VILLAIN OF THE PIECE

Press, 15 November 1984, Page 13

VILLAIN OF THE PIECE

But was it Richard 111 or William Shakespeare?

“The Trial of Richard III”, produced by London Weekend . Television, has been shown, to critical acclaim, in Britain. (It is now being evaluated by the New Zealand Broadcasting Corporation). Here, reproduced from the London “Observer”, ANTONY SHER, who plays Richard in the current Royal Shakespeare Company production, puts Shakespeare’s character into historical perspective.

“Sir, I read in the papers that you are yet another actor to ignore truth and integrity in order to launch yourself on an ego trip by the monstrous lie perpetrated by Shakespearp about a most valiant knight and honourable man and most excellent king, Richard 111. Do you really wish to go to the disgraceful extreme of emulating Olivier in his disgusting film.” So began a letter I received shortly after I started acting Richard 111 for the Royal Shakespearean Company earlier this year. Clearly it was from one of that group of twentieth-century citizens fanatically dedicated to restoring the reputation of a fif-teenth-century king falsely portrayed by a sixteenth-century playwright. I had inadvertently strayed into the middle of this historical crossfire and was somehow being held personally responsible for posterity’s inky-black image of Richard.

When I agreed to play the part, I had, of course, realised that it involved considerable risks. I was following in some famous footsteps. There was always the danger that I might injure myself, professionally or physically, as I limped with twisted spine along them. But I had not anticipated this — abuse from a total stranger just for appearing in the play at all. In preparing for the role, I had been haunted by two famous and totally conflicting manifestations of Richard 111. There is a painting of the historical Richard in the National Gallery. It shows a sensitive, diffident character turning away from the viewer. The face is strained, the brow beginning to clench, the eyes rather sore. It i? almost as if the sitter had some prescience of the controversy that would rage over his head for centuries to come and was deeply and understandably embarrassed. The other Richard that haunted me was more sinister. Long black hair framing the face, long pointed nose thrusting it forward, cold reptilian eyes, the high-pitched voice speaking with a clipped, poised delivery.' Olivier’s film

strangles one’s imagination as one reaches for the part. Clearly, if I was to achieve an interpretation of my own, I would have first to solve this basic contradiction: why the real Richard shies away from our gaze while Shakespeare’s Richard leans in towards us, leering. Richard was born in 1452. The Wars of the Roses were just about to begin and would last for much of his lifetime. This seems to me

crucial in understanding both the real and fictitious man; indeed it is one of the few places where the two versions actually coincide. Here was a child broiight up in an atmosphere of savage civil war, with the Crown constantly up for grabs. He could not fail to be brutalised by this kind of environment. He was not deformed, but had one shoulder slightly higher than the other. It . is well known that this condition is extremely

common. Nevertheless, I was startled to look in the mirror and find just how common it is. Two mysteries surround his short and otherwise uneventful reign. Did he usurp the Crown? Did he kill the Princes in the Tower? There are convincing arguments for and against and neither accusation has been proven. What is known is that, as kings go, he was an unindulgent and benevolent one and made notable reforms. Shakespeare stands accused of twisting Richard, literally, into a deformed and evil monster. But I believe that, in this respect, Shakespeare has been maligned as unfairly as Richard. The disfiguration happened long before Shakespeare was even born. On August 22, 1485, Richard fought the Battle of Bosworth against the Earl of Richmond and was killed. That was the least of his problems that day. His corpse was stripped naked, generally abused, slung over a horse, and trotted into Leicester. There it was displayed for a couple of days, then buried in a field. These were times when you did not stop kicking a man just because he was down. Later his bones were dug up for a bit more abuse and finally thrown into the River Soar.

In the meantime, the Earl of Richmond had been crowned Henry VII. As the first Tudor he wanted the new dynasty’s claim to the throne made absolutely legitimate, so Richard’s reputation had now to be ruined even more thoroughly than his mortal remains. The first historian to start the ball rolling was John Rous. In his “History of the Kings of England” he described Richard as being born, after two years in the womb, with a complete set of teeth and hair down to his shoulders.

This demonic theme was gleefully embraced and embellished by an extraordinary array of “eyewitnesses” whose qualifications were somewhat suspect. One of them, Bernard Andre, was actually blind. Another, Mancini, was an Italian spy who spoke hardly any English. And the most famous biographer, Sir Thomas More, was aged five at the time of Richard’s

Coronation and eight at Bosworth. Nevertheless, he writes of Richard as “malicious, wrathful, envious” and, most significantly, “little of stature, ill featured of limbs, crook backed." Shakespeare wrote “Richard III”

Shakespeare wrote “Richard HI” more than a hundred years after Bosworth. The ghoulish figure of the evil Crookback was firmly established by then. Why should he have disbelieved the history books? We like to think of Shakespeare as all-seeing and superhuman, but he was simply and remarkably a jobbing playwright and actor. He saw in the story the ingredients of a marvellous play: one that would combine the elements of comedythriller, melodrama, morality play, and tragedy.

I wasted little time in deciding whether to play history’s Richard or Shakespeare’s. Actually the choice does not exist. The character begins the play saying things like “I am determined to prove a villain ... I am subtle, false and treacherous.” So, although surprised and fascinated to discover the truth behind the myth, I quickly put it aside and embarked on a search for Shakespeare’s character.

My research was long and varied. I found the recent murder trials of Peter Sutcliffe and Denis Nilsen particularly useful. Mad or Bad? Monster or Maniac? the tabloids squealed at us. Of course these are the same questions one has to ask about Richard. I visited a psycho-therapist and we did a mock session on Richard’s problems. To find Richard’s physical shape, I visited homes for the disabled and interviewed an orthopaedic surgeon specialising in polio.

I worked for long hours with a physiotherapist to devise a crippled position that would be relatively safe to sustain for a run that could last for two years. I went on a fitness programme that involved giving up smoking, and taking up swimming, jogging, going to a gym, the Body Control Studio, a health

farm. And all the time, in thinking about the part, I was inspired by various animals: bulls, bisons, tarantulas, and the shark from “Jaws.”

Shortly after opening at Stratford I received another memorable letter. This was on official paper. “Richard HI Society, Fellowship of the White Boar, Yorkshire Branch.” I read on with trepidation. This is the official society dedicated to white-washing Richard’s name, with branches all over the world. My fears proved groundless. The writer of this letter, Paul Trevor Bale, had enjoyed our production enormously. He wrote: “Although Shakespeare did the reputation of the real Richard no good whatsoever, he created a wickedly funny morality play in the process, and were it not for this play there would probably be no Richard in Society and the rehabilitation of the king in history would not have taken place.”

"Year of The King," Anthony Sher’s account of playing Richard 111, is to be published by Chatto and Windus in 1985.