Free Richard II by William Shakespeare Page B

not to be looked upon without commiseration and pity. The Nemesis of his own folly has brought him so utterly low, his fantastic nature is so acutely sensitive, his will so impotent, his dejection so complete, that sympathy turns against the more manly Bolingbroke, and perhaps does him wrong. 13
    As well as establishing the role of Richard II as a key showcase for major actors, the production’s revival in 1901 as part of Stratford’s “Week of Kings” reestablished the play as part of a historical sequence. Benson’s performances in the role continued until 1915.
    John Gielgud dominated both role and play on the early twentieth-century London stage. From his first performance, directed by Harcourt Williams at the Old Vic in 1929, “Gielgud focused on superb delivery of verse, perhaps emphasising Richard as pathetic, and certainly a man unfitted for the demanding duties of a ruler.” 14 However, other aspects of the production impressed less.
The Times
remarked that “many of the parts, and many far above the rank of the grooms and servants, are played badly and, what is worse, listlessly,” singling out Brember Wills’ Gaunt: “let us have stillness sometimes: let us have firmness and splendour, not the nervous, bubbling senility of a dotard.” 15 Gielgud performed and directed at the Queen’s in 1937, and in 1953 directed Paul Scofield at the Lyric Hammersmith, in a performance “strangely different from the others we have seen … the actor presents to us a mask of celestial composure in which two half-closed eyes glitter with inscrutable menace.” 16
    If Gielgud dominated the play in London, in Stratford-upon-Avon it was the property of W. Bridges Adams. Between 1920 and 1930 Adams moved through a succession of Richards, culminating in George Hayes (1929). Adams’ medieval costumes were singled out for praise, and the combination of modest historical spectacle with strong ensemble performances contributed to the growing appreciation of the play. Hayes continued to play Richard for Tyrone Guthrie (1933, “an inherently dull play” 17 ), B. Iden Payne (1941, with Richard’s “uncanny dignity” 18 foremost) and Robert Atkins (1944), in which a “vision scene” 19 at Richard’s death was particularly praised, the dungeon wall dissolving behind the body as a choir sang to reveal Bullingbrook as the new king.
    Hal Burton’s direction of Robert Harris in 1947 was praised for reviving the quality of the artist in Richard that Benson had emphasized, although some reviewers still worked from Victorian criteria: “It achieves distinction because of its dignity, its pageantry, its beauty of outline and of detail and its admirably controlled lighting.” 20 Far more influential was Michael Redgrave’s performance in 1951 under the direction of Anthony Quayle, who directed the entire second tetralogy as part of Stratford’s contribution to the Festival of Britain. Redgrave’s performance in the role, remembered by Laurence Olivier as an “out-and-out pussy queer,” 21 was greeted with mixed reviews by critics unable—or unwilling—to acknowledge the character’s homosexuality, and confused by a mixture of lyricism and cruelty. Alan Dent suggested that “we found ourselves watching the excellent Bolingbroke (Harry Andrews), instead of the King, for in this Bolingbroke’s eyes lurked an infinity of contemptuous patience while he heeded Richard’s elaborately fanciful speeches.” 22 The challenges of
Richard II
here shifted from the politics of state to the politics of sexuality, with lasting effect; by the time Ian McKellen performed both Richard II and Edward II to great acclaim for the Prospect Theatre Company in 1968–69, critics read a homosexual agenda into the play even though, as Margaret Shewring suggests, this was not actually intended by the company. 23

    2. A queenly king? Michael Redgrave (left) with Harry Andrews as Bullingbrook in Anthony Quayle’s 1951 production.
    Despite its early