selenak

jesuswasbatman asked me about Shakespeare productions that have remained with me. I’m going to define this as „stage productions“ , because movies are a different medium and work with different premises. Though I will include some filmed stage productions.

1.) The Tempest, Stratford 2006.
Prospero: Patrick Stewart.

What remains with me: the shamanistic Antarctica setting, the half-mad Prospero who really has to work for sanity and forgiveness both, the incredible moment with Ariel and the way Stewart played the long silence before „and mine shall!“ (re: whether Prospero will forgive his enemies whom he’s trapped).

Evening came, and with it one of my reasons for this journey: The Tempest, performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company, with Patrick Stewart as Prospero. “Young audience,” Dad said, once we had sat down in row C. By which it turned out he meant “people dressed in jeans” – he pointed out the tipsy crowd at the races had been way better dressed. I said this was Britain, where they wear jeans in theatres. Well, occasionally. Anyway, by the end of the evening, my father had deduced he had seen this Stewart fellow before and asked me distrustfully: “How old is he? He must be at least 70 if he was in you-know-what!”

The production had put the island from the Bermudas to some undefined near arctic place which worked amazingly well. It brought the dangers of a shipwreck and the lack of comfort and indeed danger of losing your life home in a way no Caribean-looking island could have, plus it subtly evoked Shackleton and/or Scott. What made the concept genius, though, was the Inuit connection and the idea of making the magic of the drama shamanistic. Patrick Stewart played Prospero as a shaman driven half-mad by his exile. Both his own ability for cruelty – viz a viz Caliban – and the fact he needs healing as much as anything else and gets it through what happens came across in a way I had not seen in an on-stage production of the Tempest before.

The central scene: Ariel’s claim that if Prospero saw Antonio, Alonso & Sebastiano, he’d be moved to pity, was countered by Prospero saying not thoughtfully, as I have seen it performed before, but angrily “dost thou think so?”, and then, when Ariel simply replied he’d be, if he was human, you got the shattering, the slow working through forgiveness, the realization he can, indeed, forgive, and Patrick Stewart did that all with his facial expressions before he finally said “and mine shall”. It was an extended silence which never was long because the audience was so entirely caught up in what was going on with Prospero.

Now I have seen male and female Ariels on stage, but never one so elementary, so not-human. What I said about how well the shamanistic background worked holds doubly true for Ariel: the scene where Antonio, Sebastiano and Alonso get tricked with food that then is spoiled by a harpy and vanishes usually comes across as something of a farce, but in this production the scene went like this: the three ghosts assisting Ariel – who functioned as a choir in other scenes and also were brilliant in the masque for Ferdinand and Miranda later – brought in a dead dolphin or mini whale, with one cut letting out blood, to the beat of drums but in silence otherwise. After initial hesitation, Antonio, Sebastiano and Alonso started to cut into the whale/dolphin, getting blood on their hands and on their mouth. And then Ariel broke out directly from the dead animal body, as part of it, all blood and bones himself. Instead of a tired old laugh, this got the audience to feel terror and shock just as the guilty trio had to. Finally, once the three have run off crazed, Prospero speaks his final pre-curtain words about having all his enemies at his power, and as he touches the fish, his hands are now bloody as well.

Other images which will remain with me: Prospero’s conjuring of his power „ye elves etc.“, going from the enjoyment of his magic to the promise to abandon it, and here Stewart didn’t go into a best-of-Shakespeare recital of one of the more famous monologues but managed to make Prospero a counterpoint to Faust. He’s in despair and tears, lying on the floor in classic penitent pose when he comes to “I’ll drown my books, I’ll break my staff”, and you feel it’s not just a sacrifice to Prospero but the penitence for his own guilt which he has to go through. Then there’s Antonio not accepting the offer of reconciliation – the director clearly read W.H. Auden – and Prospero forgiving him anyway, which reminded me that this must be the only time where an unrepentant Shakespearean villain gets forgiven. And it’s important that Prospero does that, because the production parallels his own actions towards Caliban with what Antonio did to him.

2. Antony and Cleopatra, also Stratford 2006.
Antony: Patrick Stewart. Cleopatra: Harriet Walter.

What remains with me: Harriet Walter actually pulling off making the constant moodswings enchanting instead of annoying and making true the „age cannot wither her infinite variety“ claim; the sizzling chemistry between her and Patrick Stewart, who played Antony with awareness of his own decay and yet also full of life and so charming you understood why so many people cared. Antony flirting with everyone, including Octavius (just to mess with his mind, he kisses him on the lips on the drunken revels chez Sextus Pompeius), who in this production wasn’t the usual coldly Machiavellian interpretation, but someone disturbed by his own feelings for Antony who felt himself jilted along with his sister. „I am dying, Egypt, dying“ spoken with that voice.

Our second RSC evening in Stratford offered Antony and Cleopatra, with Patrick Stewart as Antony and Harriet Walter as Cleopatra, this time in the “Swan” as opposed to the RSC main theatre. We had another good seat, not as far in front as the last time, row J, but considering the stage is in the middle and the rows surround it, we could see very well anyway, and more than once actors passed us on their way on stage, including Patrick Stewart. The AP, who is opposed to modern dress productions, was delighted that this one wasn’t one of them. I’m neutral on the subject with a slight preference to costumes, but I must say, I do think they were very fitting here. Though I have never seen the play on stage before, just a tv version a long time ago. I was amazed how many of the quick scenery changes which when reading the play I had assumed would come across as distracting and clumsy did just smoothly follow each other and resulted in an harmonious whole.

Patrick Stewart wasn’t the only actor who also is performing in The Tempest this season – Antonio played Enobarbus, Sebastiono played Octavius, Gonzalo played Lepidus, etc. Which didn’t distract – you believed eveyone in their respective roles, and I wouldn’t have recognized the actor playing Octavius at all if I hadn’t looked him up in the program. He did something interesting with the part, and so did the direction – instead of just coldly Machiavellian and/or coldly dignified, this Octavius was also high strung nervous and disturbed by his feelings for Antony. Who as played by Patrick Stewart wasn’t unlike a jaded and older version of Captain Jack Harkness, i.e. he flirted (at least a bit) with everything that had a pulse, and during the drunken festivities chez Sextus Pompejus either to mess with Octavius’ mind or just for the heck of it did kiss him briefly on the mouth. Which made Octavius’ fight against him later not just about power but because he felt himself jilted along with his sister; his reaction after Antony’s death didn’t come across as hypocritical but as genuine, because it was the result of an attraction he couldn’t admit.

But of course the heart of the play were the two lovers. Harriet Walter was amazing as Cleopatra; when reading the play, I thought this must be such a tough part to play, with the constant mood changes having to come across as irresistable instead of annoying, and she pulled it off completely. When Enobarbus said about her “age does not wither etc” you really believed him because you had seen Walter as Cleopatra before, and she had that “infinite variety”. It didn’t hurt that the chemistry between her and Patrick Stewart was sizzling, either. As for his Antony, he brought across both the hedonistic side and the charme and the awareness of his own decay, and then the shattering realization after the battle of Actium. You rolled your eyes about Antony occasionally, but you did understand why so many people cared for him. My father declared he thought Stewart as better as Antony than he had been as Prospero which I don’t think – plus the parts are too different to compare – but anyway, Dad was deeply impressed and is understanding of my fangirlism now.

The handmaidens Iras and Charmian weren’t a twin act but distinct personalities which is a rare thing. The production also used the invititation the play offers to go musical – there was song and dance both in Alexandria and as mentioned before during the Roman banquet, and it contributed to the atmosphere, coming across as more authentic than many a Hollywoodian dance. For these two theatre evenings alone, the trip to England would so have been worth it!

3. Hamlet, Stratford 2008
Hamlet: David Tennant. Claudius: Patrick Stewart.

This production was later filmed, but the filmed version is lacking several key elements imo – the audience reaction, for starters (Gregory Doran, who directed this and later directed DT in Richard II as well, seems to share my opinion and on the audio commentary for Richard says that’s why they filmed a live stage performance in the later case rather than try to redo the whole thing on a studio stage which is what they did with Hamlet. More specifically, the filmed version ruins one of my favourite moments that has remained with me because of the way the camera is positioned. To wit: the long look between Claudius and Hamlet after Claudius has gotten up during The Mousetrap, the terrible joy in Hamlet’s face at that moment. (In the filmed version, Tennant’s face is mostly covered by Stewart’s, and so you get Claudius looking but not Hamlet’s returning gaze and expression.

Other things that remained with me: how suspenseful and often funny the production felt. Ophelia in her madness being full of rage, not whimsy. Tennant as the only Hamlet who didn’t come across as insufferable and/or mocking Laertes‘ grief in the grave scene. Stewart’s performance of Claudius‘ prayer, and the way the production used it as a cliffhanger before the break (the photo from that moment, Hamlet with the knife in the hand over a praying Claudius, looks goofy because Hamlet is wearing the player king’s crown, but believe me, on stage it was breathtaking).

I made it to Stratford without a problem, reunited with

bimo, and spent the rest of the afternoon strolling through Stratford and chatting.

Now, the production takes place in the Courtyard, which was packed. We had gallery seats, but, I’m happy to report, could see the actors’ expressions superbly, save for the occasional time when the crown lustres hid their heads. The crownlustres being one of the few bits of set decorations that existed; mainly it was just the black stage and the mirror-wall behind, where both Polonius and Claudius hid at various times. In the closet scene, when Hamlet hears Polonius, the mirror gets smashed and remains so for the reminder of the production.

Costume-wise, it was modern contemporary dress, except for the ghost, who was in medieval armour, and the play-within-a-play, which took place in elaborate Elizabethan costumes, with the player queen being indeed a young man. And while we’re talking looks, since I know certain people on my list really need to know: David Tennant’s hair starts out well-combed and moderate for the second scene where Claudius holds his speech and starts going wild immediately after he hears about the ghost, remaining wild for the rest of the production. Clearly, this is no BBC special effect. *g * (He also spent most of the play barefoot – as described by Ophelia – which made me think of versaphile, who knows why.)

Hamlet can be an incredibly suspenseful play if you let it, and this production did; they basically played it as a psychological thriller, no allusions to contemporary politics, though Fortinbras’ people in the two brief scenes we saw them in wore army uniforms. Patrick Stewart doing double duty as the Ghost and Claudius worked amazingly well; considering that he wore evening dress as Claudius and had a fake beard and hair and the armour as the ghost, and had to change from one into the other at the opening of the play fairly quickly, he must be really fast with the costuem changes. He played Claudius as a restrained, dignfied statesman early on, with the affectionate looks and gestures making clear the bond with Gertrude; the first crack during the performance of The Mousetrap, the play within a play, was played quite different from other productions. He didn’t fly into a rage/or panic but got up, crossed the stage to go to Hamlet, looked at him intently (and this was an incredibly intense scene, with Hamlet looking back in an ecstatic, terrible joy, but I’ll get to DT in a moment) and after that tense held silence left. Then later when Claudius is alone, his breakdown and the “Oh my offense is rank, it smells to heaven!” speech is all the more startling because of all the self-control before. I’ve always seen Claudius as one of the most interesting villains in Shakespeare; he’s not a megalomaniac, nor is he out to kill anyone, he doesn’t turn against Hamlet (Junior) until it’s clear Hamlet is a lethal threat to him, the love for Gertrude is real, he might well be a good king, and he’s definitely good at keeping his head in a crisis, see his talking Laertes out of killing him and into aiding him – but he did commit fratricide, and as he himself notes, it’s no good repenting if you want to keep the benefits of your murder. In the Kenneth Branagh film, they’re at least subtextually playing with the possibility that Claudius might be Hamlet’s biological father. Not so hear, but you do get the impression Hamlet’s idolization of the late Hamlet Senior and hate for Claudius is a lot of projection, and the two have more in common than either is comfortable with. A little more than kin and less than kind, indeed. The death scene(s), too: in this production, you get the idea Gertrude realizes the cup is poisoned when Claudius warns her not to drink it and that’s why she does. Some productions I’ve seen had Gertrude turn against Claudius after the closet scene and behave coldly from that point onwards, but not this one. It has them being tender with each other quite until the end, but Gertrude going increasingly to pieces post-closet scene, with her loyalties split between husband and son. Hence the poison cup. And hence the way Hamlet at last kills Claudius: he doesn’t stab him or stuff his mouth with the poison, as I have seen before. Instead, when he says “drink this and follow my mother” he’s actually offering a choice (though he has his rapier pointed at Claudius when he hands him the cup) and Claudius does follow suit and drink, with it open to debate whether he does because he’s being forced and sees no way out, or whether he wants to. When he falls down, his hand is reaching for the dead Gertrude.

The entire ensemble was excellent, with Oliver Ford Davies playing Polonius mostly as comic relief but nonetheless getting across the paranoid control Polonius exerts (or tries to) over his children, and Penny Downe playing Gertrude in a similar manner to Patrick Stewart’s Claudius, going from outwards aspect – charming society hostess in her case – to inwards revelation in the later part of the play; I’ve already talked about the sense of being torn to pieces. When she says “oh Hamlet, you have split my heart in two” she means just that. She has a startling outburst of laughter during the closet scene; the emotional breakdown fever in Elsinore has gripped her, too.

Mariah Gale as Ophelia is playful with her brother Laertes in her early scenes and more determined and less wobbly in her first confrontation with Hamlet than other Ophelias I’ve seen, but during the play-within-a-play scene it’s already clear she’s brittle; then, when she’s mad, there is also a fury driving her, which is a fascinating take on the character, the madness usually being played in the sweet and gentle manner. But here Ophelia when mad has a rage that is no longer helpless as she directs it at Gertrude, Claudius, everyone.

Favourite theatre in joke detail: when Hamlet (and Horatio) have it out with Guildenstern and Rosenkrantz after the play-within-a-play, Hamlet actually plays on a lute, and what he plays is “Three blind mice”. Which is of course the melody that provides the biggest clue in Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap, that play named after Hamlet’s play-within-a-play which we’ve just seen.

And now I’ve teased you enough. So, David Tennant as Hamlet. First I must say that filmed Hamlet performances – whether it’s Olivier or Branagh or, God forbid, Mel Gibson – which are the ones most people can be counted on having seen if they aren’t familiar with stage productions – have never really satisfied me, though Branagh comes closest. (But he still strikes me as too old and too self-conscious – and not in a way the character is.) Tennant’s Hamlet, otoh, I was completely happy with, and I don’t think it’s because of actor bias. Mind you, DT’s incredibly youthful face actually sells the “student from Wittenberg” thing whereas most actors simply look too old not just for being a student but for reacting to the loss of a father and the Gertrude/Claudius union the way Hamlet does, but that outward advantage wouldn’t have mattered if his acting hadn’t been good. Especially given the company he was in. Moments that particular stick to mind: the initial reunion with Horatio (the change of demeanour from Hamlet’s perfunctionary politeness to Marcellus and Bernardo to the glad hug he greets Horatio with) – in this production you see where Horatio’s loyalty comes from; his expression when he realises that he and Ophelia are being watched, and that Ophelia knows and lies to him (and again, the switch of demeanor then; I’ve seen Hamlets who were on to the game from the start and treated Ophelia accordingly, but here the first “get thee to a nunnery” is spoken as a genuine warning, and then after the “where is your father?” and Ophelia’s response it changes, by voice and expression alone, to angry disappointed lashing out and cruelty. The way Tennant made the big speeches and quotes, whether it was “to be or not to be” or “oh what a rogue and peasant slave” etc. flow out of whatever mood Hamlet was in. That incredible silent moment with Claudius after the play-within-a-play I already described. Which helps set up the later scene with Hamlet deciding not to kill Claudius while Claudius is praying (I always wonder about how many of the audience get what the reasoning – if Claudius is killed while repenting, he won’t go to hell – says about Hamlet, but it’s set up here, and the production actually made that scene the cliffhanger interval break in a very tv way: Hamlet comes across the praying Claudius, pulls his knife, and sudden darkness. Stay tuned for part II, audience. The Ophelia grave scene; it’s hard to play without either Hamlet coming across as absolutely insufferable or as mocking Laertes, but in this production I actually believed Hamlet had loved Ophelia (though not as much as his parents). The moments of sheer fun, as with Hamlet and the players (who basically were indulgent pros towards their amateur enthusiast patron), and the enthusiasm and wit which are as much a part of Hamlet as the grief and anger. The sudden quiet “if it were now…” etc. with Horatio before the duel scene that gave you the idea at this point Hamlet was indeed ready to die, and not in a half posing, half angry manner as he would have been at the start of the play. (Another thing: just as Claudius’ murder of his brother dooms him, and despite struggling against it he in a way knows it, you get the sense here Hamlet knows his killing of Polonius means his own death, though it has taken him until the duel notice to internalize it.) The duel scene, which startes with mannered fencing and then picks up vicious speed, and both DT and Edward Bennett, who plays Laertes and is DT’s understudy for Hamlet, make you believe in the genuineness of the fencing. (Go, fight coordinator Terry King.) Just – everything. A very, very happy viewer I.

Bimo and I sat near the aisle so were out of the playhouse pretty quickly and made our way to the stage door, but of course there was already a big crowd. Both Patrick Stewart and David Tennant came out for a bit and signed some autographs before calling it a night, but with the sheer mass of people, we just saw the back of Stewart’s bald head and his profile now and then; DT being a somewhat larger, his entire head was visible over the crowd now and then, and I might have gotten a photo (will have to check once I’m in London, I’m writing this on the train), but we weren’t surprised we didn’t make it to the front before they both left. After three and a half hours of performance, it was really nice to do a bit of fanservice at all. Speaking of the fans, as opposed to certain clichés in the press, everyone was well-behaved, both during the performance (i.e. no reactions that didn’t have to do with what was presented on stage, no photos) and later in front of the stage door. Which, despite the lethal ending of the play, left everyone in a great mood as we wandered away and back to our hotels.

3. The Beatles performing the Pyramus and Thisbe sketch from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
(As part of British tv’s celebration of Shakespeare’s 400th anniversary.
Why it stays with me: Oh, come on.

Watch on YouTube

4. Macbeth, Startford 1978
Macbeth: Ian McKellen. Lady Macbeth: Judi Dench. Porter: Ian McDiarmid. Malcolm: Roger Rees.

Not seen live by yours truly but thankfully recorded on film so I could see it in school as one of three Macbeth productions (the other two were Polanski and Welles). This production still remains my gold standard Macbeth; all previous and subsequent ones suffer by comparison.

What remains with me: I’ve seen it since, but not until then – the three Witches played not as the same but as three distinctly different individuals, emboying the maiden/mother/crone imagery. Macbeth and Lady M having incredible chemistry (that first kiss! I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an intense sexual spark between two actors in these roles, and of course it makes the loss of each other into madness and/or nihilistic emptiness in the second half all the more glaring) and both being played by actors of equal charisma. (In all other productions I’ve seen, either the Macbeth or the Lady is weaker.) Judi Dench’s rendition of the sleepwalking scene, with that unearthly howl. Ian McKellen’s „tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow“. The way his Macbeth goes from being physically sickened by his own thoughts early on to utter detachment.

What I wrote at the time: I didn’t, still being in school.

5. Richard II, Startford 2014
Richard: David Tennant.

Also not watched on stage, alas, but thankfully in this case a live performance was filmed. What remains with me: the deposition scene, the way David Tennant’s Richard is smart in his defeat in a way he wasn’t in ruling and uses his understanding of the power of gesture and ceremony to define and ruin Bolingbroke’s kingship for his not so dear cousin. „Now watch“, that sibilant whisper. The way the opening and closing image of the production, the coffin on stage, bookend, in both cases the king being morally guilty of murder though not physically, and no one able to bring it up. The Aumerle-Richard kiss, and the build up to it.

Now, for someone like yours truly who only read the play once, many years ago, the obvious comparison is to the Hollow Crown version (review here). So the first thing that struck me was that by putting the scene with the Duchess of Gloucester back in - along with all those references to Richard being guilty of ordering Gloucester's death, no matter who did the actual deed - and in fact making her and the coffin of her husband the opening image, the RSC production not only gets a symmetry between opening and ending but also thematically. (Not to mention that everyone's motivations in the opening scene - Bolingbroke's, Richard's and Mowbray's - just make it that much more tense and interesting.) Also: like I said in the Hollow Crown review, one basic problem a modern day audience is likely to have is that a key problem of the play - whether or not the removal of a "bad" king is justified - isn't a problem at all if you don't believe in the divine right of kings. However, the RSC production gets across how much that matters to the characters anyway, and part of this is because they didn't cut all the Gloucester backstory. Everyone in the opening scene being convinced that Richard is morally guilty of that death but unable to say so outright because of who he is, including Mowbray when he gets banished because it's just that unthinkable, gets that point across. And it provides a mirror to the end where the new Henry IV. is morally guilty of Richard's death, and banishes the person who did it.

Also: everyone in this production is aware of the power of ceremony and public gesture, and none more than Richard himself. Bolingbroke challenging Mowbray re: Gloucester's death isn't "just" about Mowbray, it's very consciously directed at Richard (who can't be challenged directly, but can be shamed by attending a trial by combat which, if Bolingbroke wins, also passes as divine judgment). John of Gaunt's death curse isn't so much one last attempt to put the fear of God into Richard but again a public gesture. If Rory Kinnear's Bolingbroke in the Hollow Crown version gives the impression of not having thought about ursurpation until he's back in England, Nigel Lindsay's Bolingbroke comes across of not needing any encouragement to go after the crown because he had his eyes on the throne at the latest from when he got banished, if not before that. He also doesn't have ambiguous feelings about Richard. His "I wanted it done but I hate you for doing it" lines at the end don't come across as grief as much as horrified awareness of the type of trap he's landed himself in.

Because while Ben Wishaw's Richard is using the "here, Cousin, take the crown" scene to mess with Henry Bolingbroke and his supporters because he can and he has nothing to lose, David Tennant's Richard does it very deliberately to define Henry's image as a King forever after. (And also because he can and he has nothing to lose.) That moment when he whispers "Now watch" into Bolingbroke's ear? Comes across as a "you may have gotten me, but this is where I end you, no matter how long you reign" challenge. It starts in the previous scene, actually, the one where Richard comes down from the battlements and surrenders, because Ben Wishaw's Richard came across as not quite there and distraught and crushed, whereas David Tennant's Richard is at that point past being distraught and crushed and well into "we're going to do this in a way that drenches it of any enjoyment for you bastards", and he manages that precisely because he may not have been a responsible king, but as I said, he really understands the power of gesture and ceremony. He's smart about his defeat in a way I hadn't expected. Fascinating what a difference productions can make.

Now both Richards start narcissistic, callous (around John of Gaunt's dying) and gain sympathy (and humanity) as they lose power; in the RSC production you can pin point almost the moment where one starts to feel something positive for Richard, which is the dialogue with Aumerle after all the bad news have settled in and Richard's immediate freakout is over. Because this is the first time we see Richard kind towards another being and get the impression he's able to notice someone's emotions in ways that aren't about himself. The way the production plays this scene goes from Richard trying to cheer Aumerle up to the kiss to the comforting embrace and cuddling; it's that Richard doing the attending here as opposed to the other way around that sells the emotion as genuine.

Which brings me to Aumerle. Both The Hollow Crown and the RSC production dump Exton as Richard's killer and substitute him through Aumerle, which gives Aumerle a tragic arc through the play. With one caveat - I'll get to this in a second - I think the RSC version does it better because of the way Oliver Rix playes Aumerle; both deeply in love with Richard and increasingly desperate about what to do in an ever worsening situation. My caveat is that the RSC production plays the scene with the York family in front of Henry basically as comedy. Now with them outkneeling each other, I can see the temptation, but I still thought that was where The Hollow Crown won, not just playing it straight but because it had Lindsay Duncan as the Duchess of York, whose mixture of being both desperate for and furious with her son and will power were far too awesome not to take her seriously, and thus her final words to him make for a better push for Aumerle into becoming Richard's assassin than Marty Cruickshank's do. (Btw, since Aumerle isn't involved in Richard's murder in the actual play at all and doesn't show up anymore after this scene, I can only guess the reason Shakespeare wrote that scene was to show the new Henry IV. displaying some kingly qualities, in this case, mercy.)

The other case where I thought The Hollow Crown won was the rendition of the "That island in the silver sea" speech by John of Gaunt. Both productions managed to make it flow naturally as part of what John of Gaunt was going on about before instead of a set piece, but, well, Patrick Stewart is Patrick Stewart. Michael Pennington is generally good, but Stewart was simply better.

On the other hand: The Queen is a pretty thankless role (well, her historical counterpart, Richard's second wife, was a child), but I thought Emma Hamilton in the RSC production made more of it than the former Fleur Delacourt in The Hollow Crown. (I do suspect that in Elizabethan days the boy actor who was best went for one of the two Duchesses, though.)

On Bolingbrokes, I think Rory Kinnear was more sympathetic (and had a repressed crush on Richard) but less believable in terms of being someone getting himself a kingdom, whereas Nigel Lindsay was a power player who made the decision to replace a cousin he saw as incompetent (and definitely didn't crush on Richard; all the homoeroticism in the RSC production is between Richard and Aumerle) without breaking a sweat but then realised he'd taken on maybe more than he could chew, not to mention that the scene where he asks where his son is and hears Hal is out partying already gives a foreshadowing to the later Henry IV. wondering what the point of it all may have been.

The Richards, like I said, have roughly the same arc in terms of "From bad king to tragic victim", but Ben Wishaw's is someone who never could have been a good king and should have been an artist or filmstar somewhere, which would have made him happy, whereas David Tennant's actually does have the necessary smarts and the necessary brand of manipulative ruthlessness buried, but employs them too late, so his "I wasted time; now time is wasting me" comes out in a whole different brand of regret.

In conclusion: very compelling Shakespeare, that. Will definitely rewatch.

The rest of the days