It wasn't just that King Edward II was homosexual - gay monarchs have reigned capably in all countries of the world since the dawn of time - but he couldn't keep his personal life from interfering with his job. Lavishing expensive gifts - including several privileged government titles (after dispensing with their rightful owners) - on one's paramour is certain to breed civil animosity, leading to savage retributions beyond the boundaries observed by a legal and humane society.
Christopher Marlowe was as insolent as his play's hero; however, so it's small wonder that his bloody and sexually charged biodrama went largely unproduced after its premiere circa 1592. But in The Troublesome Reign and Lamentable Death of Edward II, King of England, with the Tragical Fall of Proud Mortimer, director Sean Graney has never lacked in audacity either, making for a decidedly unscholarly approach to this neglected classic.
For starters, he's reconfigured Chicago Shakespeare's black-box upstairs auditorium into a plaza, the various playing areas arranged along its perimeter. Audience members, according to the admission price they paid, may view the performance from a gallery above what resembles a mosh pit, or group themselves inside the courtyard - standing or sitting, as they choose, but prepared to make room whenever and wherever the play's action may require. Thus our perspective, both dramatic and physical, is kept constantly shifting.
Far from being a distraction, however, this proximity heightens our perception of a story already steeped in emotional intensity. Graney has axed the text down to a mere 75 minutes while instructing his players to abandon any restraints of academic reverence or rarefied aesthetics and to, instead, give free expression to full-blown, operatic-sized passion. Queen Isabella shrieks in fury at her indifferent husband, Gaveston swaggers through the palace in RuPaul drag, Edward receives the news of his lover's death while lounging on a swaying platform suspended from the ceiling, its agitation echoing his mental anguish. Even witnesses seated safely distant from the gruesome spectacle were heard to gasp in horror at the center-stage replication of Edward's assassination in a manner (recorded by history) coming uncomfortably close to forcible rape.
Tall and agile playgoers will emerge with the most comprehensive account of the proceedings. But whatever each individual's prospect amid the nebulous sight-lines, the trials of England's royal families and the terrible inheritance of its too-young successor to the throne cannot help but awaken in us the pity and fear engendered by tragedy at its most powerful.
