There’s something seriously wrong when a piece celebrated as a showcase for theatrical fireworks and witty one-liners is played as angst-ridden, slice-of-life drama.
This, judging by the April 11 opening-night performance, is a fate that has befallen the White Rock Players Club’s production of The Lion In Winter (running to April 28 at Coast Capital Playhouse).
As a proven stage vehicle, with some fine actors in leading roles – and a veteran director at the helm – the club’s 2012 Theatre B.C. entry seems a good bet. But whether by accident or design, over-thinking or under-thinking, director Dale Kelly appears to have almost completely misread James Goldman’s 1966 script.
The playwright’s self-described ‘Comedy in Two Acts’ is a cheekily impertinent retelling of history, a 12th century battle of wits and wills to determine the royal succession waged between King Henry II, his estranged wife Eleanor of Aquitaine – and three distinctly unlovable sons – at a Christmas court at Chinon.
Rescued from obscurity as a Broadway also-ran by a classic film version with Katherine Hepburn and Peter O’Toole, The Lion In Winter has long been famed as an exercise in snap-crackle-pop verbal sparring, and all the joys of guile and shifting loyalties.
Practically all such potential is missed in this version, which lacks pace, timing, light and shade, and flattens almost every vestige of humour with the blunt force of a battleaxe connecting with a breastplate.
Kelly, sadly, seems determined to cast the audience as eavesdroppers at a private, and mostly tedious, family ritual. His decision to underplay dulls every theatrical effect implicit in the script, and in some scenes the low-key acting of Ben Odberg (Henry) and Glen Surzyshyn (scheming son Geoffrey) is so intimate as to be virtually inaudible. The latter, with long tendrils of hair brushed down into his eyes and over his face, seems to be trying his best to be invisible, too.
There’s not much to like about the sons, but we should at least be able to enjoy the characters’ flaws: the deviousness of Geoffrey, the musclebound bone-headedness of Richard the Lionheart (Bryce Mills) or the whiny uselessness of Prince John (Keaton Mazurek). Unfortunately, their playing remains mostly on one level, denying us much chance to delight in the sheer awfulness of the characters.
This odd reluctance to enlist the sympathies of the audience starts early. The first scene, a conversation between Henry and his much younger mistress, Alais Capet (Elise Maloway) – which should have given us some piquant sense of her testing his affections, as well as establishing the premise of family intrigue – is flatly delivered, and Henry, overall, comes across less wily than weary.
Maloway’s performance is always sincere, and well-projected; while Lori Tych, a first-class actor, has some fine moments as the still razor sharp, still beautiful Eleanor. But though she does everything but stand on her head to bring some life to the play, she’s offered precious little in return, and by the time the show – and her personal war with Henry – develops some momentum in the second act, it’s far too late for the audience to care.
Kelly has done even more damage to the play with a brutal piece of miscasting. David Quast (as Philip II, King of France) may be a fine and capable actor under other circumstances, but there is no way on God’s green earth he can convince anyone he’s an 18-year-old boy – which means most of Philip’s scenes with Henry and Richard, as written, don’t make any sense.
Before letters of outrage come pouring in, I know only too well the sacrifice and hard work that volunteer actors, directors and crew contribute to community theatre. I’ve been there myself – for the Players Club and other groups – and my hat is, automatically, off to those who have the guts and gumption to put themselves forward and enrich our lives with live theatre.
That said, we must remember that adjudicated Theatre B.C. zone festivals exist not merely to reward participation, but to celebrate excellence in the field. Also deserving of consideration are those who are asked to contribute $15-$17 per ticket for each show.
In the case of the Players Club’s last production, Drinking Alone, they got their money’s worth. On the strength of the opening night performance of The Lion In Winter, it’s hard to argue the expense is justified, and the desultory applause from the majority of the audience at the end would seem to bear this out.
