The King Dieth

Like “He goeth” in the previous exercise this is a very curious stage direction. It too could be read as a narrative rather than a theatrical device. If you read on into the next scene, you will see that it becomes quickly apparent that the king is dead because the characters all tell us so. Strictly speaking therefore it is not necessary to stage the king’s death. Perhaps this line was added to the printed text to make matters clear to the reader. This argument is strengthened by the fact that this stage direction is preceded by “Exeunt Omnes.” This direction usually indicates that the stage should be cleared in preparation for a new scene and the presumption would be that the king would exit too.

For our production we decided to treat the stage direction as an indicator that the king’s death was staged. Even though the stage directions in their plays are sparse in comparison to modern plays, the Queen’s Men were famous for their stage spectacle [link to quote from McMillin^? and Maclean?] and the king’s death presented an opportunity to create such spectacle. Furthermore, later in the play there another such curious stage direction when the text simply reads: “The Battle.” We can be pretty sure that the company exploited their relatively large numbers to develop an extensive and exciting battle scene. The evidence of their other plays suggests that this was somewhat of a specialty of the company. We felt justified therefore in treating the stage direction “The King dieth” in similar manner.

This decision, however, had important consequences for our staging decisions. If the king was do die on stage, then we would also have to find a way to get him off stage, and in a manner suited to the dignity and the majesty of his person. If we had pursued the bed option, this would have been relatively easy, since once he was dead the curtains around the bed could have been drawn and the king exited into the tiring house. The bed would have been problematic for us however, because our stage was so small. It also fails to account for the king’s reference to a moveable chair.

We decided therefore that the king should die in a moveable chair and our first option was for a litter chair [link to picture if we can find one, or picture just comes up when we get to this part of the text]. It was thought however that it would take four actors to lift such a chair and the poles would thus have to extend six feet in front and behind. Since our tiring house was only four feet deep, this would make exiting the stage impossible. We therefore turned to the idea of a chair on wheels. [As we get to this text, let the image of Phillip II’s wheelchair come up]

After a little intrepid research we discovered that the first recorded example of a wheelchair dated from our period. It belonged to Phillip II of Spain who was married to the last English queen Mary I. It is a tenuous connection but one which encouraged us to explore the option further. There are also references to characters entering on sick chairs in other Elizabethan plays, and since litter chairs would be awkward in the confined space of a tiring house, it struck me that a chair on wheels might have been a feasible option. The evidence of Phillip II’s chair at least confirmed that it was not beyond the engineering expertise of the period.

From a staging point of view, it gave me a chair that could be moved “a little back” and in which a king could die and exit the stage with a relatively high degree of grace. Click here to see this section in action. [Link to Stage 1, Part 2: 46:02-55:04, when clip finishes go to following comments]

The sick chair satisfied the majority of the stage directions in the text, but it remains a relatively speculative solution. The existence of one wheelchair in the period does not mean that they were common. And as you will have noted maneuvering the chair on stage proved a little problematic forcing our noble lords into relatively humble postures. We would have been helped here if we had extra hands to help move the chair instead of making the Lords bend down and push the king around. The king however was able to maintain his dignity. [Picture change to prince leaning at the entrance]

In this configuration of the stage, we solved the tricky section where Henry enters but does not see his father immediately by having the prince lean against the doorframe as if pausing at the threshold of his father’s chambers before deciding to enter. [Click to replay this little section, or click to go to next comment]

In the university setting this was not possible as the prince was not visible in the entrance way. In this staging you can see an example of simultaneous staging. Click here to watch video [Link to SQM AL Club no audience 38:43-39:18]

When the prince steps forward towards the king it is understood that the prince has entered his father’s chamber. Or alternatively, the Elizabethan audience simply did not imagine space in such a literal manner but rather saw all action as action on a stage that tells a story in which location is sometimes important and at others immaterial. [Bring up image of Oxford closing the curtains] The king’s instruction to the lords to draw curtains was satisfied by having Oxford draw the tiring house curtains behind him as he exited. [Bring up image of the coronation, and start song playing] You will also have noted that we developed the sequence of the king dying into a brief coronation scene in which we see the prince take on his crown. This was entirely our invention – a creative response to the stage direction “The king dieth,” but entirely unnecessary to the play since this moment is described by Oldcastle in the upcoming scene. The king’s request for music was also satisfied by the introduction of a song. The song in fact dictated the length of the action we created as it seemed fitting to co-ordinate the music with the action of the stage to create a sense of the significance of this moment in the development of the prince’s story.

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-- StaceyWheal - 21 Jun 2007