Edward II

The rights of kings may well have been divine in the fourteenth century, but that was only so long as you could carry the support of the church, your wife and the powerful nobles upon whom this whole ... The rights of kings may well have been divine in the fourteenth century, but that was only so long as you could carry the support of the church, your wife and the powerful nobles upon whom this whole game of political jenga was based. When Edward II (Steven Waddington) decides to tempt just about all of these pillars of support by openly parading his lover Gaveston (Andrew Tiernan) to his court, it seems to manage something that had hitherto be rare in his kingdom. It galvanised just about everyone into a position where the proper order had to be restored and the boyfriend sent into exile. Initially, the king tries to assert his authority and even reduces an archbishop (Dudley Sutton) to degradation, but with his wife (Tilda Swinton) and her powerful lover Mortimer (Nigel Terry) increasingly aware that the crown can be their’s with little risk of protest from anyone, things become distinctly perilous for the king and any who support him. Derek Jarman has heavily abridged Christopher Marlowe’s speculative play, and by mixing the aesthetics of the twentieth century with more contemporary ones, and by the very creative use of a soundtrack, he creates a visually stylised account of the ultimate in treason that I admit, I struggled to appreciate. I do recall seeing this first time around and being frankly rather bored. Thirty-odd years later I can probably appreciate the artistry rather better and my brain is better wired for the intensity of the dialogue, but it’s still a remarkably sterile interpretation of a story of treachery, brutality and lust. Sure, there’s nudity and simulated sex, but the rapport between Waddington and Tiernan was often akin to that of silent film actors working within the confines of some theatrical wings. The hybrid of production styles only really served to leave it dangling between two stools and the storytelling itself is sacrificed to the artifice too frequently, leaving us with a very skeletal take of this turbulent time in English history. Annie Lennox singing Cole Porter whilst the two, pyjama-clad, men have a dance is an intimate highlight but I’m afraid the rest is just too superficial.