Review: Our American Queen (Bridewell Theatre)

Review by Lily Melhuish

⭐️⭐️⭐️

History on stage is always a balancing act: too much fact and you risk a lecture; too much flair and you lose authenticity. Our American Queen, written by Thomas Klingenstein and directed by Christopher McElroen, walks that tightrope with elegance in places, but occasionally stumbles under the weight of the textbook.

Set in Washington, D.C., during the Civil War, the play explores the life of Kate Chase, a woman hailed as “Our American Queen” for her political influence and social prowess. At its heart, this is a story about ambition: Kate’s for her father, Salmon Chase, and Salmon’s for the presidency. Torn between love and power, Kate must choose between John Hay, Lincoln’s private secretary and amateur poet, and a marriage to William Sprague that could secure her father’s political future. It’s an ample premise, rich with potential for political drama and condemned romance.

Wallis Currie-Wood excels as Kate Chase, delivering a performance that oscillates between steely determination and flashes of vulnerability. Her chemistry with Tom Victor’s John Hay is palpable, and their shared love of literature, despite the somewhat heavy handed Great Expectations parallels, provide some of the play’s most tender exchanges. Christy Meyer as Mrs. Eastman is another standout as the largely fictional Mrs Eastman, a widow of whom Mr Chase is courting, who provides the play’s moral compass without feeling too much like a narrative device.

Despite its layered script, the story often feels static. The first half builds toward a meticulously staged dinner, yet the pacing sags under repetitive beats and underdeveloped stakes. The political tension — particularly around the recruitment of Black soldiers — never reaches a dramatic crescendo. Instead, the focus drifts toward a love triangle and familial friction, leaving the play’s central political theme diluted. In making Kate the driving force, Salmon appears no more than a hollow puppet, and it’s hard to grasp the impact of the Chase family as a unit. Without a fully dimensional father, Kate’s sacrifices feel weightier than his ambitions, and the family power axis tilts off balance.

The costumes, designed by Elivia Bovenzi Blitz, are luxurious and meticulously detailed, evoking the grandeur of the era. The set, dominated by an ornate dining table and a framed portrait that doubles as a video screen, is striking at first glance, but ultimately misses the mark. The upstage screen’s use, which alternates between historical imagery of warfare and live-streamed moments of the cast, feels more gimmicky than profound, leaning toward “Instagram Live” rather than immersive theatre. It offers a conceptual juxtaposition with the mahogany politicking at the table, but the symbolism rarely deepens beyond surface contrast. Performed end-on, I can’t help but think the production would have thrived in the traverse, allowing audiences to flank the ornate dining table like opposing factions. As it stands, too many lateral conversations flatten into polite front-facing exchanges, when the material cries out for proximity and political heat. From the second row, I felt oddly detached from the action. 

Technical missteps further disrupt the illusion: scene changes by crew in black jeans, an onstage costume swap assisted by someone seemingly in a lab coat and leopard-print scrunchie, jar against the otherwise period-perfect aesthetic. The pinnacle climax comes when Salmon accuses Kate of acting like a child, to which she swiftly proves him right by grabbing one end of the table cloth and dragging it through the audience, plates and glasses shattering to the floor all the way. What is supposed to be a dramatic moment is immediately ruined by the presence of crew members, brooms in hand, flocking to the stage to clear up the resulting mess. A single hurled glass might have conveyed the same fury without derailing the momentum and exposing the theatre’s risk assessment.

Ultimately, Our American Queen gestures toward big ideas about power, gender, and reputation but never fully commits, leaving us with a story that feels more like a series of elegant tableaux than a compelling political drama. Still, there’s beauty here: in the costumes, in the chemistry between Kate and Hay, and in the fleeting moments where the play whispers its truth that ambition and love rarely walk hand in hand. If you’re drawn to historical drama and lavish design, Our American Queen offers plenty to admire. Just don’t expect a revolution.

Our American Queen plays at Bridewell Theatre until 7th February. Tickets from https://sbf.org.uk/whats-on/view/our-american-queen/

Photos by Lidia Crisafulli