Filed under: Arts, theatre, Uncategorized | Tags: james III, Rona Munro, the james plays
You can read the concept behind the James Plays in my post of two days ago here.
James III completes the trilogy and in my opinion the best was saved for last.
It’s subtitled The True Mirror because writer Rona Munro uses the device of a gift of a ‘true’ mirror from James III to his, by this point in Act 2, estranged wife to show her how ugly she is. But Malin Crepin, the Swedish actor who plays the part, could hardy be described thus, and her character doesn’t fall for it.
It backfires dramatically. The metaphor extends to the plays as a whole holding a mirror up to Scotland and asking it what it stands for and looks like.
What makes this the most enjoyable of the three plays in the trilogy is, firstly, the performances of Matthew Pigeon as James III and, secondly, of Crepin as his wife, the Danish Queen Margaret.
Munro writes it for laughs and she gets them in spades.
Unlike the first two plays, this time we meet the protagonist towards the end of his short life (he died aged 37). But it’s debatable whether this play should be called Margaret, as it’s the Queen that dominates the proceedings, fulfilling many of James’ duties in running the country while he enjoys the life of Riley, including assignations both with his female dresser and his manservant.
And yet he still carries a cross for his beautiful queen.
At one point he loses the plot with her and after losing an argument about whether her father, the King of Denmark, had paid her dowry he screams at her. “What did I get as your dowry? Orkney! And FUCKING Shetland.”
The same cannot be said for his relationship with his eldest son, Jamie, destined to be James IV. It’s a kind of madness in that he is jealous of him because the future is his and he knows Jamie will one day fill his shoes. He sets out to make his life a misery as a form of anticipatory punishment.
He is, in the true sense of the word, a 15th century luvvie with many affectations that leave his court speechless, not least his hiring of a choir to follow him in his duties and sing musical numbers appropriate to the task of the moment. These moments are truly hilarious.
Music plays a big part in James III as both acts open with seemingly spontaneous, but perfectly choreographed, barn dances to contemporary songs like Pharrell Williams’ “Happy’ and The Human League’s “Don’t you want me”.
It’s a hoot.
Pigeon really is outstanding as the madness consumes him; his marriage breaks down and his affair with his manservant reaches shock proportions. His coming out scene will live long in the memory.
As the play nears its conclusion Queen Margaret berates the audience with the houselights on. She asks us what being Scottish means to us the accusation being that Scotland does’t actually know what she wants, doesn’t know if it can survive without the protection of our big neighbours. This is clearly where the Independence agenda is most focussed, as is to be expected given its commission in August 2014.
Regicide/patricide follow. But by now we are fully attuned to the vagaries of life in 15th century courts. It’s just another death really.
Over these three productions we meet three excellent kings (particularly Matthew Pigeon) and three excellent queens (particularly Malin Crepin)and some excellent supporting performances from Sally Reid, Blyth Duff, Ali Craig and Peter Forbes. But, so too, do we have a few disappointments (no names mentioned).
Overall the ensemble is good.
The 20 foot sword that dominates stage left throughout should go. Frankly it’s a pain in the ass.
For me James III crackled and was both hilarious and absorbing throughout. Act 1 of James I was every bit as good but Act II slipped a little. James II was the lesser of the three, let down as it was by the performances of the parliamentary big wigs.
But taken as a whole it’s a big, bold, brave, brash and epic theatrical event like no other I have experienced.
My final word of congratulations goes to Rona Munro. The writing throughout is stunning, the plotting brilliant and the ambition laudable.
Now, back to my day job.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: James II James II of Scotland, Rona Munro, the james plays
I’m not going to go through the background to The ‘James Plays’ here. If you are interested I’ve summarised it in yesterday’s post.
Part two of this theatrical marathon trawl through the 15th Century Scottish Monarchs’ turbulent reigns features the son of James I. The play opens in his childhood as his mother, Queen Joan, hurriedly tries to bundle him out of her under-seige home in Perth, hidden in a kist. His mother, spattered in blood, makes a fearsome sight and his father has reached his bloody end as part of an uprising led by Walter Stewart, Earl of Athol.
This experience leads to the young James suffering dreadful nightmares and the kist (or trunk) becomes his place of refuge.
Young James has been born with, in Rona Munro’s interpretation, a Scotland-shaped fiery red facial birthmark that led to his nickname of Fiery Face – it is said people appropriated this as a reflection of his hot temper but we see none of that here and indeed he was known to have run a popular reign.
Thanks to his father’s commitment to righting the wrongs he inherited the young James assumes control (at the age of only one) of a mighty army and rich dynasty,. However, as a youngster he finds himself under the steely, and cruel, tutelage of Sir Alexander Livingston and the Earl of Crighton. The boorish Livingston, it transpires, is far more interested in lining his own pockets than doing right for Scotland or for getting James’ back.
It has inevitable consequences.
As a nine year old we see the blossoming of ‘Jamie’s’ friendship with William Douglas, son of the previously inept Balvennie of The Douglas family who has, since finding favour with Queen Joan, grown some balls and amassed a colossal land bank from Elgin in the north down the east coast and into the borders. Only Galloway now evades his greedy ownership and it’s of strategic importance because it will give him a corridor of territory that will lock out England.
His eldest son, Jamie’s pal William, however, is, in his eyes, a buffoon and has inadvertently stolen a valued horse from the Galloway owners which threatens to blow up into serious trouble.
So far, so convoluted.
The history lesson and the power struggles are fascinating, and the essence of the play. Particularly that between the Stewarts and the Douglas’s. It’s brought to vivid life through a metaphor in which both ‘clans’ do battle in a ‘football’ match on the Holy Feast Day of The Innocents that sees the Douglas’ triumph. It’s underscored by conflict but ends up in a chummy but fragile peace.
The match has been arranged by Jamie’s young bride, the consumptive Mary of Guilders. In an early scene it becomes clear that James has not consummated their marriage because he has spent the night in his kist suffering terrible nightmare.
Wealth and women are the real keys to power in this cornucopian of dynasties and Rona Munro ensures that, though not warlords, the women of the court and government are portrayed as important powers behind the empires.
Most notable of these is the imprisoned Issabella Stewart who James father has locked up in Edinburgh Castle. James befriends her and sees her as a soothsayer. “Beware the mouth that speaks blood” she says foretelling the souring of his relationship with William Douglas.
Most of the play, like James I, focuses on the early life of the King and in this case it’s centred around the timorous King’s early relationship with Livingston, Crighton and Balvennie as his older government leaders, and William Douglas, his best friend.
It’s a more intimate portrait than James I and we see the relationship with William sour as Douglas matures and becomes his father’s greedy son. A greed that the ‘good King’ cannot tolerate.
The play uses a clever flashback sequence to change time periods as we see the child King become a young man and his initial impishness grow into steely determination.
But gradually it centres purely on his and young Douglas’ friendship. He sends Douglas to Rome as his Papal representative thinking it will mature him but it only deepens the lust for power that he has inherited from his now dead father (an excellent death scene entertains us in act 2).
He returns thirsting for a share of the Monarch’s influence but we realise quickly that Douglas has overstepped the mark and, far from being the timorous beastie that marked his childhood, King James II will tolerate nae shite frae naebody.
Bring on Part 3.
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The ‘James Plays’ were written to commission by Rona Munro for National Theatre of Scotland, The National Theatre and The Edinburgh Festival for Ed Fest 2014 and were performed a month before the Scottish Independence referendum on September 18th 2014.
The timing was no coincidence.
They were performed initially to reviews that ranged from ambivalent to brilliant. One critic described them as better than Shakespeare (specifically I think this was in comparison to the ‘Henry Plays’) – something of an exaggeration given that Munro’s language is far less dense, and written with 21st century audiences (and not all in Scotland) in mind.
Whilst Shakespeare wrote largely in the vernacular of 17th century England, and in unrhymed iambic pentameter, Munro spares us this secondary level of complexity. The dialogue is, in fact, very easy to follow.
Like Shakespeare, Munro is fond of a laugh and James I, Act 1 particularly, is chock full of laughs; some belly laughs in fact.
The trilogy (‘Box Set Theatre’ as it has been described rather flippantly) covers the reigns of the first three Scottish King James’ and covers the period of around 1424 when James returns to Scotland as a 31 year old uncrowned (in his native land) Monarch, just married to a fucking (as Munro is want to say) high maintenance 17 year old nobleman’s daughter, Joan Beaufort, daughter of nobleman, The Earl of Somerset, to 1488.
He’s survived 18 years in King Henry 5th’s prison after he was captured by English pirates whilst fleeing Scotland as a 12 year old boy. He was invested, in prison, as king of Scotland by Henry but, of course, the savages, deep in conflict with their English neighbours know not of this and one particularly treacherous family, cousins of james, The Albany Stewarts have installed themselves in Falkland Palace and are running the country as tyrants.
The play concerns James’ freedom and return to Scotland with his new, petrified, bride and her maid ‘Meg’ (brilliantly played by Sally Reid) to establish his monarchy in the face of fierce opposition from the Stewarts.
His ambition is to return Scotland to lawful and fair governance, to end the war with England and to return the land taxes to the monarch’s chancellery instead of straight into the pockets of the Stewarts.
Well, it doesn’t proceed as planned.
The wife’s a moaning, homesick pain in the ass. Although it becomes clear that, despite the arranged nature of the marriage, not only is James in love with her but he had a major crush on her as he spied her from his prison cell in England.
The Albany Stewarts, especially the ferocious matriarch Isabella (a stellar turn by Blyth Duff) resist strongly.
And he can’t afford an army.
Thus we have much fighting, lots of ribald language, comedy aplenty and a touching love story as an underscore.
It’s great fun. with great performances by the ensemble of 20 and strongly led by Steven Miller as James, Rosemary Boyle as Queen Joan and John Stahl as Murdac Stewart.
We are spared james full life story culminating in his murder in Perth in 1437 during a failed coup. His wife, Queen Joan and mother of his soon to be crowned son, James II escapes and seeks refuge in Edinburgh Castle where, presumably. James II might kick off.
We’ll see. (And so should you)
James Plays at Edinburgh Festival Theatre until 13 Feb before touring.
Filed under: Arts, movies, politics, religion, stories | Tags: boston globe, catholic church, child sex abuse in catholic church, investigative journalism, liev schreiber, mark ruffalo, michael keaton, peadophile priests, pulitzer prize, rachel mcadams, scandal, spotlight, stanlet tucci, tom mccarthy
“I’m just a poor boy from a poor family” says one of the victims of systematically covered up child abuse by paedophile Priests in Boston “and when a priest pays attention to you, it’s a big deal. How do you say ‘no’ to God?”.
The victim might well have added, as I did, subconsciously, the paraphrased words of Freddie Mercury “spare me my life from this monstrosity.”
Because let’s make no mistake here. This was a monstrosity.
The story is, on the surface, a journalistic procedural about the ‘exposing’ (no pun intended) of paedophile priests in Massachusetts (Boston specifically) by The Boston Globe’s ‘Spotlight’ tiny hit squad at the turn of the millennium. The investigation is set into motion at the instruction of the ailing paper’s then Editor, Marty Baron, played with callous inscrutability by Liev Scriver. It’s a masterful performance.
Or at least that’s how the movie’s billed. In actual fact it becomes a complete deconstruction of the ‘Three Estates’ and commentary on their deep rooted self protection; the clergy, the news industry, the legal sector, the monied are all systematically pulverised in Josh Singer and Tom McCarthy’s acid script.
No one comes out alive.
Including, tragically, many of the thousand and more victims of this institutionalised psychological ‘phenomenon’ that is peculiar to a significant minority (6% apparently) of the Catholic clergy, and it hasn’t just happened in Boston Massachusetts, but the first world over.
That’s why this film is so important, because as we bemoan the effect of islamic fundamentalism of the World order right now the Christian religion has been breeding just as insidious an evil, but from within and of its own, for decades (maybe, no probably, longer).
As the movie opens it quickly becomes apparent that Spotlight is a commercial indulgence in the context of falling newsprint sales and the fledgling ‘internet’ bringing with it, as it did, almost unlimited, free 24 hour news. The new editor, with a reputation for cutting the workforce elsewhere, initially looks at Spotlight (a team of four) with skepticism.
They grow their stories at leisure and have an unhealthily parochial attitude towards them. They look set for the chop until Baron learns of a retired priest who’s been exposed and thinks it’s a story for the Spotlight team. Apart from eager beaver, Mike Rezendez (another magnificent performance by the chameleon-like Mark Ruffalo) they’re initially reluctant because they know the city ‘mafia’ (it’s strongly Catholic and protects its own) will not make the task easy and could, in fact, boycott the title if the accusations are distasteful.
The Spotlight team go for it with vigour. The meat of the film gradually excavates the layers of deceit, and cover up, executed by the Archbishop, his cronies and the legal profession who carry out extensive, but not particularly elaborate, burial of evidence, misfiling of case reports and the turning of blind eyes; right left and centre.
The pollce are implicated (no, accused) the most senior judiciary (some of them also Catholic) subvert and seal important files.
Frankly, the whole thing sucks.
And then 9/11 strikes, suddenly the world’s eyes turn to Islam, including Spotlights’.
It’s a tragic intervention in many ways because the team is making real progress; extracting victim stories from grown men, mainly but not exclusively, that agree to tell their stories and closing in on the legal, clergy and city movers and shakers that are at the heart of the cover up.
But eventually the case resumes and we reach our inevitable and well publicised finale.
What Tom McCathy has achieved here is turn a movie into a fly on the wall docudrama, shot, as it is, in unglamorous fluorescent light for the most part. The lead performances by Ruffalo, Rachel McAdams, Michael Keaton and John Slattery are selfless. Spotlight is bigger than any of them. (A special mention must also go to Stanley Tucci for playing the lawyer with a heart in an award worthy turn.)
The script is a whodunit of epic proportions and the content is both worthwhile and necessary; the sum is most certainly greater than the parts.
Praise to the real Spotlight team was ultimately massive (they won the Pulitzer prize for their efforts) but the impact it has had as it has resonated across not just the Boston Globe but its entirety makes this an effort of monumental proportions and the basis of a truly great movie that should win best picture at the 2016 Academy Awards.
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‘Is This Yours?’ is an exploration of lost things. Baby’s lose things a lot.
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