Review by Raphael Kohn
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
‘Better a dead king than a gay king’, reads a tagline for the RSC’s 2025 production of Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II. Not exactly a subtle hint at the subject of this play, nor its tone, is it? Then again, there’s no need for subtlety here. Taking the definitely-there-but-sometimes-historically-underrepresented queer undertones of the original text (and indeed, its historical subject) and planting them straight into the limelight, complete with unrestrained portrayals of violence, I’d say that tagline suits it pretty well. It’s all the better for it, with its shock factor second only to its non-stop action in a simply stellar new show.
The ’gay king’ himself is the titular monarch, utterly head-over-heels in love with his favourite Piers Gaveston. Historians will call them close friends, besties, roommates, colleagues, but there’s no doubt in this production – it’s romantic love, through and through. But the entirety of the royal court isn’t best pleased, nor is the queen, Isabella. Instead, they shun the king’s sexuality and plot to interfere wherever they can. It’s not a happy play by any stretch of the imagination – those intrigued by the passionately romantic poster may find themselves rather surprised by the seemingly never-ending string of murders that stabs its way through the narrative.
And this comes relentlessly, with the violence portrayed through no-holds-barred staging throughout. There’s blood aplenty here, dripping out of actors’ costumes, staining their skin and others’. Its famous climax gets no interpretive imagery or creative insinuations, indeed nor do any of the other murders. Director Daniel Raggett (and fight director Kev McCurdy) present it all so viciously, and so savagely, that I think I’ll be haunted by for years to come, its final tableau seared into my retinas for life.
It’s not just the presentation of the violence, it’s the undertones of it too. There’s a content warning on the RSC’s website for blood, and it’s damn well worth its place. Yes, it’s a violent play, but its violence serves a purpose. At its core, it’s there because of intolerance, because of hate, and because of the fundamental disgust that homophobes feel at the idea of a king being queer. Sure, Marlowe wrote the play in the 16th century. But it feels so relevant and immediate, that aside from its Early Modern English text, it could have been written today.
Maybe, in some ways, it has. Partially, that’s because Raggett condenses the original text down into a speedy hour and 40 minutes, excising the interval in the process. In doing so, there’s a huge amount resected from the text, propelling the onstage action into supersonic speed. It works most of the time, with scenes barely ending before another begins, and lightning-fast dialogue driving the plot along at an almost hectic rate. At times, it almost trips over itself, blending plot points into each other, racing through the action that it’s easy to miss things. Most of the time though, it’s a pacy, racy tragedy that feels closer to a thriller than anything else.
And maybe otherwise, in creating a modern setting and evoking contemporary parallels throughout, there’s an act of rewriting going on even there. Leslie Travers’ set, a remarkable work of art which looks at first glance like a palatial floor and yet delivers a simply stunning reveal halfway through that’s too good to spoil, sets this all in a contemporary period, while his costumes’ modern royalty and military aesthetics confirm this to be anything but the play’s original Plantagenet setting. Those interested in a closer look will certainly benefit from arriving well in time before the play begins, as you’ll find yourself with an opportunity to explore its details from onstage during a bit of a pre-show.
Artistic Director of the RSC, Daniel Evans, marks his first stage work for the RSC since being appointed to the position. It’s not, as one might expect, as a director, but as an actor. Maybe that was a bit of a risk. But if it was, it was a risk that pays off brilliantly for him. His Edward is immature, jittery, and utterly incapable of leadership, blinded by his love for Gaveston. But out of his blind love comes true passion, with Evans’ commanding central performance developing over the runtime of the play into something really quite remarkable, burning with fury and passion.
Unsurprisingly for a play named after its protagonist, it really is centred quite heavily on Evans’ Edward through its runtime. Eloka Ivo makes for a sexy but sidelined Gaveston whose reciprocated love for Edward is just about believable enough in the small amount of context we get during the opening scenes, while Ruta Gedmintas provides a welcome level of subtlety to her stony-faced Queen Isabella.
But otherwise, the conspirators Mortimer (Enzo Cilenti), Warwick (Geoffrey Lumb) and Lancaster (Evan Milton) spend so much time shrouded in darkness upstage that they blend into each other somewhat, becoming almost genericised ‘conspirators’ lacking some more detail in their characterisations. There’s a tough balance to strike when the text is cut so radically, and there’s certainly benefits in the speedy intensity it creates, but not without drawbacks.
Sometimes, this isn’t really aided by Tim Lutkin’s lighting, which plays much more with darkness than light to give the whole play a particularly murky feel. But while that plays against some moments, Lutkin’s design is terrifically suited to much of the rest of the play, framing much of the action with bars of LEDs to imply we are watching this all play out through a screen, as if a royal scandal is being uncovered in real-time over social media. And when the action descends to the dungeons, the dismalness of it all becomes particularly heightened, turning the fog up and the brightness down to excellent effect.
So while the cutting (or borderline massacring) of the text may create new problems, there’s actually so much that works tremendously here. There’s a powerhouse performance from Daniel Evans at the core here, an actor making his long-overdue return to the stage with a nuanced and detailed performance. There’s aesthetic mastery (and technical wizardry) from Leslie Travers’ immaculate design. There’s fast and vicious action throughout, borne from Daniel Raggett’s whip-smart directorial ability. And frankly, there’s little else needed to make for a haunting and thrilling production of Edward II for the modern day.
Edward II plays at the Swan Theatre until 5th April 2025. Tickets from https://www.rsc.org.uk/edward-ii/
Photos by Helen Murray