By Jesse Cataldo
A heavy tale of doubt, death and war, “The Life and Death of King John” ranks as one of Shakespeare’s least known and least celebrated plays.
Thanks to this obscurity, the current run of the show, directed by Royston Coppenger and presented at Adams Playhouse, is its first performance in the 57 years of the University’s annual Shakespeare festival.
For the uninitiated, “King John” follows the ill-fated tyrant’s reign over the course of 17 years, as he struggles for legitimacy, fights the French and ransacks Britain’s monasteries. The play, which cracks under the weight of its story and the lack of a strong focus, was nonetheless performed beautifully by the drama department, with a tight underpinning of seething tension applied by a skilled cast and remarkable direction and design.
As tragic a figure as he becomes, the King is instantly unlikable, a quality deftly communicated by Quinn Hushion in a maniacal, energetic performance. The King’s insecurities are amplified by his meddling mother Eleanor, portrayed as a frighteningly cold monolith by Elisa Gouveia, dressed in stark red and black with hair pulled back as tightly as her character was wound.
Running nearly three hours in length, “King John” never dragged, instead pulsing with a narrowly-spun atmosphere of dread, aided in part by the set design. Consisting of a series of steely, spiked ramparts, which were pushed apart to form the play’s different settings, their starkness was an ominous reminder of the constant darkness of the tragedy, especially illuminated by the screen which filled the rear part of the stage. The digital screen, the color of which changed depending on the mood, cast a fiery red glow upon the stage at times, adding an eerie power to already dramatic scenes.
Other aspects of the show were also notable, including the inspired casting of Arthur, the embattled prince who holds the true claim to John’s throne, as a puppet, manipulated and voiced by Casey Geraghty.
Despite the play’s 13th century setting, the costume design drew on the whole of English experience, from John’s classic kingly robes to the turn of the century blazers and caps worn by the citizens. This choice played up the enduring Englishness of the play, especially in the closing lines, as The Bastard (Dan Rice), the knight whose rise to power ties the plot together opined “this England never did, nor never shall / Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror / But when it first did help to wound itself.”