(White Light) Dark Sketches of Richard

The desire to do Richard III came from watching Ian McKellen & Richard Loncraine’s film version. Which had evolved into being out of the National theatre’s stage production directed by Richard Eyre. McKellen had toured the show around the world and spent two years perfecting his own waxy, lyrical, deadly prince of deceit. Bringing all that experience and exploration of the character to his film version. I can still recall my breath being taken away by the sheer audacity of his cinematic portrayal. It is a performance to aspire to. I became particularly fascinated by the infamous Richard and Lady Anne scene. Where Richard, who has just brutally murdered this woman’s husband. Interrupts the funeral procession and at this deeply raw, bitter moment of Lady Anne’s despair. He decides to woo her? Not only that, but by the end of a long, anguished scene during which she confronts him of his crime, spits in his face and points a dagger at his bare chest. She ends up accepting a ring and agreeing to see him again. It was a puzzle. Why would she do this? How could I play the scene for a modern audience, especially the women? How could Lady Anne’s behavior be palatable to them? It became a question that I had to puzzle out. My chance came after two years of being trapped inside due to Covid. I was desperate to do something. The Gibraltar drama festival was coming up and Jackie Villa asked if any of the senior students would like to do some Shakespeare? Those seniors who came forward spent the next six weeks working extremely hard. Learning an ancient tongue, absorbing its poetry and unlocking the magic stored in the words of the Bard. No small feat, for it requires a curious mind and much patience to gain the vocal control needed to tell his stories. They succeeded. Bringing their youthful, eager energy. They discovered themselves in the roles and brought the audience their take on a play written in 1592. Our Lady Anne used the rules of engagement found in ‘Film noir’. She was a ‘Femme Fetale’ as tough as nails, as she was beautiful. Giving back as good as she got from our sweet talking homicidal bad boy. A woman  soaked in the gasoline of grief and burning white hot in its rage.  A modern Lady Anne for our times.