Sad Stories of the Death of Kings: RICHARD II

Like many Americans, I suspect, my first experience with David Tennant's acting was his role as the stunningly insane Barty Crouch, Jr., in 2005's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Since then I have come to love him as my Doctor (the Tenth and best) in Doctor Who, and yesterday, thanks to the wonders of technology, I was able to watch him mesmerize as Richard II in a live cinema broadcast from the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-Upon-Avon.

This was my first experience with a live-beamed performance, and it didn't disappoint. The RSC is known for the quality and care of its productions, and -- aside from this summer's terribly misguided production of Hamlet starring Jonathan Slinger -- I've never seen anything there that wasn't visually stunning. The stage and lighting design for Richard II are gorgeous. Using projection on long hanging strands of fine chain, the stage comes alive as the interior of Westminster Abbey, the hills of Gloucestershire, and the dank interior of Richard's final prison. (Oh, yeah, spoiler alert...) At the same time, the chain gives the images a slightly indefinite quality, making them a little hazy and always just out of reach, not quite real...perfect for the equally delicate energy that Tennant gives his Richard.

The most observable benefit to watching a live cinema broadcast over attending the play live is that the camera can show close-ups of the actors' faces. Unless you're able to spring for the really expensive seats, you're not likely to catch the nuances of expression and gesture watching a play live that you can get from a broadcast performance, and although the camera does control your gaze in a way that live theatre doesn't, I'm glad that I got to see these performers up close, because the cast is universally strong and give powerhouse performances.

The star here is, of course, David Tennant. Clad in long white robes and flowing auburn hair, he's fairly obviously Christ-like, the martyred lamb Richard believes himself to be. Tennant brings the same nervous energy and edginess to Richard as is observable in his Doctor. At the same time, he shows a restraint that honestly I wasn't sure he was capable of. I've seen other amazing Richards. Most recently, Ben Whishaw, whom I'm loved since I saw his debut performance as Hamlet straight out of RADA, astonished me with his delicately fey and frail Richard in the BBC's sumptuous The Hollow Crown. Most actors seem to choose the dainty route for Richard, and Tennant certainly has some of that vulnerability, particularly in his wide-eyed stares and twitching smiles.

Unlike Whishaw, however, Tennant's Richard has an undercurrent of more manic energy that gives a stronger pathos to some of his soliloquies, particularly towards the end of the play as his life unravels. This energy never tips him into Barty Crouch territory, though, instead giving the impression of a king who constantly walks the knife-edge between disregard for the rules to which he doesn't believe a king is bound and vulnerability to the same worries that plague us all: whether he is feared, whether he is respected, whether he is loved. Tennant's combination of skittish, almost childlike energy, pompous haughtiness, and raw emotional vulnerability makes his Richard the obvious center of the play. I found it impossible to take my eyes off him, even when he shared the stage with others.

To so dominate the stage with this cast is a real feat. Jane Lapotaire, as the Duchess of Gloucester, sets the tone for the production early in the play despite being only in one scene. She veers from collapsing into tears for her murdered husband to demanding vengeance on his murderers to confusion as to what her role is now that her beloved husband is dead. She is absolutely heart-breaking.

Michael Pennington's John of Gaunt brought tears to my eyes with his dying rage at the "wasteful king" who refuses to heed him; sacrilegious though it might be, I think I found his Gaunt even better than Patrick Stewart's in The Hollow Crown. He plays the famous "sceptred isle" speech as someone who has lost so much -- his son, his king, his health, his sanity -- that he has nothing left to lose. Oliver Ford Davies brings unexpected comedy to his role as the Duke of York, emphasizing just how unfit he is to be the king in absentia that Richard asks him to be. He also brings to the forefront the emotional turmoil and confusion that must beset a man torn between loyalty to God's minister on earth and recognition that that minister is not doing the job God sent him to do. 

I will definitely jump at the chance to see live broadcasts of this kind again; at just £13 for a student ticket at Odeon, it's an excellent value for a wonderful experience.

On the Raggedy Edge: GRAVITY

When I first saw the trailer for Gravity, I turned to my husband and said "I don't see how that movie could be more than two minutes long." How could a person disconnected from any life support systems and drifting in open space possibly survive?

Clocking in at a brisk 91 minutes, Gravity runs full-tilt for almost the entire time in answering that question. It is the sort of movie that is best if you don't know too many plot details, so I will try not to give too much away. It is sufficient to say that the film is stunningly beautiful. If you went only to see the visuals, it would be worth the price of admission. 

It's also surprisingly feminist. There is no inherent reason why Dr. Ryan Stone (played by Sandra Bullock) would have to be female. To make her so is a gutsy choice, considering the still-prevalent Hollywood notion that a woman can't anchor a box office success (despite what The Hunger Games suggested with its numbers). It is also an encouraging one; here is a film in which we are limited almost entirely to a single female "focalizer" character through whose point of view we observe the story's events. At times, director Alfonso Cuarón's camera even presents the viewer with shots directly from Stone's point-of-view: we see what she sees.

In other words, Bullock's Dr. Ryan Stone is a subject, not an object. Despite sharing the screen with George Clooney, God of Sex Appeal, she is not subjected to that problematic "male gaze" that objectifies women as primarily sex objects even when they're supposed to be intelligent, important characters. As a case in point: consider actress Alice Eve's Carol Marcus being displayed in her underwear for no good reason in Star Trek: Into Darkness. There are two scenes in which Stone is shown in skimpy clothes, but they don't come across as being there simply to show off Bullock's body. (Admittedly, "real" astronauts wear be-tubed long underwear and adult diapers under their spacesuits rather than tank tops and tiny gym shorts, so Stone's apparel is unrealistic, but I can forgive that if only for being spared the sight of Sandra Bullock in Depends.)

I was also genuinely surprised by Bullock in this movie. I've never had a problem with her as an actress, but I've also never thought of her as particularly talented; amiable, sure, but not terribly nuanced. My opinion of her has been completely changed with her performance here. Carrying a movie almost entirely on one's shoulders is something very few actresses are required to do, and Bullock pulls it off. She projects convincing vulnerability and heartbreak, but also steely determination and clear-headedness when it is called for. If she doesn't get an Oscar nomination for Gravity there's no justice in the world.

The word "jaw-dropping" is thrown around a lot; just this afternoon, I saw a sign for "jaw-dropping specials" on produce at the grocery store. I don't think that's appropriate, any more than it is generally so for the movies it's applied to (sorry, Transformers), but it is here. During several scenes my jaw literally hung agape, as I clutched my seat and squirmed and crossed my fingers that things would work. As I watched I was reminded of Ang Lee's Life of Pi; although the two films have very little else in common, I experienced the same sense of visual wonder in Life of Pi that I did in Gravity. I felt in both movies as though I were seeing things that I had never seen before, things that weren't of this world (as indeed, in Gravity they aren't). I have a feeling that images from this movie will stick with me for a long, long time.

Gravity is the only movie I can recall since Avatar -- a laughably inferior product -- in which the 3D seems integral to the film, and seeing it without it would lessen the effect. Cough up the extra money for a 3D ticket, Real3D if you can get it, and sit as close to the screen as possible. Don't check your phone (it's rude anyway). Don't look away. As one of the characters says, it'll be a hell of a ride.