Anne Boleyn: keeping your head at court

Anne Boleyn by Howard Brenton
Directed by Colin McColl
Auckland Theatre Company
Q Theatre
Until July 7

You won’t need much introduction to the characters in Howard Brenton’s play Anne Boleyn if you have read any of the raft of recent fiction or watched the TV dramas about the Tudors.

But don’t expect another drama about the downfall of the queen. This play takes a more light-hearted approach to the period by including the reign of another "queen" – James I, making it one of the great serious comedies to come out of the UK in recent years.

The bellicose but scholarly James I is inserted into the plot as he assumes the crown of England and discovers  the frocks of Anne as well as her heretical, theological reading material.

This is an opportunity for James to explore his sexuality through the dresses and the political, theological and personal history of Anne through the little book which ultimately leads him to the idea of a new translation of the Bible.

Playwright Howard Brenton is not so much interested in the dry history of the period though. He sees life as a string of chaotic moments and history as “the mess living in the moment leaves behind”.

He is quite happy to invent events and dialogues which could have occurred, to suit his view of how the life of Anne Boleyn and the history of the Tudors unfolded. The real life characters of Anne, Henry, Cromwell and Wolsey could easily have been joined by Black Adder.

The serious bit of the play focuses on the importance of language; how the meaning of words can change our view of ideas and concepts, alter our views about religion and transform individuals and society.

For the theologians of the Reformation nit-picking about words was important in determining what form the church would take, whether ruled by priests or the congregation, whether the king was answerable to the Pope or God.

In the play everyone gets involved in the discussion about words. It starts with a tantalising Anne Boleyn asking the audience if they want to see “it” – she doesn’t let us know what “it” is but it get revealed to be a little theological book.

That’s a bit of a let down, but then she shows us her hacked-off head and that seems to be a much more interesting “it”. The point ,though, is that it was the little book which brought about her downfall and her head being chopped.

As Anne, Anna Jullienne creates a slightly surreal character who exists as both a dream figment and an almost mythic figure standing apart from history.

All the main characters appear to inhabit the stage as separate stand-up comedians with their array of witty lines.

They talk with each other, but more often they seem to relate to the audience with knowing glances, elaborate asides and comments, as well as direct engagement with the audience, such as when Anne instructs us to leave at interval so that Henry and her can engage in sexual activity which has been denied him for seven years.

As Henry VIII, Andrew Grainger gives a rollicking performance as the king caught in courtly, religious and sexual webs preyed on by the tenacious Anne.

Stephen Lovatt gives a Billy Connolly performance as James I, oozing around the stage in a vibrant pink tartan suit or some cross-dressing garb, his outbursts alternating between the bawdy and the erudite. And he speaks about how it is dangerous for monarchs to read books.

Paul Minifie as the blustering Wolsey is a superb caricature but also a brilliantly captured character, and his little dance of triumph is a brilliant combination of the comic and malevolent.

Simon Prast makes Thomas Cromwell into a mix of the ultimate scheming bureaucrat and a mafia don. His ability to suck the emotion out of himself and others is chilling.

The costumes by Elizabeth Whiting which stretch from the 15th century to the present are a vibrant mixture, including some elegant gowns of shimmering fabrics and rich brocades.

The set is designed by Rachael Walker, with its steel beams and crumbling concrete base making a nice comment on the contrast between the solidity of the monarchy and the fragility of those who would be monarchs.