Edward II is a play which considers the question: what would happen if the King of England was in love with a demon twunk?
The RSC’s new adaptation of Christopher Marlowe’s classic historical play tells the tragic true story of King Edward II, whose love of “favourite” Piers Gaveston led to a political breakdown between himself and his magnates. Though historians disagree on whether their love was “brotherly” or if they were in a homosexual relationship, the result was the same – the nobility did not like the smarmy upstart Gaveston, and had him banished three times over the course of his life. He was ultimately hunted down and murdered in 1312.
The real Edward II ruled between 1307 and 1327, but the RSC chose modern clothing for this production, with the nobility in ceremonial military dress and Gaveston and his cronies in soft silks and east London Gay fuckboy garb – tiny tattoos, frosted tips and white vests. This works especially well for the interactive opening, reminiscent of Queen Elizabeth’s death, as the audience walks around the coffin of Edward’s father lying in state. The noble cast stand around the coffin protectively, heads down, never breaking character. The lights then dip, rising on Eloka Ivo’s Piers Gaveston live from the balcony sauna, topless and wrapped in a towel surrounded by friends also wrapped in towels, giving the opening speech announcing his return from exile. Though he is bound to the banishment whims of the noble classes, Ivo’s forceful confidence leaves little doubt as to his ability to hypnotise and captivate the king. And though he doesn’t deserve to be cast-out, he is an unlikeable dick – tearing at the clothes of the bishop on Edward’s command.
Gay theatre legend Daniel Evans, who is now also co-artistic director of the RSC, takes the lead role, rushing up to snog Ivo’s Gaveston with a labrador-like affection upon his arrival back in England. Evans’ physical theatre when the pair are together – straddling over Ivo’s legs and putting a sceptre behind his neck as he knights him, leaping onto his frame and wrapping his legs around his waist, kissing him with fiery passion – is so at-odds with his stiff costuming, as to make the taboo of their love utterly believable. Edward II is down bad. It also feels like the kind of acting that can only feel sincere coming from a man who is actually Queer. Coming from a straight actor it could feel like they were taking the piss, but on Evans you are utterly convinced that he is in love with this man.
As one might expect with an Elizabethan historical drama, there is a LOT of politicking in this script, which can slow down even the paciest play (the whole thing clocks in at 1hr40, no interval). Luckily Ruta Gedmintas’ brilliant turn as the scorned Queen Isabella adds a lot of colour and feeling to the show, as she clomps about the stage in heeled boots looking increasingly desperate and pissed off at being cucked by Gaveston. I kept expecting her to say “there were three of us in the marriage” between puffs of her cigarette.
The show gets increasingly bloody over the 100 minutes, and is not for the faint-hearted. Though it isn’t quite Titus Andronicus-level gore, Gaveston’s murder does involve the spilling out of fake guts, and Edward’s murder had my jaw drop (I wouldn’t recommend reading the Wikipedia page on his death beforehand either, unless you want to be clenching all through the second half). But there is a chicness afforded to the violence thanks to staging, as the mosaic floors peel back to reveal a sopping dungeon pool – the recessed levels mean some angles are left to the imagination, all the better for it.
The mood of the staging also feels remarkably modern, dark and dramatic, the action punctuated by brilliant orchestrations of techno and metal, the stage framed by simple beams of white light against black. The harshness of the royal establishment backdrop stops the play ever drifting into a soft, luxuriant Queer love story, aside from a few moments in which Gaveston’s friends Spenser and Baldock roll around the stage alone.
Not staged by the RSC since 1990, Daniel Raggett’s production comes alive in the modern context, in which Queerness is no longer illegal or shocking, but still has the potential to disrupt and disturb the political establishment. Despite the camp theatrics of pomp and circumstance, Queerness will always be regarded with suspicion by the classes whose job it is to maintain convention. This is a game of thrones (and bloodlines), after all. But whether or not we could ever have a Gay king in 2025, almost everyone can relate to feeling like your friends hate your boyfriend. It just shouldn’t have to end in bloody murder.
Edward II is on at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-Upon-Avon until April 5. Get tickets here.
