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<b>by Harley Granville Barker, directed by Neil Munro
Shaw Festival, Court House Theatre, Niagara-on-the-Lake
July 6-September 21, 2002
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"Majesty Lost and Found"
"His Majesty" is the seventh and last in the Shaw Festival's series of plays by Shaw's contemporary Harley Granville Barker (1877-1946). The Shaw is only the second company in the world to have presented Barker's oeuvre for the stage and one doubts if any other company has the expertise to have done them so well. "His Majesty" is not as great a work as "Waste", "The Voysey Inheritance" or "The Madras House". It is both difficult and problematic. But the effort it takes to get into the play is ultimately rewarded and the play's questioning whether politics and war ever serve the public good is uncomfortably relevant.
The Shaw Festival production is the North American première of Barker's final play. It was first published in 1928 and was not produced until 1992 at the Edinburgh Festival. This is only its second production. How much different its production history would be if had been done at the Malvern Festival in 1929 as Shaw had wanted we'll never know. The calibre of the direction and acting in the present production is so high that it throws into relief the difficulties inherent in the play itself.
The action concerns the power struggle to reinstate Henry, the exiled king of the fictional country of Carpathia. As the Festival programme helpfully informs us, the story Henry and his queen Rosamund are closely based on real events in the lives of Charles I and Zita, the last Emperor and Empress of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Barker's technique in his three greatest plays is to make the universal shine through a realism built up of minute detail. Unlike the fictional Madras House based on the real Liberty of London, here Barker has to struggle to make his operetta country of Carpathia seem real so that we take its events seriously. The result is massive amounts of exposition explaining the history, politics, geography and economy of Carpathia that overwhelms any similar exposition involving the main characters. Besides this, most of the events that determine the characters' actions are, until late in the play, described rather than presented.
All this would seem like a recipe for tedium were it not for the galvanizing influence of the director and actors who do their utmost to wrench this awkward beast to life. That they succeed to well is a major tribute to their talent. They help us see the people and issues amidst the forest of detail.
Chief among these are David Schurmann as Henry and Mary Haney as Rosamund. Schurman has played many characters like this before, good men who long for peace and civility but who are entangled in a world of hatred and deceit. His Henry is the man who would not be king. Schurmann's mastery of tone and the precision of his phrasing and gestures bring out the sense of futility Henry feels in continuing a charade he no longer believes in. Haney's character is just the opposite. Rosamund wants Henry to leave exile, fight with those already struggling on his behalf and to enter the capital in triumph at any cost. Her frustration with her husband's equanimity leads her bribery in the play's most dramatic scene and eternal regret. Haney is expert at depicting a woman so obsessed with her dream that she cannot accept reality until her own actions force it upon her.
Sharry Flett plays the Countess Czernyak, in whose ruined villa Henry and Rosamund stay while deciding what action to take. The Countess is many ways the emotional centre of the play. Her son Stephen is the main fighter against the usurpers, but she, to Rosamund's consternation, says she will never rebuild her villa. Flett is radiant as woman who has come to terms with the forces of destruction, whose stoicism helps her maintain her integrity in the face of chaos. The Countess's comic counterpart is Colonel Hadik, now her gardener. He, too, is happy to accept a simpler life without pomp. Richard Farrell fully mines the subtle comedy of a man who is happier in his menial labour than he ever was as a commander. Colonel Guastalla, the king's own attaché, is another character who is content serve even if it means, comically, a constant change of costume to suit his public and private roles. Lorne Kennedy's dry delivery is perfect for a man for whose loyalty and efficiency have subsumed his identity.
Even King Henry's opponents have an aura of fatalism about them. Dr. Madrassy and Mr. Bruckner seek to take over Carpathia because the opportunity is there. They fight to maintain their power but have no illusions that winning is assured or will last. Michael Ball's Madrassy is a talker who thinks he is a realist though he is not quite aware of his essential cowardice. George Dawson's Bruckner is self-confessed opportunist whose nastiness is tempered by gentlemanly behaviour so that even when Rosamund bribes him he is compelled to leave her no illusions about what may happen.
Those most unquestioning about the worth of patriotism are the young, whether the hotheaded Stephen Czernyak (Ben Carlson) or his quiet but intense sister Dominica (Severn Thompson). Barker includes the chipper British pilot Captain Dod (Jeff Meadows) to satirize his countrymen's lack of concern for anything not British (though ultimately even he is affected).
The luxurious casting has a host of Shaw regulars in a number of very small roles. Most notable of these are Terrence Bryant as the befuddled Count Zapolya, Robert Benson as an American journalist tired of Europe, William Vickers as the Mayor of Zimony who wants to see what he can get out of the war, Peter Krantz as the rebellious Sergeant-Major Bakay, Anthony Bekenn as the British consul Sir Charles Cruwys willing to resettle the fugitive royals in Bermuda and Roger Rowland as Jakab, a farmer who wants a medal from the king for his services even if the king's lack of power renders it meaningless.
Designer Sue LePage's set and 1920's costumes, especially under Ereca Hassell's muted lighting give the impression of sepia-toned prints come to life. Paul Sportelli's music carefully reinforces the tension between past and future by contrasting mazurkas with jazz. Director Neil Munro ensures that the committed performances of the cast draw us in to the action despite the hurdles Barker has set up. There is perhaps more humour in the work than Munro brings out, but in his hands the themes of the play shine clearly.
One can't help thinking that play about loss, acquiescence and the farewell to state and glory is also Barker's farewell to the stage. Trying at times though the play is, anyone who makes the effort will find the play (and the production) redolent with meaning. In saying farewell, Barker examines the meaning of action in the world, the role of artifice, the belief in permanence and the question of what gives life majesty. The Shaw Festival is in large part responsible for the revival of Barker's fortunes. Now that its series is completed, I'd like to see it all over again.
©Christopher Hoile
Note: This review is a <i>Stage Door</i> exclusive.
Photo: David Schurmann as the King. ©2002 Andrée Lanthier.
<b> 2002-08-21</b>
<b>His Majesty</b>