Part three of three

That is to say Richard III at the Rose at Kingston. Once again a full house and a good show, but I did have complaints.

I did not care for what struck me as a rather squeaky, childish and foppish take on Richard III, whom I had thought to be something of a seasoned veteran by the time of the action of the play - although checking this afternoon, I find what while he was indeed a veteran, he was only 32 at the time of his death. Perhaps that counted as mature and middle aged at the time. So I stand by my point: Robert Sheehan seemed too young, despite being 27, and failed to bring enough of the proper force, malice and gravitas to the role.

Before the show I had been rather struck by the wonderful line involving a wanton ambling nymph, but, as all too often when one marks something of that sort down, it got lost on the day. Clearly had not struck Sheehan in the same way.

I liked the old Queen Margaret better than the young one, was not so keen on Queen Elizabeth on this second outing, liked the Lady Anne better when she was Joan of Arc while the Duke of Clarence was better on his third outing than on his first two. I found Henry VI reappearing in supporting roles making comments on his own reign slightly distracting; that sort of thing being the proper business of ghosts. Stanley (aka Derby) suitably shifty, but did not quite pull it off for me. Interested to read afterwards that he survived the battle by 20 years, along with quite a number of the others; perhaps Henry Tudor really did bury the hatchet.

At various points there was a rather silly looking executioner's axe. Executioners are supposed to be grim, not silly, and it would have been easy enough to get a proper axe.

Some scenes rather spoilt by inappropriate tittering from the audience. Perhaps modern audiences find in hard to cope with people who really do believe in God, devils and evil spirits. Or think that honour is important. Set piece speeches generally good.

Carping aside, it was in sum a good play, a play which came through its ordeal in good shape.

The lady next to me in a rather flashy red dress admitted to being rather tired by the end, having sat through all three parts in one day. An older chap behind me, also in for all three parts, had set off from Greenwich around 0600 that morning and was still up an running at the interval, say 2100. But he left pretty fast at the end for what must have been his two hour drive home. There was also a chara from Kirby Longsdale, right from the heart of the lands of the red and white roses. I didn't get to find out whether they were driving back through the night but I do remember that we once did two plays in one day at Stratford, busing it back to London afterwards - and, as I recall, I was not that keen at the time, let alone now. Whereas, as things stand, with the Rose just twenty minutes up the road from Epsom, one a week worked well. Well done the Rose!

No refreshment at the Ram on this occasion, having taken drink at the theatre, but we managed well at the car park as BH had read the small print on the theatre tickets and bothered to collect her discounted car park exit ticket from the desk at the Rose. With the result that we were able to amble past the long queue which had formed at the machine at the bottom.

PS: google offers just one rather tacky image for 'wanton ambling nymph', so I leave the post with the words of the bard, unadorned.