What’s a little civil war among family? That’s one question as Cal Poly’s Theatre and Dance Department presents James Goldman’s 1966 play, The Lion in Winter.
Another question, while we’re on the subject of strife, is whether the turmoil of a medieval king and queen and their progeny has anything to say to modern audiences about politics, or is it more about the role that familial bonds play in success (or failure)?
An argument could be made that this production, directed by Cal Poly faculty member Ramón Esquivel, makes it clear that families are families; everyone knows how to get under everyone else’s skin in one way or another, and that seems to be the guiding factor.
Although the setting is a castle in France circa 1183 C.E., Goldman’s dialog is modern enough and the family dynamics are such that you’ll easily recognize the squabbles and jabs that recur among siblings and spouses and lovers ad nauseum.
John DeVries is Henry II, King of England, who plays host to a Christmas gathering that includes his mistress, his wife, his three sons, and King Philip of France who is visiting for the holiday. DeVries manages to bring a bit of playful eccentricity to Henry’s noxious machinations surrounding which of his sons will inherit his throne, but Esquivel keeps a pretty tight rein on him and the other players, including Julianna Valencia as Eleanor, Carly Medina as Henry’s mistress, and Alexander Hayward as Philip. Henry’s sons—Perris Campbell (ramrod straight), Steffan Evans (anxious and tense), and Aiden Jantz (loose and lanky)—are differentiated mostly by physical bearing.
The actors are surrounded by the work of an excellent production team: Thomas John Bernard’s costumes are rich (Eleanor in royal purple velvet is lovely) and period appropriate; Richard Brian Jackson’s inventive set design artfully suggests a castle more than re-creating one stone by stone; and the lighting by Brian Healy is masterful, especially when the tempestuous nature of the activity on stage is reflected in the clouds behind the castle.
What brings the production together, however, is the original music, composed and performed by Isaac Lewis. It’s a fitting choice, with its steady beats underscoring the tragedy and the pathos of a family that just can’t seem to get along.
In the end, the focus on this family’s “ups and downs” (as Eleanor puts it), outweighs any commentary you might take away about modern politics and gamesmanship. Henry’s manipulations, while meant to have a lasting effect on his legacy, here seem mostly designed to aggravate his kin.
Well, there’s one in every family . . .