By Eric George Tauber
SAN DIEGO — In the Book of Samuel, the prophet pours olive oil onto the head of the shepherd boy David, declaring him the next King of Israel. (I Sam 16) This anointing ceremony inspired the concept of monarchs ruling by “divine right.” King James loved the idea and commissioned frescos in exaltation of it. His son, Charles I, would walk under these very frescos on his way to his public beheading in 1649.
Yet the notion has persisted to our day, even across the pond. American Evangelicals spoke of a “divine anointing” on Trump to lead America in spite of his having very little in common with them.
The idea of “noble blood” sometimes made monarchs of children as in 1377 when a ten-year old Richard II inherited the English throne. A tight group of Dukes held court until Richard came of age. But then, in 1387, the Lords Appellant led a coup to usurp the king’s authority and turn the king into a figurehead. Richard won the day, but he neither forgot nor forgave, taking his revenge at the height of his power in 1397. Thus begins the Bard’s tale.
Two young nobles, Henry Bollingbroke and the Duke of Mowbray have a quarrel to settle by duel. They announce themselves by droning in a strange and mildly annoying Gregorian chant. Why?
Richard seemed glued to his gilded throne. A golden disc fixed to his crown gives him a halo like a hallowed saint while the crown sits upon a very Trumpian reddish-blond wig.
“Mock not my senseless conjurations.”
What Richard says doesn’t always make sense, leaving his people scrambling to suss out what he meant. Sound familiar?
The stage combat was unsatisfyingly short. Their swords had barely clashed when the king threw down his scepter, ending the duel. Mowbray is banished for life and Bollingbroke for only six years. But those six seem six too many.
Eager for glory, Richard banishes and robs his own kinsmen to finance his military campaigns into Ireland. When he leaves the house, Bollingbroke returns with ships … and friends. Initially, Bollingbroke only wants what’s rightfully his, the Duchy of Lancaster. But other hands are pushing him to be king.
Tory Kittles plays Bollingbroke with fiery intensity. Even in the chilly night air, the heat of his anger radiated through the house. His narrowed eyes showed the shrewdness of his calculation. Surely the king had to know that he had crossed the wrong man. Yet once he attains the crown, it weighs heavily upon his own furrowed brow.
John Ahlin is larger than life as the grandiloquent Earl of Northumberland. From his entrance, I thought he’d make a great Falstaff, then learned that he has played the role eleven times. Patrick Kerr brings some welcome comic relief as the nebbishy Duke of York. But his delivery seems more sit-commy than Shakespearean.
Lizbeth Mackay played the Duchess of York with focused desperation. Born to the world of political intrigue, she clearly sees the Sword of Damocles that hangs over those in power and urgently tries to save her son.
Robert Sean Leonard in the title role plays a man with greatness thrust upon him. He is outwardly haughty while inwardly scared and insecure. Yet it was not until he was dethroned that I personally felt any sympathy for the man.
The voices clamoring for Trump’s impeachment seem to be growing. Depending on what investigators unearth, it may be a matter not of if but when. (My lips to G-d’s ears.) But let us learn our lesson from the Bard’s histories and not be too quick to anoint another ill-suited savior.
Shakespeare’s Richard II plays at the Old Globe through July 15, 2017.
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Tauber is a freelance writer who specializes in coverage of the arts. He may be contacted via eric.tauber@sdjewishworld.com