Derek Jacobi's Richard II: Ambiguities Answered

The plain text of a script does not live and breathe as a visual performance must. Both director and actors have to make choices in a production, to interpret and make clear the plot and purpose of the play. The Derek Jacobi Richard II uses the capabilities of film to remove many of the ambiguities that plague interpretation of that text. In doing so, it creates a passionate yet ineffective King Richard who, between his own insecurity and Northumberland's conniving, hurls the crown to the willing if uneasy Bullingbrook.

Richard's character becomes evident through costume, acting, and script choices. Throughout the play, Richard wears some of the lightest colors on stage -- his white robe at court in I.i, his sky-blue garments at the lists in I.iii, even a pure white robe as opposed to the off-white the "caterpillars" wear in the bathroom in I.iv. Even in the deposition sequence of IV.i, the brown robe Richard is clad in is still light, almost pastel. This wardrobe choice has two effects. The light colors draw visual attention to Richard, just as he continually tries to draw aural attention with his high-flown speeches. Yet the constant parade of pastels and watered-down shades also makes Richard look weak, particularly next to the more soberly-dressed court or the much darker-clad Bullingbrook and Northumberland. Richard's costume style reinforces the impression: in the white robe he seems to typically use for court occasions, the huge sleeves incapacitate his hands (obviously intended in the period as an emblem of leisure, but here also serving as an image of powerlessness) and the high collar forces his neck up, strengthening an appearance of arrogance and aloofness.

The choices made in setting and in Derek Jacobi's portrayal of Richard II also reinforce the impression of a decadent monarch, a king more in style than substance. The studied pause at Richard's first entrance in I.i to allow for pomp and ceremony, the way the king eyes Bullingbrook and Mowbray in turn to see which can flatter better in this "love-auction" of justice, all make Richard look more fop than wise king. The sudden cut to one of the half-naked "caterpillars" in the bath on Richard's line "What reverence he did throw away on slaves" (I.iv.27) brings up the question of who the genuine lackeys are in this world. And Richard, Green, and Bagot's casual drinking in the bathhouse, as well as Richard's loud giggle at the mention of war, do little to affirm the quality of his character. The raucous laughter of Richard and the caterpillars announce their entrance to Gaunt's house ("The King is come," II.i.69), and his followers seem to pose or "vogue" as they enter, showing off their fine features and clothes. The pouches of scented herbs, or whatever they are, that the King and his entourage all sniff from reinforce an impression of decadence.

The blocking, or stage movements, that Jacobi uses to play Richard II further solidify his appearance of weakness. In the famous harangue of II.i, when John of Gaunt takes Richard to task for being "landlord of England... now, not king" (II.i.113), Richard will not face Gaunt: struck by the reproof, he paces in silence, facing the fireplace, his flatterers, anywhere but towards the one who exposes his foolishness. Richard runs from adverse suggestions, or, rather, from suggestions that expose his imperfect treatment of his kingdom. Ironically, even as Gaunt claims Richard is no longer king, we see the King for the first time (other than the bathhouse) without his crown -- a visual amplification of the verbal claim?

Interestingly, Jacobi appears to have avoided the near-traditional portrayal of Richard as a homosexual, half-naked meetings in the bathhouse notwithstanding. To all appearances, Richard loves his queen dearly. He takes her hand and smiles before his speech in the lists in I.iii. In the tenderly-played parting scene in V.i, Richard instigates the farewell kisses, and his "my love" is delivered sincerely, as are his kisses. No, this Richard II is bisexual at most, and very probably heterosexual when he is not being narcissistic. Richard's queen herself, while very young in this production, certainly holds her own. She is witty even in her melancholy, in the garden scene in III.iv, and she shows especially strong against the Gardener, who finds both the meat of his political analogy (III.iv.55-66) and his rebuttal to her parting curse (III.iv.101-107) cut from the script.

The question of Richard as Christ-figure is likewise given an ambiguous answer by the Jacobi production. During Richard's return to England in III.ii, his line "Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas!" seems said not with the deepness of the metaphor for Christ betrayed, but in a fashion to suggest the shallower metaphor of simple betrayal, the figure of speech extending no further than the object -- Bushy, Bagot, and Green as supposed traitors. A crucifix does appear prominently behind Richard in his dungeon in Pomfret castle, but then, some of the "caterpillars" wore crosses, so it need not represent more than false piety. The din of Richard's fingertips drumming, his wide, staring eyes, the cuts from scene to scene as Richard's term of imprisonment and his speech both drive on, all combine to give an impression of growing madness, perhaps of a manic-depressive. Richard may still be a reformed saint, but apparently a mad one as well. And when Exton stabs him in the back, it seems a visual restatement of how Richard may feel his own subjects treated him in his dethronement.

If the Jacobi production seems to portray Richard as a king ripe for overthrow, it also seems to bolster the character and claims of Bullingbrook. Bullingbrook looks powerful: a large man, his impassive face concealed behind a bulky beard (not a thin scraggle effetely gathered into twin horns, like Richard's or the ailing Gaunt's), dressed always in earth tones or rich, dark colors, and speaking but seldom, especially as the "silent king" (IV.i.290) of Richard's entreaties. In the first confrontation between Bullingbrook and Mowbray, in I.i, Bullingbrook has an array of noblemen behind him, while Mowbray's main backers seem to be a group of ecclesiastics (perhaps explaining King Henry's later trouble with the Bishop of Carlisle and the Abbot of Westminster). Bullingbrook's "How long a time lies in one little word!.... Such is the breath of kings." (I.iii.213, 215) seems almost contemptuous of Richard's cavalier removal of four years of banishment -- Bullingbrook revealing Richard's unfitness for just rule.

Even from the beginning, Bullingbrook seems ready for kingship: in the last lines of his farewell, in I.iii, he kneels and places his hand upon the ground, almost in blessing, even as Richard will do later, in III.ii. Bullingbrook's justice appears as more swift and sure than Richard's -- in III.i, Bushy and Green are brought forth in their undergarments (looking much the same as, if sadder than, in the bath scene of I.iv.), and by the end of the scene, within fifty lines, the film carries the sound of the chopping-block in use as the lords exit. Once Bullingbrook ascends the throne as Henry IV, the Jacobi production further strengthens his reign: the spate of gauntlet-throwing that begins IV.i. is totally cut, eliminating one appearance of division in the new order, and a resounding shout of "Long live Henry!" is added for the crowd of nobles. Bullingbrook's "unthrifty son" speech in V.iii is cut, so the scene jumps straight to Aumerle's frantic entrance -- when he is promptly stopped by the new king's very wary bodyguards, a precaution Richard never worried himself over. The new-crowned Henry himself may have heavy sleeves reminiscent of Richard's early costumes, but he always has a dagger in hand -- a sure sign that he is avoiding the mistakes of his predecessor.

Yet Henry IV seems no intentional usurper: the film seems to remove all guilt from him, leaving Northumberland and Richard II himself as the main architects of the fall of that monarch. The main problem scene for Bullingbrook apologists -- the sudden whisperings of Northumberland, Willoughby, and Ross at the end of II.i. -- becomes the start of Part II of the videotape, neatly separated in time and place from the preceding scene and its report of John of Gaunt's death, at the end of Part I. Presumably, news of his father's death now has time to reach Bullingbrook and to allow him to make timely and justified preparations to regain his lands, rather than providing merely a post hoc ergo propter hoc excuse. Bullingbrook seems sincere when he placates the crotchety York about his intentions, and Richard's frantically delivered "What must the king do now?" speech (III.iii.143) seems to reflect a panicking king ready almost to hurl his crown at a threatening contender -- the "Set on towards London, cousin, is it so? / Yea, my good lord." (III.iii.208-9) exchange seems very uncomfortable on Bullingbrook's part.

Bullingbrook seems even more uncomfortable in the climactic dethronement scene in IV.i. Richard gives real venom to "Here, cousin, seize the crown" (IV.i.181), prompting Bullingbrook to actually let go before asking "I thought you had been willing to resign" (IV.i.190) and, once again, "Are you contented to resign the crown?" (IV.i.200). Bullingbrook's discomfort seems to grow as Richard verbally strips himself of the kingship, nervously rattling off the order "Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass" (IV.i.268) and finally settling into the "silent king" of a straight, fixed stare, waiting for the ordeal to be over. The new monarch even gives a slight shudder as Richard finally departs and he proclaims his coronation.

No, it is Northumberland who is the real schemer behind Richard's fall, an untrustworthy politician who fully foreshadows the traitor of the Henry IV plays. The actor chosen for the part even looks distrustful, with bristling beard and beady eyes. In II.iii, Northumberland snickers at the faithful York behind his back, mocking his steadfast loyalty to Richard, and in III.i, his glare helps silence York's attempted interruption of Bullingbrook's "sinful hours" accusation. Northumberland is the last to kneel before King Richard in III.iii, before desolate Flint Castle, and the only one not kneeling before Richard's corpse at the end of the play. Northumberland and York exchange distrustful looks at the start of IV.i, as the architect of the new and guardian of the old orders shift power. And Northumberland badgers Richard continuously, from clapping him on the shoulder and thrusting the summary of charges at him, expressively rolling his eyes at the dethroned king's constant refusals, to his smug parting of Richard and his queen.

The Derek Jacobi production of Richard II provides its own answers to many of the ambiguities posed by the text alone. Richard is portrayed as an ineffective ruler ripe for overthrow, and Bullingbrook as a more capable man boosted to power by the scheming of the Machiavellian Northumberland. Many other interpretations are valid -- indeed, some of this production's choices were made easier by judicious cuts in the script -- but this production provides an entertaining, reasonable, and self-consistent interpretation of the welter of events surrounding the deposition of a king. And, in so doing, the production proves the almost limitless variety of theater, particularly of Shakespeare.