1954 George Schaefer Production

This television broadcast, directed by George Schaefer, starred Maurice Evans as King Richard II; Sarah Churchill as Queen Isabel; Frederick Worlock as John of Gaunt; Kent Smith as Bolingbroke; Bruce Gordon as Thomas Mowbray; and Richard Purdy as Duke of York.

Commenting on the production in 1955, Alice Griffin found it “too cluttered” and said it “substituted the literal for the imaginative,” with the setting consisting “of an over-abundance of towers and turrets, massive but unconvincing, while the garden set was so filled with flowers and leaves that one had trouble distinguishing the actors.” According to Griffin, “Richard II is Maurice Evans’s best role, and he was especially effective in the first half of the play, though the total character lacked the electricity and depth which Michael Redgrave brought to it at Stratford-on-Avon in 1951. Mr. Evans,” Griffing continued, “conveyed well the self-indulgent, sentimental side of Richard,” but “sometimes he seems to ‘speechify’ rather than act, and at other times seems to employ the facile and the obvious in his interpretation. The trimming of the script,” Griffin thought, “was well done, and the chief merit of this presentation was its clarity, being far more easy to follow for the new viewer of Shakespeare than” another recent production, this one of King Lear. “The conclusion of the play,” Griffin said, “was in questionable taste, sacrificing the dignity of the funeral procession for a closeup of the dead Richard” (64).

Margaret Shewring, in her 1996 book on Richard II for the Shakespeare in Performance series, called this a “hybrid” theatrical/televised production with sets that seemed “cluttered and intrusive on the screen” (140)—one that seems to have condescended to American audiences by including footage from a recent “coronation newsreel” (142).

Discussing this production in a 2008 essay titled “Maurice Evans’ Richard II on Stage, Television and Film,” Russell Jackson asserted that “Evans wanted to bring Shakespeare to a mass audience, and expended considerable energy and resources on doing so in his theatre work. The Richard II productions—both planned and realized—in the 1950s show how he hoped to do this and illustrate the sometimes-difficult negotiations between the desire to perform the Shakespearian material and the cultural expectations of audiences and sponsors.” Jackson thought that Evans’s “projects also suggest the potential of television as a new mass medium and its stimulating but uneasy position in relation to theatre and the cinema” (37).

Describing her own 2008 essay “The Royal Throne of Kings and the American Armchair: Deconstructing the Hallmark Richard II” in an end-of-the-book abstract, Lois Potter wrote that the “Hallmark Hall of Fame production starring Maurice Evans, broadcast early in 1954, is a landmark in television history and, at the same time, a link with theatre history and with topical contemporary events. Evans,” she continued, “was preserving a performance that went back to 1937 in New York and to 1934 in London, and could even be traced back to Frank Benson in the 1890s.” According to Potter, Evans “was also exploiting the recent excitement surrounding the televising of Elizabeth Il’s coronation and attempting, indirectly, to remind audiences of the abdication of Edward VIII, an event intimately linked both with the coronation and with the enormous success of the 1937 production of a play about a so-called ‘playboy king.’ However,” she added, “Evans and his … team looked forward as well as back, and their production offers interesting solutions to the problems of the play that have proved equally difficult for later directors like the BBC’s David Giles.” Potter discussed “the skillful cutting of the text, the varied success of the mixture of realism and stylization in the staging, and the surprising interpolation of a non-Shakespearean scene near the end, looking also at the contemporary response to the telecast,” concluding that unfortunately Evans’s “enormous contribution” to American theatre and television had not been sufficiently appreciated.

1960 Age of Kings Production

Two episodes of the fifteen-part 1960 BBC series (“The Hollow Crown” and “The Deposing of a King”) dealt with Richard II. [For discussion of the entire series, see An Age of Kings.] These episodes starred David William as King Richard the Second; Edgar Wreford as John of Gaunt; Tom Fleming as Henry Bolingbroke; Noel Johnson as Duke of Norfolk; David Andrews as Sir John Bushy; Sean Connery as Harry Percy; and Juliet Cooke as Queen.

Peter Cochran, discussing these two episodes in his 2013 book Small-Screen Shakespeare (125–26), thought David William as Richard did not seem sufficiently weak (125), but he admired Bolingbroke’s voice and called the murder of Richard especially gruesome (126).

1971 Cottrell/Robertson Production

Directed by Richard Cottrell and Toby Robertson, this adaptation starred Ian McKellen as King Richard II; Timothy West as Henry Bolingbroke; Robert Eddison as Duke of York; Paul Hardwick as John of Gaunt; Peggy Thorpe-Bates as Duchess of York; Trevor Martin as Earl of Northumberland; Andrew Crawford as Bishop of Carlisle; and Lucy Fleming as Queen Isabella.

Discussing this production in her 1996 book on the play (81–90), Margaret Shewring wrote that there “is no doubt in this production that [from the start] Richard is guilty” of murdering Gloucester. She considered the “dominant sequence of screen images … appropriate to a gothic thriller” and wrote that, “[c]oupled with the use of the television device of close-up, these images pre-judge the King’s implication in murder,” partly because the “elimination of any doubt as to the King’s guilt was in line with Cottrell’s and McKellen’s aim to ensure the clarity of the narrative in both visual and psychological terms” (85). Shewring reported that for “McKellen, the story of Richard II is the story of the discovery of humanity as Richard is propelled along a path which leads inexorably to his awareness of increasing isolation, his need for friendship and real loyalty and, ultimately, his fight for life in the face of seven intruders, led by Exton.” According to Shewring, the “strong physical violence of this scene, with its emphasis upon human contact and disorder, asserted the need to maintain human life at all costs” (86). The “production’s emphasis upon the personal tragedy of Richard is underlined by the decision to present Richard’s confrontation with Bolingbroke from Richard’s perspective” (87), but Shewring also thought “[o]ne of the most interesting features of this production, at least as recorded on video, is the way in which Bolingbroke has to learn the appropriate moves as he comes to terms with his authority” (88).

1978–79 BBC Shakespeare Production

Directed by David Giles, this adaptation starred Derek Jacobi as King Richard; John Gielgud as John of Gaunt as Jon Finch; as Henry Bolingbroke; Wendy Hiller as Duchess of York; Charles Gray as Duke of York; Mary Morris as Duchess of Gloucester; David Swift as Duke of Northumberland; Clifford Rose as Bishop of Carlisle; Charles Keating as Duke of Aumerle; Richard Owens as Thomas Mowbray; Janet Maw as Queen; Jeffrey Holland as Duke of Surrey; and Jeremy Bulloch as Henry.

Henry Fenwick, in his 1978 essay on “The Production” (19–26) for the BBC booklet on this broadcast, reported that producer Cedric Messina said this play can work well on television because it is relatively brief and relatively intimate and “less epic” than the other history plays. According to Fenwick, David Giles, the director, had worked both in theaters and with television; he and set designer Tony Abbott decided to make the look of this play both stylized and realistic to avoid either extreme (19–20). Parts of the set could be arranged in different combinations and were meant to suggest “big Gothic medieval architecture.” Various aspects of the play, such as “parleys, marches, confrontations on castle walls, [and] a trial by tournament,” could not be presented realistically, but stylization could not be carried too far (20). Robin Fraser-Paye, the costume designer, tried to convey the wealth of Richard’s court without being able to make the costumes as expensive as the ones Richard and his courtiers actually wore, when clothes implied status (21). Both Giles and Derek Jacobi, playing Richard, had to decide how to deal with the murder of Gloucester that precedes the play, with Jacobi needing to imply Richard’s nervousness about the murder and the backstory in general (22–23). Television allowed Giles to emphasize conspiracies and other scenes that can be confusing on stage, while filming at Flint Castle contributed clarity to the production and also allowed Giles to emphasize different aspects of certain soliloquies (23). Both Jacobi and Sir John Gielgud, who played John of Gaunt, agreed that the play’s language can be almost too consistently beautiful, but television allowed for a “lower key” than the theater and also allowed for greater emphasis on the Duke of York and his subplot (24–25). Jacobi focused on Richard as himself a kind of actor as well as a tragic figure (26).

Reviewing the production in 1979, Jack Jorgens called it an unusually “solid production” for the BBC series; admired Jacobi’s “superb … rendering the arc of Richard’s development”; praised Jon Finch as “a perfect foil for Jacobi’s quixotic softness” (413); and commended a “fine supporting cast including a feisty, touching Gaunt by John Gielgud.” Saying that it was in the “‘small’” scenes that the “quality … [of] this production really shines,” Jorgens also praised the “confident use of the camera, which includes and excludes characters with precision” and thus “provides a striking contrast with the randomness of earlier productions” (414).

Michael Manheim, also reviewing the BBC effort in 1979, called it “a production that really does justice to the play,” the “success of which is the more impressive in light of some glaring weaknesses in the three initial productions in the series.” He praised this version’s “handsomeness,” saying the “settings and costumes are highly effective, carefully studied, and used repeatedly in service of the central issues of the play” and added that this “production achieves … magnificence and broad sweep with texture rather than distance.” He admired the ways director Giles “teaches us history we might not know” and the cast’s “superb realization of the characters” (writing that “Jacobi is for me the best Richard witnessed in over thirty years of seeing productions of this play” [5]), and commenting that the “transition from arrogant prince to tragic hero is difficult for any Richard, but Jacobi is up to the task,” partly because he “most effectively fixes the ambivalence in our feelings toward Richard by having played the arrogant young king so effectively that we feel we can never forgive him even while we lament in his passing the death of a true hero. That division in our sympathies,” according to Manheim, “is what Shakespeare wants us to feel about all his fallen kings” (6).

James C. Bulman and Herbert R. Coursen, in their fine 1988 collection Shakespeare on Television, provided brief excerpts from various early reviews of the BBC production, including one calling it “an almost contemporary story of power used and abused” and praising Jacobi’s performance and another hailing it as “[e]xtraordinarily fine” and “fully realized,” with Jacobi as “a glorious Richard” and Charles Gray as “superb” as well as admiration for the ways “Richard’s last hours … are beautifully directed.” A third reviewer called Jacobi’s Richard “both believable and kingly” (253); a fourth commended the treatment of “brief but crucial scenes that serve as connecting points for the plot”; while a fifth commentator, writing that Gielgud and Hiller “bring warmth and humor to their parts, playing them with a kind of gutsy enthusiasm balanced with irony,” added that “Jacobi excels” in his final scenes and that the production as a whole is “a total experience” (254).

Ace Pilkington, in his 1991 book Screening Shakespeare from Richard II to Henry V, quoted John Wilders, the production’s literary consultant, as suggesting that this broadcast “could have been improved with more time to rehearse and film” (29). Pilkington himself noted flaws in various scenes, especially 2.1 (29–32); cited many critics’ complaints about the production (41–45); and discussed the conception of the historical Richard that underlies this production (45–49). He thought that “Giles’s interpretation of Richard II and his emphasis on history has not only produced an effective Richard but also given other characters firmer ground to stand on than they usually have,” mentioning especially the Duchess of Gloucester, Duke of York, and Henry Bolingbroke. (49). Praising the acting of Jacobi and Finch (49–51) and reporting that in this production “the acting consistently received greater praise than anything else,” with Jacobi “consistently … praised as the outstanding performer” (53), Pilkington emphasized Jacobi’s use of sarcasm (54–55) and laughter (56–57) and admired his consistency, saying that he “manages to demonstrate that the Richard in the second half of the play is the same as the Richard in the first half,” so that “the two halves of the play, pre-Ireland and post-Ireland, hold together.” According to Pilkington, “Jacobi’s Richard (and Shakespeare’s Richard, for that matter) is clearly identified as a tyrant” (59) but a tyrant “adept at maintaining political pressure even when he is at a disadvantage” (61). Pilkington felt that “[p]erhaps the greatest strength of this production and of Jacobi’s acting is the coupling of the sympathy that [the play’s later] scenes usually generate for Richard with a firm conviction in the audience that Bolingbroke is ending a tyranny.” Thus, the “end result of the historical, naturalistic interpretation that Giles and Jacobi have created has been a more coherent and complex protagonist than is sometimes the case. This Richard is a legitimate king whose insecure position, echoed in his oscillations between confidence and despair, makes him a tyrant. His belief in his divine right to power and his fear lest he lose all are at once terrifying and pathetic.” Thus, for Pilkington, Richard’s “insecurities—internal and external—force him to reach for absolute power and finally mean his downfall,” so that “Bolingbroke does not succeed because of his own superior ability or because of Richard’s incompetence but because he offers an alternative to tyranny. The production succeeds because it offers a consistent and believable Richard who is set in an understandable historical context” (63). Meanwhile, Susan Willis, in her 1991 book on the BBC series, said of this Richard II (201–3) that in directing the production David Giles “incorporated the image patterns of Shakespeare’s script into the visual elements of the televised play,” as in the use of “up and down” imagery and sun imagery (201–2). He also contrasted “a formal, taciturn Bolingbroke with a spoiled, quicksilver Richard” (203). Writing about the BBC version in his 1992 book Shakespearean Performance as Interpretation, Herbert R. Coursen called it “a splendid production,” adding that “Derek Jacobi takes on the remarkably difficult role of Richard and is the best Richard I have ever seen” (150).

In 1996, in her overview of performances of Richard II, Margaret Shewring, discussing the BBC production (142–51), commented on choices of design, setting, and costuming (142–48); praised Jacobi for “using the camera’s potential for shaping the detail of his role”; noted that the “frequent use of close-ups … allows for scrutiny of even the slightest facial expression or betrayal of emotion”; said “quietness is employed to good effect” in this production (149); said that television also allowed a director the chance “to juxtapose scenes rapidly” (149); and generally considered this broadcast “a good demonstration of both the possibilities and limitations of the [BBC] project as a whole” (151).

Charles Forker, in a 2008 essay titled “Richard II on the Screen,” wrote that the “BBC screening may be the most distinguished film version of Richard II, chiefly because of its superb classical acting. Jacobi, Finch, Gielgud, Gray and Hiller are particularly strong, but there are no weak performers in the cast. The strength of the film,” he continued, “lies in its careful attention to the rhythms, sonority and intelligibility of the verse and in the credible, nuanced characterization of the principals. In its emphasis on the psychological interiority of Richard and on the opaque but dignified reserve of his antagonist,” Forker asserted, “it somewhat slights the theme of divine-right kingship, undervaluing the colourful pageantry that traditionally embodies exalted royalty. There is also,” he thought, “less probing of the larger questions of political stability and the nature of sovereignty than one ideally might hope for. But no production can do everything. For balance, taste and fidelity to Shakespeare’s text,” he concluded, “Giles’s film remains exemplary” (63).

Summarizing in an end-of-the-book abstract another essay from 2008, this one titled “Politics and Mise-en-Scene in Television Versions of King Richard II,” author Michael Hattaway compared various productions and “proposed that the small size of television screens has encouraged directors to reduce the political arena occupied by this play so that television versions have tended to focus on personality and tragedy rather than issues and politics.”

In his 2013 book Small-Screen Shakespeare (126–27), Peter Cochran praised Jacobi, Gielgud, Gray, and Hillier; commended the ways Richard’s deposition and death are depicted; and also admired the direction, lighting, and photography (127).

1981 Bard Production

Directed by William Woodman, this adaptation starred David Birney as Richard II; Paul Shenar as Bolingbroke; Peter MacLean as Duke of York; John Devlin as Earl of Northumberland; Jeff Pomerantz as Thomas Mowbray; and John McLiam as John of Gaunt.

Discussing this production and several others in the end-of-the-book abstract to a 2008 essay titled “Politics and Mise-en-Scene in Television Versions of King Richard II,” Michael Hattaway “proposed that the small size of television screens has encouraged directors to reduce the political arena occupied by this play so that television versions have tended to focus on personality and tragedy rather than issues and politics” (350).

In another essay from 2008, this one titled “Richard II on Screen,” Charles Forker wrote of the Bard production (63–68) that its “somewhat academic approach allows students and viewers unfamiliar with Elizabethan drama to appreciate the historical distance that separates Shakespeare’s stage not only from modern stages but also from the conventions of cinema.” He thought the director “bridges this wide historical gap imaginatively, giving us the sense of an Elizabethan play with much of its artifice intact, as seen through the lens of a self-conscious modern movie maker who deliberately refuses to translate it more than minimally into a twentieth-century medium or to adulterate it with twentieth-century values. But neither,” Forker continued, “does he attempt the impossible task of recreating a sixteenth-century performance” (68).

1990–91 English Shakespeare Company Wars of the Roses Production

Part of a multiprogram series titled The Wars of the Roses staged by the English Shakespeare Company, this adaptation was directed by Michael Bogdanov and starred Michael Pennington as Richard II; Clyde Pollitt as John of Gaunt; Francesca Ryan as Queen Isabel; Ben Bazell as Earl of Westmorland; Roger Booth as Earl of Northumberland; Philip Bowen as Duke of Aumerle; Paul Brennen as Sir John Bagot; Michael Cronin as Bolingbroke; and Colin Farrell as Duke of York. [For more on the series as a whole, see Wars of the Roses.]

Commenting on this production in her 1996 overview of stagings of the play (105–16), Margaret Shewring first discussed the stage version, especially the decision to set it during the Regency (105–14). Calling Pennington well cast as Richard II, she said that some reviewers responded to this version as if “to a play of personality than to a dramatisation of the nature of authority, revealing it in all its messiness,” with Richard presented as a self-indulgent dandy (112). Although Shewring reported that “four separate versions of a single performance were recorded from different angles,” she also thought the television version has a “restlessness born of the process of the recording, coupled with the omission, throughout the cycle, of the range of—sometimes quite lengthy and elaborate—scene changes. Also, there was no time for connection—there was only one day of shooting time allotted to each individual play in the cycle. All the editing process was completed subsequently,” and the plays were presented in ways designed to “underline the contemporary relevance,” especially since the “ability to direct the audience’s response allows video to be more didactic than any stage performance” (115).

Commenting in an end-of-the-book abstract to his 2008 essay titled “Politics and Mise-en-Scene in Television Versions of King Richard II,” Michael Hattaway “proposed that the small size of television screens has encouraged directors to reduce the political arena occupied by this play so that television versions have tended to focus on personality and tragedy rather than issues and politics” (350). Meanwhile, Charles Forker, also in 2008 in an essay titled “Richard II on the Screen” (68–70), argued that “Bogdanov’s choice of nineteenth-century costumes represents a compromise between the artificiality of Elizabethan staging and the naturalism of much contemporary cinema.” He felt that the “device works well enough to make us accept the anachronism of a medieval combat between soldiers dressed as hussars rather than as armored or chain-mailed knights, and of courtiers in cravats and tail coats throwing down ‘gages.’ The joy of this film,” according to Forker, “is its clarity of action and speech, embodied by skilled actors who know how to make the thrilling language sound credible, unstilted and sincerely felt. Pennington’s enactment of the title role constitutes not only a theatrical tour de force but also proof that so flawed a ruler as Richard contains much to fascinate and admire” (70).

Peter Cochran, in his 2013 book Small-Screen Shakespeare, called this version “colourful and energetic”; welcomed the live performance; found the episode involving Richard at the coast “very moving”; and in general admired Michael Pennington’s performance as Richard in this “clear and straightforward” production. He commended the actors in general (127) and concluded by calling the whole production “excellent” (128).

1997 Deborah Warner Production

A 1995 stage version of Richard II directed by Deborah Warner was broadcast on British television in 1997. It starred the actress Fiona Shaw as Richard; Graham Crowden as John of Gaunt; Richard Bremmer as Henry Bolingbroke; David Lyon as Thomas Mowbray; Paola Dionisotti as Duchess of Gloucester; John Rogan as The Lord Marshal; and Julian Rhind-Tutt as Duke of Aumerle.

Responding to the stage production in her 1996 overview of performances of the play (180–84), Margaret Shewring called Shaw’s acting “deliberately quirky” and said it “depends upon intense nervous energy, with rapid switches in mood, awkward jokes, self-conscious, almost embarrassed, assertions of authority and displays of emotional insecurity” (182) that the nobles must try to tolerate. According to Shewring, “It is not until the closing scenes that the private person is allowed to emerge from within the public persona,” so that “it is hard now not to feel compassion for the broken, awkward,” and abused king (183). Shewring saw this as a “production devised for the 1990s, sensitive alike to the detachment of post-modernism and to a contradictory urge towards compassionate understanding. Whatever the ultimate judgment of scholars and critics,” Shewring concluded, “this compelling, essentially apolitical interpretation will earn its place in the collective memory of performance history” (184).

H. R. Coursen, in his 2002 book Shakespeare in Space: Recent Shakespeare Productions on Screen (38–45), discussed this production in detail, comparing and contrasting it with its original stage version and arguing that the television version “is splendidly scaled to its medium” (39). He thought that sometimes “the issue of gender” (since Richard is played as effeminate) “obscures the point about Richard’s political position” (41) but that in any case the “production belongs to Shaw,” who “graphs Richard’s manic surges and depressed drops superbly in the seaside scene” (42). He admired the way the words were “beautifully spoken”; said it “emphasizes personal relationships”; found the king’s relationships with Bolingbroke and his wife “movingly depicted”; noted that the “death of Richard ends this version”; and thought it therefore “serves then as a generic contrast to the 1978 version” (45).

In an end-of-the-book abstract to a 2008 essay titled “Politics and Mise-en-Scene in Television Versions of King Richard II,” Michael Hattaway, comparing and contrasting this version with several others, “proposed that the small size of television screens has encouraged directors to reduce the political arena occupied by this play so that television versions have tended to focus on personality and tragedy rather than issues and politics” (350).

Commenting again on the Warner version in his 2010 book Contemporary Shakespeare Production (46–53), Herbert R. Coursen called it “spectacular”; said it rivalled the 1978 BBC version; wrote that “Shaw plays Richard as a homosexual male in love with his cousin Bolingbroke”; noted that it contains varied references to Shaw as male (46); and asserted that Bolingbroke kills Richard for highly personal reasons. Coursen considered the set effective; suggested that this Bolingbrook loves this Richard; and contended that each of them “yearns for the completeness the other represents” (48). Finding flaws in the fight scene (1.3) and disliking Richard’s stereotypically effeminate behavior (48–49), Coursen thought that the “issue of gender obscures the point about Richard’s precarious political position” and in various ways found this production less subtle than the BBC version (49). Saying that the “production belongs to Shaw,” he praised her performance; especially admired the deposition (in which physical behavior is effectively used); and asserted that this production “emphasizes the Queen’s piety, suggesting that she represents that dead or dying sacramental set of values that Gaunt describes that might have resisted Bolingbrook’s incursion” (51). Coursen wrote that the “finale is a possibly confusing conflation of Richard’s prison soliloquy and his assassination”; called this production “beautifully spoken”; said it “emphasizes personal relationships, as befits the scale of the medium”; and concluded that this version and the BBC version valuably highlight each other’s differences (52).

2001 Richard Farrell Production

Directed by Richard Farrell, this film starred Matte Osian as Richard; Kadina de Elejalde as Isabel; Barry Smith as Bolingbroke; Ellen Zachos as Aumerle; and Robert F. McCafferty as Northumberland.

Discussing this adaptation in a 2008 essay titled “Richard II on the Screen,” Charles Forker wrote that “Farrell’s experimental attempt to re-imagine Shakespeare’s drama as guerilla warfare in a repellent third-world setting is probably the most cinematic” of twentieth-century filmed productions of this play when “judged merely in terms of the freedom with which the medium is employed. Unfettered from exaggerated respect for the literary quality of Shakespeare’s play and uninterested in its historic or traditional values, Farrell endeavours,” according to Forker, “to construct an entirely new work using the old text as a base. Altering language, context and plot wherever and whenever the spirit moves him, Farrell sets out to address a new, alienated audience and to say something entirely different from what traditionalists and purists expect. Such an aesthetic, of course, can be defended,” although Forker defended the idea more than its execution in this film (73).

2012 Rupert Goold Production

Directed by Rupert Goold as the first episode in a British television series titled The Hollow Crown, this adaptation starred Ben Whishaw as Richard II; Rory Kinnear as Henry Bolingbroke; Patrick Stewart as John of Gaunt; David Suchet as Duke of York; David Morrissey as Earl of Northumberland; Tom Hughes as Aumerle; and James Purefoy as Duke of Norfolk. [For more on the series as a whole, see The Hollow Crown.]

Commenting on this version in his 2013 book Small-Screen Shakespeare, Peter Cochran (128–30) criticized various incongruities; noted examples of bad costuming; and condemned unconvincing special effects. He thought the realistic setting made Richard look especially foolish, partly because Richard needs a more theatrical setting and delivery to be credible (128–29). Cochran found the comparison of Richard to Christ unconvincing (129); said this production offered little humor; but admired the close-up photography (130).

Bibliography