Richard III, Shakespeare's Globe review

The press night for The Globe’s summer production of Richard III was one of relentless rain. Audience members huddled together on the theatre’s wooden benches and poncho-clad groundlings bravely withstood the elements in the open-air yard.

The atmosphere felt oddly prophetic given the storm of controversy that surrounded Michelle Terry’s production before the run even started. The announcement in January that Terry herself would be playing Shakespeare’s eponymous “deformed, unfinished” king led to vocal criticism from disabled actors who accused her of “cripping up”.

Michelle Terry as Richard, Duke of Gloucester. Photography by Marc Brenner.

Over years of performances, King Richard’s scoliosis has become conflated with his murderous villainy, a physical manifestation of his terrible nature. Many well-known actors have played the part with exaggerated limps or false hunchbacks. It was only as recent as 2022 that a disabled actor took on the role of Richard for the first time, when Arthur Hughes played the king in a production at the Royal Shakespeare Company.

Facing down her critics, however, Terry does away with Richard’s disability in its entirety. Instead, under Elle While’s direction, the production becomes a grotesque caricature of toxic masculinity. Its leering, posturing king plots out his vicious rise to the top in a jarring mimic of the misogynist dystopia of Trumpian, right-wing politics.  

As Richard’s careering route to power gains more traction, so too does Terry’s persona. Her interpretation of Richard shifts from a sneering, frustrated figure on the sidelines of the royal court, to a puffed up, swaggering peacock in a green fur coat and prosthetic sixpack. She handles the role with ease, injecting the darker moments with a clever, black humoured comedy, but at times risks sliding too much into the realm of cartoonish Disney villain.

In contrast, Helen Schlesinger is brilliant as Buckingham, Richard’s right-hand man. Reappearing in the second half in a pinstripe suit and with bouffant hair, she is every measure the fawning sidekick that makes up the political entourage of so many of the world’s most powerful men.  Despite the large ensemble cast, this is a well-considered character study that focuses its energy on a few central characters.

Emma Lucy Hughes uses costumes to great effect throughout. Of note is the decline of Lady Anne (Katie Erich), tracked through her shift from the utilitarian, leather-clad dress of a late King’s wife to a mute, doll-like figure in a stiffly framed gown, well-coiffed hair and overly rouged cheeks that are borderline clownish. As she collapses dead after drinking poison, Richard barely gives her a second glance.

This is a performance designed to unsettle its audience. Live music that includes saxophones, a trumpet and percussion provide a fast-paced, borderline frantic backdrop that sits somewhere between jazz and electronic, reflecting the maniacal turmoil unfolding in the court below.

There is a slight lag towards the end of the first half, and at times, actors seem to struggle with the theatre’s acoustics. However, it picks up again after the interval, with Richard’s demise taking place over a few short and punchy scenes and a quick, cleverly choreographed battle. As the king’s dead body is unceremoniously dumped into a bloody trapdoor and the performance is rounded off with Richmond (Sam Crerar) leading the cast in an energised victory dance, there is a distinct sense of hopefulness that transcends the dystopian horrors of the previous two hours.

Overall, this is a high-energy and ambitious production that forces its audience to reconsider the motivations of one of history’s most notorious kings. Its strongest moments come through in the parallels with contemporary culture and politics – moments that had the audience laughing at the time, but offer an unsettling and thought-provoking critique that lasts long beyond an evening at the theatre.

Richard III is on 1 June – 3 August 2024 at The Globe Theatre. Find out more and buy tickets here.

 Words by Ellen Hodgetts