Timeless ideals
Timeline's revival shows that principles
never out of season
Reviewed by Barbara Vitello
November 10, 2005
Timing is everything and TimeLine
Theatre's is perfect.
The Chicago ensemble chose wisely
and well in resurrecting Robert Bolt's "A Man for
All Seasons," an eloquent, expertly realized revival
of this still relevant 1960 play about remaining true
to one's conscience in the face of society's unrelenting
pressure to conform.
Bolt's history-inspired drama concerning
devout scholar and statesman Sir Thomas More's defiance
of and subsequent execution by King Henry VIII, reminds
us how our choices define us because they reflect the
moral code that makes up our essential self. At a time
when expediency transcends morality, politics subvert
truth, self-interest precludes ideals and the line between
church and state increasingly blurs, it resonates profoundly.
"What matters to me is not whether
it's true or not, but that ... I believe it," says
More, whose conscience won't allow him to betray his
faith in God or his principles, which prevents him from
bowing to Henry's will.
Others evade, adjust and advance;
More stays his course, rowing against the tide, never
changing tack despite turbulent waters ahead because
doing otherwise nullifies his very self.
This welcome reminder of what constitutes
moral sense comes courtesy of TimeLine's lean, intelligent
production that hums along under Edward Sobel's masterful
direction. An examination of morality, corruption, individualism,
friendship and ambition could border on pedantic, but
Bolt uses satire and irony to lighten the tone. "A
Man for All Seasons" instructs, provokes and entertains.
The razor-sharp acting includes superb
performances from David Parkes, John Carter Brown, Kurt
Ehrmann and Mark Richard. Add Brian Sidney Bembridge's
Spartan but artfully designed set, which has the audience
flanking the stage dominated by a long trough filled
with water (a recurring symbol) and Rachel Anne Healy's
modern-day costumes that hint at 16th-century finery
make for a brilliant theater experience.
The action arises from King Henry
VIII's efforts to shed his aging wife Catherine (widow
of his older brother Arthur, who died shortly after
their wedding) and wed young Anne Boleyn. Henry hopes
Anne will give him a male heir to continue the Tudor
line, thus preventing a revival of the 30-year civil
war that concluded upon the Tudors' ascension to the
throne. But first, Henry (an invigorating, gregarious
Brad Woodard who slips seamlessly from genial friend
to bully and back again) needs the pope to annul his
marriage. The pope, under pressure from Catherine's
nephew King Charles V of Spain, refuses and England's
Lord Chancellor, Cardinal Thomas Wolsey (Don Blair),
the man Henry assigned to handle the matter, pays for
it when he's charged with treason. (He dies before his
execution).
Replacing Wolsey with longtime friend
and advisor Sir Thomas More (a powerful, wonderfully
self-possessed performance by Parkes), a lawyer, scholar,
and man of uncommon intellect and faith, Henry breaks
with Rome. He establishes the Church of England with
him as its supreme head. Many of the clergy and nobility,
including More's good friend, the affably boisterous
rustic the Duke of Norfolk (another in a series of fine
supporting performances by Ehrmann), pledge their allegiance.
Unable to serve God and king in good
conscience, More resigns. He retreats to his country
manor where his wife, Alice (Janet Ulrich Brooks, who
conveys quiet dignity as an uneducated but perceptive
woman who finally accepts what she cannot prevent),
daughter Margaret (Joey Honsa) and son-in-law William
Roper (Hunter Stiebel) await.
Archibishop of Canterbury, Thomas
Cranmer (John Zinn) grants the divorce and Henry marries
Anne, but the controversy rages on. Hoping to avoid
the fray by parsing words and measuring his response,
the circumspect More stays silent but finds himself
the center of attention when both the king and the pope,
in the guise of Spanish emissary Signor Chapuys (Sean
Parker), solicit public support he cannot give.
More's downfall at the hands of Thomas
Cromwell (the impressive Brown who masks malevolence
behind a veneer of civility in a performance chilling
for its detached menace) results from him underestimating
his fellow man's amorality and relying on laws that
can be subverted as easily as a man's conscience.
More also misjudges the ambition and
greed that motivates less noble acquaintances like Richard
Rich (a convincing, calculating Madison Dirks), a low-level
public servant with a Machiavellian streak, and More's
mercenary servant Matthew, deftly played by Richard,
playing multiple roles as the Common Man, who elicits
both sympathy and animosity).
Cromwell tries More as a traitor for
his refusal to acknowledge Henry as head of the church.
Insisting he has been condemned not for his actions
but for "the thoughts of my heart" (a dangerous
precedent that still threatens), More greets his death
"the king's good servant, but God's first."
Parkes' quiet, commanding performance
- alternately brilliant and bemused, amiable and arrogant,
confident and distraught - captures the imperfect protagonist
and reluctant martyr who ends his life bent but unbroken.
The bittersweet scene where he urges Norfolk to abandon
him; the tension-filled confrontations with Brown's
equally compelling Cromwell; the impassioned parting
with his family; and the concise yet heartfelt defense
of the separation between church and state that concludes
the play make for some of this season's finest stage
moments.
"A Man for All Seasons"
poses the question: Can a moral man exist in an amoral
world? Judging by More's fate, the answer is no. But
in Saint Thomas More (he was canonized in 1935), we
find an icon of conscience, a man for all times who
reflects the ideals to which we should all aspire.
