The Lion In Winter

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

It demands a couple loving each other deeply and dearly, not trusting each other, and knowing each other’s capabilities. To survive the bantering Henry and Eleanor tumble through engaged in curled sharp edge tongued verbal combat the love must dig deep.

Nathan Bock (Richard) and Jan Cleveland (Eleanor) in the Denver Victorian’s The Lion in Winter.

That’s King Henry II, frequently referred to as England’s greatest medieval king, and his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, brought to quivering powerful life by Wade P. Wood and Jan Cleveland.

James Goldman’s astonishing play, The Lion In Winter, nestles down onto the Denver Victorian Playhouse stage as though it belongs there. On an awesome castled set designed by Sarah Roshan, Director Rick Bernstein maneuvers the well-chosen cast through harsh psychological warfare, dickering in word play and foreplay.

Most people don’t know how to fight fairly, either giving into brutal violent anger or withdrawing; digging for hurtful revenge. With all of the books and seminars on How to fight fairly, Henry and Eleanor’s mind boggling relationship should be required reading.

Wood gives one of the most powerful performances of his career as the crafty, conniving, sniggering Henry. Cleveland’s natural regal stance serves her well as Eleanor. The subtleties of expression exchanged between Henry and Eleanor electrify their chemistry and verbal dance, sending shock waves throughout the theatre.

Henry’s kingdom encompassed the largest territory in Europe, including England, Normandy, and Anjou. Although cloistered in her own prison by Henry, Eleanor ruled the vast area of Aquitaine.

Henry must think ahead. Who will be king when his reign ends? With three sons to consider, Eleanor favors Richard (Nathan Bock), a brilliant military strategist. Henry’s favorite flirts with the boy-man, John (Seth Maisel). That leaves the intellectual Geoffrey (Christian Mast) alone to hang by his own wit. Aye! A powerful kingdom left in the hands of the 12th century’s most powerful dysfunctional family.

A fictional story laced with Goldman’s hypothetical interjections of the “might be’s” and “could be’s,” his brilliant contemporary writing provides a universal truth cultivated in the biting words. The high-powered verbal blasting may have a great deal to do with the popularity of The Lion In Winter. Henry calls a Christmas court at The Chinon palace to answer the question: who will be king? In actuality, what Henry wants, only Eleanor can grant. Ah, the spider grows stronger as its web tightens with complicated laced intricacies.

Bock wears the role of Richard with heavy armor and a deep lined etched face. No one has to say he is a brilliant military strategist. Bock etches the concept into Richard’s physicalities.

Richard doesn’t have to concern himself with Bock getting in the way. As an angry military strategist, Richard understands well the backlash of the mind games, and he isn’t about to take a back seat to anyone. Bock creates a formidable character in Richard, one that won’t be easy to forget. The dark angry eyes beam off the stage into the audience stark and bright as one of the spotlights.

At the opposite end of the spectrum stands John, the boy-man posing uncontrolled emotions on the edge of a shoulder, flitting between giggles, hurt feelings, and little boy-child tantrums. It doesn’t matter, he’s Henry’s favorite, and he knows it, or thinks he knows it. Maisel brings out the child play from giggles to tantrums with cryptic ease.

On Opening Night, Maisel struggled for balance for the spoiled little boy brat. In the beginning pushing him to be a little too silly through most of Act I. Guiding Maisel to balance, some of John’s crafty expressions from far off corners demanded chilling attention. Often missing the significance of Henry and Eleanor’s mind games, John tends to jump to conclusions, as little brat boys do in men’s bodies, taking turmoiled anger straight to the top. When Maisel found his balance with John, he sucked air from the lungs.

Frequently, off in a corner by himself, Mast nurses his aloneness in Geoffrey’s soul, allowing intellect to nurse his wounds with scheming calculation and explosive vibrations.

Mast’s nervousness on Opening Night pinned Geoffrey against the back wall until Geoffrey’s desperate need to be heard overtook Mast. For Geoffrey, Mast needs a wig. His too short hair spoke out-of-place-volumes. He almost looked look like a time traveler from the 20th century invading this powerful family. Once Mast allowed Geoffrey to get his feet solidly under him in the midst of conniving screaming schemes, Geoffrey’s intelligent power crept through influential cracks.

Phillip, France’s boy King comes to life under Ryan Everett Howard’s tutoring. Phillip may be young, but he learned the teachings of the political arena well. The scene where he manages to pit Richard, John, and Geoffrey against each other leaves him shining under the spotlight. With the brothers tumbling over each other in verbal gymnastics, Phillip’s self-imposing smile turns from sneaky, to sly, to sinister. Eerie as it may be, the spotlight matches the deepening of his smile. The spot grows smaller and brighter, cloaked by a self-pleasing sinister smile, marking a huge memorable theatrical moment not to be forgotten any time soon.

Phillip needs darker tights. (Pants would suit him well.) Flesh colored tights looked like bare legs. No one in the 12th century would be running around England at Christmas with bare legs. Not only wrong, and out of place, but a major distraction.

Heather Kaloust takes on the role of Alais with political charmed savvy. Eleanor’s daughter from her first marriage, Alais has been promised to Richard in marriage. It is Henry she loves, and Henry’s mistress she has become. To marry Richard she must give up Henry. To stay with Henry, Alais knows all too well the risk she hangs on her life, much less the lives of his heirs she might bear. Young, beautiful, and proud, Alais’ eyes see further then the desperate lovesick Henry. Kaloust does a magnificent job projecting the innocent and not so innocent qualities surrounding Alais.

For the most part the costume design by Susan Lyles fits the 12th century mode to a “T”, with some rough-around-the edges-glitches: a wig for Geoffrey, “something other” for Phillip.

A brilliant concept for stagehands to be included in the story as Pages. To be a Page, one needs to dress like a Page. Played by Vanessa Bowie and Fiona Turnbull, the dispiriting length of the green plaid dresses look like Catholic Girls School Uniform rejects instead of Page outfits. The distracting green plaid stands highly questionable for a Page in the court of the King of England.

Karalyn Star Pytel holds a penchant for her lighting designs matching obvious and subtle emotions expressed and repressed by the characters and content of the play.

Roshan’s set design of Henry’s Chinon palace appears bigger than life, expanding the Playhouse’s stage boundaries. The gray-castled walls play straight into the nine scenes through a comfortable equation. Simple changes of tables, chairs and areas speak directly to where each scene takes place within the palace walls. It’s a masterpiece of designed illusion.

Glitches or no, The Lion In Winter at the Denver Victorian Playhouse should definitely be a “Must See” for the rich character development, the intriguing story, the brilliant set design, the intense astute direction, creating an over all powerful production. Call with a couple of dates for reservations. Your first choice may be sold out.