The Pacific Conservatory Theatre (PCPA) begins its current production with the haunting specters of victims already laid waste at the hand of the titular character, Richard III, who allude to the division within the British Monarchical class, the House of Lancaster and the House of York. The two families are signified with roses of differing hues, red for Lancaster and white for York, with flowers of both wreathing the stage, strapped to wooden embattlements.
Their proclamation ends with reference to one member of the House of York, the brother of King Edward IV, named Richard, Duke of Gloucester (Andy Philpot) who appears suddenly among the ominous wrought iron set piece that resembles turrets and towers. To a disturbingly discordant and industrial soundtrack, Richard descends from the tower and limps his way to center stage.
The character is afflicted with a serious handicap, scoliosis, as was the historical figure, and Philpot is not reserved in his treatment of Richard’s twisted frame. Even though he is so gnarled, Richard still holds himself with the superiority of a noble, though his intentions are far from so. He entreats the audience with a soliloquy directed through the fourth wall, telling us exactly what he means, sharing his poisonous outlook and nefarious schemes.
There has been much warring between the divided houses of the monarchy, and though Richard’s brother, the King Edward IV (Erik Stein) currently holds the throne, it’s not clear that his health will hold out. Next in line to the throne is their brother, the Duke of Clarence (Mark Booher), whom Richard meets under armed guard, on the way to his imprisonment. The two enjoy a heartfelt exchange, but it’s entirely feigned by Richard, who reveals in a following soliloquy that he framed his brother with the brand of treason, and makes no secret what he plans to do to his own kin on his quest for the throne.
Another revealing scene comes during a funeral procession. Lady Anne (Karin Hendricks) walks before the casket holding her murdered husband, Prince Edward. Richard killed Edward and his father, Henry VI, and over the former’s coffin Lady Anne curses Richard and any who would love him. Richard injects himself into the scene to implore her for that which she just cursed, her love for him, declaring his for her. In an incredible sparring match of barbed verbiage, impassioned curses, and masterful manipulation, Richard wins her over as his wife.
This is a character without shame, and Philpot revels in the evil and villainy with comedic panache, bringing laughter and gasps alike from the audience. It’s difficult to explain how verses penned centuries ago can roll with spontaneous ease from the tongue of an actor like Philpot, who conveys their true meaning in more ways than one, but it’s the magic dragon that all actors hope to chase.
When the rest of the players come in, the story accelerates, the drama escalates, the death toll rises, and all the while Richard feigns compassion or despair over the bloody turn of events. But there are those who see through him. In a fantastically vitriolic performance, Kitty Balay enters as Queen Margaret, widow of King Henry VI, who not only curses the whole house of York, but also specifically singles out Richard, calling him a number of hateful slurs that only Shakespeare could convey. She also warns that King Edward will die, and warns his soon-to-be widow, Queen Elizabeth (Elizabeth Stuart), that she will live to see her children dead, as Margaret has had to endure.
The drama is heightened at every turn by the incredible work of PCPA’s production team. The stark and metallic set by Jason Bolen conveys the superficial and even decrepit nature of what the characters are fighting for: an already aged institution long tarnished by the inequities of its occupants. The lighting design work of Jennifer Zornow speaks volumes as well, often focusing the audience on so many subtleties of plot and character. With so much going on in the shadows, dark and light provide the story with lurid detail.
It would be criminal to neglect how elegant and informative the costume design of Eddy L. Barrows is in PCPA’s Richard III. Philpot is given a militaristic character at Barrows’ hand, standing out from the rest of the noble class, who are all done up in suits and fancy ball gowns. The indeterminate time period the costumes detail takes nothing away, but only adds. The hierarchy is illustrated full well by the flowing, plush cape of the king, all the way down to the military fatigues of the foot soldiers.
Underscoring the play is the discordant and rhythmically irregular music guided by sound designer Andrew Mark Willhelm, who also imbues the ghostly wraiths of Richard’s victims with disembodied voices chilling to the bone. There are a few fantastic bursts of violence on stage, which are choreographed with precision by PCPA Artistic Director Mark Booher, who must have enjoyed crafting his own character’s death. A number of fantastic performances have gone unmentioned here, only because of room, but resident artists George Walker, Leo Cortez, Polly Firestone Walker, and Matt Koenig have plenty of to be proud of as well, as do the rest of the players.
Director Robynn Rodriguez’s presence permeates the production as a whole, like an invisible guiding hand. Shakespeare is Rodriguez’s bread and butter, and her familiarity with PCPA—which goes all the way back to her time as a student beginning in 1978—intimates why this rendition of Richard III feels so natural, so seamless, and at the same time so modern. Shakespeare never ages, not so long as you have theater companies like PCPA dedicated to work of the Bard.
Arts Editor Joe Payne is reading up on the history of the British Monarchy. Contact him at [email protected].
