Four history plays in London

What makes this season so unusual, however, is the presence of no fewer than four history plays in London now — two traditional, two definitely not. And those latter two are causing quite a stir.

Sweet creature of bombast

First, the traditional ones. Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Parts I and II, now running at the Barbican Center, offer the kind of Royal Shakespeare Company treatment that one both anticipates and appreciates. Gregory Doran’s staging is clear and stately. The company is skilled and agile; the language is spoken with elegance and precision. The classical music is live, the sword fights are flashy, and the candlelit processions proceed with a flourish. It’s all pageant and ritual, the kind to make Anglophiles want to swim across the Atlantic to see.

True, these Henrys are a challenge to watch in one day (seen together, they last over six hours), but they are kept alive by the compelling human triangle at the plays’ heart, among Henry IV, his son Prince Hal, and Hal’s profligate mentor Sir John Falstaff, who exerts a wayward influence over the young monarch-to-be. Falstaff is one of the great comedic figures of the Shakespearean canon — a larger than life bon vivant, buffoon, and rogue on the one hand, and a wit and a philosopher on the other. Antony Sher, who is delightful in the role, keeps the play moving. Alex Hassell is a tender Prince Hal, and Jasper Britton is a devoted King Henry who is trying to keep his son in line. It’s a moving coming-of-age story about fathers and sons set in the larger context of royal succession and the ultimate duty of a young man to his father, his country, and his tradition.

What will Charles do?

With the heavy weight of tradition in the air, just imagine the impact of a brand new history play on the West End, written in Shakespearean style and yet set in the future. Its title — King Charles III — is a shock, isn’t it? After all, the current heir apparent’s mother, Queen Elizabeth II, is very much alive and in the 63nd year of her reign. But not according to this audacious new work. Playwright Mike Bartlett imagines that the Queen has died and Charles is about to be crowned king. But the brave stand that Charles takes against Parliament in the days before his coronation sets a plot in motion to overthrow the future king that rivals Macbeth in its treachery and intrigue.

The thrills of King Charles III are multifold. On the one hand, it’s Shakespearean in form and tragic in impact. Staged by Rupert Goold with the same RSC solemnity and pomp as the Henrys, it features many Shakespearean dramaturgical elements, including blank verse, soliloquies, medieval music, and even a ghost (Princess Diana’s). At some moments, its faithfulness to Shakespeare borders on parody. On the other hand, it features all the familiar dramatis personae of today’s royal family: Charles, Camilla, William, Kate Middleton (in a delicious Lady Macbeth-like role), Harry (a wild child, like Prince Hal), and so on. So the story plays almost like a modern-day monarchical thriller.

The similarities between King Charles III and Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Parts I and II are striking. Both are father-son plays; both deal with the themes of loyalty, betrayal, and adherence to tradition. Ultimately, Bartlett’s bold, brilliant play is a coup de théâtre — historic in stature and urgently contemporary in its expression of the zeitgeist. With the Queen approaching 90 and the question of succession hanging in the air (William is evidently more popular than his father Charles), the value of the monarchy itself is once again a hot topic in England. This arresting production (led by Tim Pigott-Smith as Charles) is the most compelling new play in the current theater season.

History, American-style

To call Assassins, Stephen Sondheim’s dark, disturbing operetta, a “history play” might be perverse, but it invites that categorization. We don’t have the tradition of the “history play” in American drama, so more’s the reason to take note of Sondheim’s bold assemblage of horrific historical figures on the tiny Menier Chocolate Factory Stage on London’s South Bank. “Listen to the story, listen to the song / Every now and then a country goes a little wrong,” sings the narrator as Sondheim presents a collage of American assassins who have either attempted or succeeded to take lives of presidents from Abraham Lincoln to JFK.

Remounting this celebrated 1990 musical in such violent times might be seen as pouring salt on open wounds. But director Jamie Lloyd is not only faithful to Sondheim’s original vision of the carnival setting, he also augments it to a surrealistic realm, lifting it out of time. A giant clown head through whose gaping mouth the ghoulish narrator and other characters enter and exit occupies one end of the tiny Menier stage. The stage blazes with light as deadly shots are fired, “hit” or “miss” signs are illuminated, and rows of actors don Ronald Reagan masks to face the next assassin. It’s like watching a play of intrigue and murder in the Jacobean tradition.

Director Jamie Lloyd could have used this opportunity to make a negative statement about America and our penchant for violence. Instead, he made Assassins everyone’s nightmare and a universal statement on the too-frequent tragedy of leadership in history. “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” says Henry IV in Part II. That statement couldn’t be more vividly dramatized than in these powerful productions about the perils of those who rule.