Jonathan Bailey brings a wonderful clarity and charisma to this tale of a misbehaving, queer-coded despot in Richard II

Independent

18-02-2025

Right now, accusations of ill-advised stunt casting are being flung at the West End, but Nicholas Hytner' s take on Shakespeare 's corrupt king Richard II is innocent of these charges, at least. Although he's fresh from stealing the limelight in Wicked, star Jonathan Bailey has been landing big stage roles since he was in literal primary school, and he brings a wonderful clarity and charisma to this tale of a misbehaving, queer-coded despot.
This is a play that's rich with chewy metaphors and Bailey relishes them, delighting in extravagant speeches as much as he does in the circlet of gold that rings his head – which is to say, a little too much. With an infectious spirit of camp naughtiness, he hugs his crown like a teddy bear, aims wry put-downs at dull courtiers, and bosses his court around like they're actors in a play – when Mowbray (Phoenix Di Sebastiani) and Bullingbrook quarrel (Royce Pierreson), he bids them settle their differences with their shirts off, muscles glistening, and steals an intense kiss from the latter. When he warns them 'never to embrace each other's love in banishment', they exchange a knowing look.
The homoerotic playfulness of these early scenes soon curdles into something sickening. Richard II is an exploration of the limits of power, examining whether someone who abuses their position should be overthrown, even if that means parting ways with the rule of law. 'You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,' the Duke of York (Michael Simkins) warns his king, as Bailey chomps on boiled sweets like he's watching a particularly boring movie. Soon, things get real. Disgruntled courtiers are plotting in the rubbish-strewn mud of this play's rather jaundiced vision of Gloucestershire (no doubt the tourist board is writing in), ready to drag their leader into the dirt. Shakespeare's non-partisan approach gives Richard and his rival to the throne, Bullingbrook, near-equal moral claims to the throne. Here, Hytner sets them up as opposites: as Bullingbrook, Pierreson has a rugged, rough-handed integrity, a solid contrast to flighty Richard, who responds to the threat by taking refuge in the divine trappings of royalty.
In a standout moment, Hytner makes Bailey ascend to the theatre's balcony where he positions himself among (no doubt thrilled) audience members in a golden spotlight – out of reach of his furious detractors. Other choices feel less successful, as when Hytner raids his Big Boy's Box of Theatrical Toys to stage the war scenes, dragging on a massive cannon that does very little, and making the audience blink with a spectacular but oddly timed artillery light show.
It's the speeches, not the fireworks, that really dazzle here. Hytner's decades of directing experience shine through this cast's universally strong renditions of Shakespeare's verse, bringing an acidic zing to words that otherwise could feel rich and stodgy. Similarly, his subtle reframing of some scenes makes them feel strikingly modern. Richard II's (implied) lover Aumerle is beautifully rendered by trans actor Vinnie Heaven, who sits round a farmhouse wooden table with their disgruntled home counties parents, looking as sheepish and defiant as a drag performer who's home for Christmas. But who wouldn't fall under the spell of this captivating king? Bailey lights up Hytner's lucid production of a strange but infinitely satisfying play.