King John (review)

Onstage, three children played: two sat with large chess pieces between them and a third scampered around a toy castle. The pre-show foreshadowed how Blanche, Arthur, and Prince Henry would become pawns caught in political games of intrigue. Suddenly, as electric guitars and drums beat out war sounds, King John and his nobles burst onto the stage, scattering the children. The newly crowned King John threw up his arms in triumph as the court-audience cheered. Tina Packer's direction would prove exuberant, often comic, as the production galloped forward at a vigorous, animated pace.

Since King John is a rarely produced play, Packer needed to make the history behind its action understandable. She did so not only visually, but also by bringing the dialogue alive through three intertwined motifs: children as political tools; political struggle for economic resources and ascendancy; mothers as powers behind the throne. The play revolved around the question of the rightful heir to the throne. Arthur was presented as a frightened child, torn between the two sides; at one point literally shoved between Philip and John, he cringed at becoming king.

The second youngster caught in the political turmoil was Blanche, John's niece. Offered up in marriage to the Dauphin in order to cement an alliance between France and England, Blanche was carried onto the battlefield in a litter, veiled in gold and red. She became the symbolic presence of the feminine and of love in this very masculine war. The scene at the French camp was dominated by a semicircle of pointed lances, an explicit symbol of masculine power, and Blanche's passionate pleading with her new husband to maintain the peace was to no avail as the Church, in the guise of Cardinal Pandulph, threatened to excommunicate the French if they sided with King John. Blanche recognized her status: "Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose."

Figure 1.

L-R Walton Wilson as King Philip of France, Peter Macon (center) as Philip the Bastard, Dave Demke as the Earl of Salisbury, and Allyn Burrows (front right) as King John in Shakespeare & Company's production of King John. Photo by Kevin Sprague.

The third pawn, though not as obvious, was young Prince Henry. After the pre-show scene Henry only appeared once: at the end when he witnessed his father's painful death. Here the lords knelt to the youngster, shouting "God save the king." This last stage image—a young boy whose face betrayed a perplexed expression—indicated that even though England had won this last battle and the defeated French had sailed home, the peace could still be a shaky one. In the end, the audience was left questioning whether there were any winners in these wars.

The relationships between mothers and sons also played a central role in the production. Eleanor, instrumental in putting John on the throne, connived to keep him there. She encouraged the marriage of Blanche and Louis in order to appease the French with lands and nullify Philip's promise to put Arthur on the throne. Eleanor and her son were often seen head-to-head, consulting one another. Frequently, Eleanor stood behind the throne where John was seated. She joined her son on the battlefield, as we saw when she crossed the stage with sword in hand. When the messenger reported her death, Allyn Burrows as John displayed heartfelt mourning for this very influential mother.