discontented sun” metaphor. At that time, Richardson's costume changed from the white shift to a white suit and thigh boots. He still managed to make it look as though he was flinging himself down on a platform high in the air...
    Another stunning theatrical moment occurred in the scene in which a groom visits the deposed king in his cell. Beneath the monk-like habit (of which the RSC in general and Barton in particular was fond), this was discovered to be Bolingbroke. I remember hoping that the critics would not “give the game away”, but most of them did. The death scene was shocking, and suitably horrible - the King jerked high into the air and suspended by the wrists to be slaughtered (Richardson’s idea, as his deaths often were).
    As in the best of Barton’s work, music played an important part. Simple tunes, extremely effective and even now, highly evocative of the production.

1You just have to have seen him on stage...!
2 See Jeremy Kingston in what the Critics said. Richardson threw himself down on the platform and did "recline like a wounded Adonis". Pasco was much less "taut" the following year when he did not have to play this scene high in the air on a narrow platform!

Shirley Jacobs©

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