Elizabeth Rex: The Body of a Woman, the Heart of a King

When she stood before her troops before they set out to fight the Spanish Armada, Queen Elizabeth I assured her men that she was strong enough for warfare. "I may have the body of a weak and feeble women," she famously declared, "but I have the heart and stomach of a king." Eight years ago, the late playwright Timothy Findley took her at her word and created Elizabeth Rex, a fascinating play that examines gender roles as much as it plays "What-If" with history. The play opened to rave reviews at the Stratford Festival of Canada in 2000, and went on to win numerous accolades and awards. Despite its success, however, it has enjoyed relatively few productions, and is only now arriving in New York, courtesy of Nicu's Spoon.

  Nicu's Spoon was founded to promote non-traditional casting in challenging plays. This season's theme is "Women & Gender," which fits Elizabeth Rex perfectly. In the play, Findley takes a true historical moment and translates it into a modern context. In 1601, Robert Devereaux, the Earl of Essex, mounted a failed campaign against Queen Elizabeth, and was swiftly condemned as a traitor. This was famously heartbreaking for the Queen, as Essex had been one of her favorites at court, and may even have been her lover. On the night before the execution, Elizabeth commanded Shakespeare's acting troop—the Lord Chamberlain's Men—to perform for her as a distraction. History does not recall which play she demanded, but for the purposes of his play, Findley chose Much Ado About Nothing, as Elizabeth probably would have loved the character of Beatrice. The drama of the play begins when Elizabeth arrives in the barn where the actors are staying for the night, and finds them already mourning their leading "lady," Ned, who is dying of syphilis. Ned has given up everything about him that is masculine in order to effectively play women, just as Elizabeth gave up everything about her that was feminine to be a strong ruler. Realizing this, the two strike a bargain: "If you will teach me how to be a woman," Elizabeth says to Ned in the play's most famous line, "I will teach you how to be a man."

What precedes and follows this line is one of the most unabashedly emotional, intense and intellectual plays in recent memory. As the night drags on and the execution draws nearer, Ned and the Queen test and torment each other to find hidden strengths and emotions. The greatest beauty of Findley's script is in the poetic language and in the raw emotions, which make any attempts at overacting disastrous. And therein lies the biggest problem inNicu's Spoon's production: while there are moments of great beauty, other moments are so overplayed that they lose their intensity, and just when breathtakingly dramatic moment reaches its peak, it teeters into melodrama. Joanne Zipay's direction seems somewhat tentative, and for every bullseye she scores, she misses another. Ultimately, the production is disappointingly uneven, and never really finds its emotional base.

The leading actors in the large ensemble are a study in contradictions. As the Queen, Stephanie Barton-Farcas never quite seems fully regal, often hissing where it seems she should roar. But she does radiate a quiet strength that serves many scenes well, and when she does finally find her voice, she is truly formidable and majestic. Inversely, as Ned, Michael Digioia shouts and over-enunciates his words where he might speak quietly, but gets the heart of the character in Act II when he stops overacting and simply plays the character with poignant honesty. As Shakespeare, Scott Nogi is witty and winsome, but never quite captures the torment and heartbreak that rages beneath the character's glib surface. Faring better with smaller roles, Andrew Hutcheson is a smart and dry Jack Edmond, a defiant Irish actor, and Merle Louise is a powerfully quiet presence as the Countess of Henslowe. (For some reason, several of the actors speak with fluctuating English accents that don't really seem necessary. They sound much more natural and comfortable in their own voices.) Rien Schlecht's costumes and John Trevellini's set are simple and effective, and Steven Wolf's lighting make this the brightest barn in all of England.

Nicu's Spoon may well be one of the most heart-full production companies in New York. Their mission to open up challenging plays to diverse casts is immensely praiseworthy, and if Elizabeth Rex isn't all it might have been, they are still the first company in New York with the courage to take on this difficult play. That alone speaks volumes about them.


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