Review: RICHARD II, Starring Jonathan Bailey

A nation in need, an unsuitable king, banishments, murders, attempted coups. Richard II has it all and so does Jonathan Bailey. He might be dancing through Hollywood and hanging out with the biggest celebs, but this triumphant return to the stage  proves that he’s still one of us.

Known for his romantic leads, Bailey now takes on a complicated head of state, breaking him open and thinning the lines between divisive, problematic political figure and sardonic, villainous poet. It’s Jonathan Bailey’s world and we’re merely living in it, but Nicholas Hytner’s production sees a five-star cast stuck in a three-star show.

A drastic lack of identity keeps this Richard II moored, making it a standard modern-day adaptation that refuses to delve into anything particular. It’s neither political nor personal enough to leave the same mark that its actors do. There are some clever interpretations, like the gages (gloves thrown in challenge) coming in the shapes of British passports, but they’re drops in an ocean of blandness. Hytner needs to thank the company, his composer, and sound designer: they make the play. 

Bailey is, obviously, the main attraction. His Richard is an accidental politician; he balances his imbalance with blunt sophistication, suffusing his inferiority complex with a bratty attitude. Vain, moody, and a bit all over the place emotionally, he's a monarch by nothing more than the privileges of succession. He rules with fear and cruelty, revelling in the reactions instigated by his power inside a court built on flattery. Bailey has an utterly captivating delivery that twists snakishly, infused at once with sarcasm, pettiness, fury, and comedy. There’s no empathy or sympathy for anyone but himself in his performance, just impatience, insecurity, and an extremely short fuse. There are also plenty of drama queen bursts, like carrying his crown in a plastic bag upon his return from Ireland and what follows.

Enter Henry Bullingbrook, Duke of Hereford and future Henry IV: Royce Pierreson steals the scene. He knows what he’s saying and he recognises the implications for the prospects of his country. Bailey’s Richard lives in relation to Pierreson’s Henry. The King is the bane of his cousin’s existence - Richard would love to live an unexamined life, but his role doesn’t permit it.

A telling moment that summarises their takes happens towards the end, when Richard abdicates. After a comically long push-and-pull that sees Richard Offer the crown to Bullinbrook only to take it back repeatedly, he goes up in his face and, due to the severe height difference, Bailey has to look up and stretch his arms to sit the crown on Pierreson’s head while Bullingbrook remains stoic and impassive all along. A remarkable synergy.

The cast is, surprisingly, very male. Are the days of gender-blind Shakespeare over? Badria Timimi (Bishop of Carlisle), Olivia Popica (Queen Isabel), and Amanda Root (Duchess of York), the only women, are on stage for such a limited amount of time that their contribution is, unfortunately, forgettable. Nonetheless, they’re part of a cohesive ensemble of actors who work in synchrony to lift each other’s performances generously. A few highlights: Phoenix Di Sebastiani’s passionate Mowbray, who crumbles at the thought of losing his language and motherland when he’s banished, and Vinnie Heaven’s Aumerle, who thins the line between cocky courage and meek treason.

The lack of identity in Hytner’s study of the piece surfaces just after the opening, right after Bailey makes a solemn entrance that seeps star power. Dressed in black and gold, he’s proud and sly, ready to act as referee on a long thrust stage with traverse vibes designed by Bob Crowley. Various platforms dress the dark space scantily, while a variety of lighting fixtures descend to give a tad more context to the scenes. The visuals are immediately plain, with furniture going up and down, being removed or prepared noisily, awkwardly under the stage. Moreover, when it comes to costumes, Bailey’s first outfit is as good as it gets. His period-ambiguous three-piece is swiftly engulfed by a boring wardrobe of well-tailored suits, general army gear, and less than imaginative choices.

Moving on, it’s a huge problem when you leave it up to the soundscape to create tension and build an atmosphere. Composer Grant Olding and sound designer Carolyn Downing come together spectacularly, providing an epic, cinematic score that feels more like a proper all-encompassing soundtrack that bookends or accompanies almost every scene. The melodies are heavily reminiscent of the television series Succession: it’s exquisite, but it’s also evident that Hytner relies on them for the outcome of his show.

All in all, while this is the best Richard II we've seen, this isn’t the best Richard II London has ever seen. Bailey is wondrous at playing contradiction and Shakespeare looks really good on him. He shines when he gets the chance to delve into the depths of his character’s psyche and a sizzling magnetism takes over during his soliloquies, giving us a taste of what he could do with a more sombre character and a more secure vision. 

We exit the theatre knowing that Bailey would be an astonishing Henry V and a chilling Hamlet, whilst begging to see what Pierreson might do with Henry IV in the same breath. People will go in to see a star, and that star will deliver. But is that really enough? Are Hytner and the Bridge being a bit complacent after the enormous success of Guys and Dolls?

Richard II runs at the Bridge Theatre until 10 May

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