The Lion in Winter

A lion should rule his kingdom with territorial ferocity. Yes, he’ll laze around in the sun for most of the day - but every now and then he’ll roar loudly to remind the savannah who’s boss. But this fictional history play, written by James Goldman in 1966 and currently enjoying a revival at the Haymarket Theatre under the artistic direction of Sir Trevor Nunn, is more like a Cub in Spring.

It’s 1183 and it’s Christmas time in King Henry II’s royal court. The whole family is assembled: King Henry, ageing but with his wits intact; his young mistress Alais; his estranged wife, the legendary Eleanor of Aquitaine, who he has granted temporary release from imprisonment for leading a revolt against him; his “greedy little trinity” of sons Richard, Geoffrey and John; and the King of France. Henry needs to choose an heir - and whilst he wants the small, spotty John, Eleanor backs their strapping eldest Richard. (Poor Geoffrey, suffering typical middle child syndrome, feels forgotten). As Henry and Eleanor bicker over who should succeed the throne, the Christmas gathering quickly turns wintry – becoming a cold game of chess in which everyone else is a pawn. Like every family at Christmas, there’s definitely enough drama and political scheming going on here to make a good play. As Eleanor quips, “What family doesn’t have problems?”

But Goldman’s script is disappointing. Historically and politically inaccurate, it’s filled with anachronistic one-liners that reverberate limply in the medieval setting. In short, it’s a Plantagenet soap opera, a preposterous 12^th century sitcom. Imagine one of the great Shakespearean history plays has descended into a farce of Blackadder proportions. At times, it works. It’s light-hearted and fun, a history play plonked on a modern stage. Robert Lindsay shines as the powerful, swaggering King Henry, delivering his lines with just the right amount of wisecracking humour and sardonic roaring. His verbal sparring with Joanna Lumley’s Queen Eleanor is often hilarious- words dripping in poison and then coated in barbs. They’re just your regular dysfunctional, estranged husband and wife- with occasional flashes of long-lost chemistry and tenderness. After all, there’s a very fine line between love and hate. And Lumley’s performance as Eleanor is apt. “Of course he’s got a knife we have all got a knife, it’s 1183 and we are still barbarians,” she bellows to the delight of the audience, and any Ab Fab fans. She may as well have been clutching a fag between her two bejewelled fingers. Her Eleanor is all catty sniping masking a shrewd, scheming mind. Largely, however, the jokey script seemed weirdly incongruous against the medieval backdrop. Goldman attempts to give Henry’s political decision a modern-day relevance but it doesn’t work. Instead, this is a Christmas family romp filled with fairly farcical action (namely the scene where Henry comes to the King of France’s bedroom for a serious political discussion only to discover all three sons hiding behind a tapestry and that Richard has been indulging in a gay affair with the French King). Ridiculous, to say the least. 

In the end, though, Nunn effectively revives this limp turkey of a play. It tickles the audience and Stephen Brimson Lewis’s incredibly stylish set is brilliant: designed with receding marble arches to give the convincing impression of a castle hall, the actors’ voices even echoed atmospherically throughout the dungeon scene. The cast, Lindsay and Lumley in particular, deliver their lines as best they can even though the script offers them nothing meaty to play with. For me, it’s the script that lets down this whole affair. It lacks real tension and the one-liners end up wilting into a pointless stalemate. In short, nothing memorable happens. As loud as the leonine King Henry roars, in the end this is one lion who almost gets rather lost. It’s just lucky that Nunn and his cast were on hand to show him the way.