'Seasons' is as relevant as today's headlines HIGHLY RECOMMENDED
Reviewed by Hedy Weiss
November 9, 2005
The time is mid-16th century. The
place is London. But it could just as easily be here.
And now.
From the moment the men of the court
and the church gather on the stage of TimeLine Theatre
-- where they beat out an ominous rhythm with their
wooden poles in the opening moments of director Edward
Sobel's taut, muscular and very modern rendering of
Robert Bolt's popular play "A Man for All Seasons"
-- it is clear that the halls of power resound with
a universal ring. Tudor England sounds a great deal
like contemporary Washington or "The West Wing."
Opportunism and political expedience will invariably
trump integrity. And those who insist on taking the
moral high ground will ultimately pay dearly for such
an indulgence.
Bolt's 1960 drama (perhaps best known
by way of its 1966 film incarnation, which starred Paul
Scofield, Robert Shaw, Leo McKern and Wendy Hiller)
is set at a time when England was in the early stages
of democratic development and the Roman Catholic Church
was powerful but corrupt, and facing a severe challenge
from Protestantism. Complicating matters is the ever-present
worry of who will inherit the throne.
Argument and counterargument, opportunistic
changes of heart and strategic power plays are all crucial
to "A Man for All Seasons." So is the notion
that "the loyal opposition" may be the most
dangerous sort of ally, and one that cannot be allowed
to exist.
The crux of the problem is this: King
Henry VIII (Brad Woodard, ideal as a young, vibrant,
macho and very intelligent monarch in the Bill Clinton
mold) is married to Catherine of Aragon, who cannot
produce the all-important male heir. So Henry seeks
special dispensation from the pope in order to divorce
her and marry Anne Boleyn. He also needs and wants the
support of his trusted adviser, Sir Thomas More (the
ever-charismatic and bristlingly smart David Parkes),
a brilliant scholar and jurist, a devout Catholic and
a widely respected man of principal.
More, who is clearly fond of the king,
is unable to support him on the issue and instead resigns
from his post as lord chancellor and vows to remain
silent about his views. That, however, is not good enough.
He must be destroyed.
Hounded by the king's influential
adviser Thomas Cromwell (John Carter Brown, a kind of
youthful Karl Rove, all cool careerism and legalistic
vindictiveness), More remains unmovable and ultimately
is executed for treachery and his refusal to swear an
oath to Henry as supreme head of the Church of England.
Sobel's modern-dress production (with
a spare, sharply geometric set by Brian Sidney Bembridge)
dances easily on the border between the historical and
the contemporary as his actors masterfully play all
the power games of boardroom, back room and bedroom.
Crucial to the story are More's deftly acerbic but loving
wife, Alice (a shrewd performance by Janet Ulrich Brooks);
his impressively educated, fervently devoted daughter
Margaret (a sharp turn by Joey Honsa); his politically
malleable son-in-law William Roper (a neatly changeable
Hunter Stiebel), and the amoral opportunist Richard
Rich (fine work by Madison Dirks).
Mark Richard nearly steals the show
as the many-faced "Common Man," with Don Blair,
Kurt Ehrmann, Sean Parker, John Zinn and Laura Ames
adding spice to this incisively etched production.
