I begin with a confession: this play is my introduction to the work of Alan Bennett. Yeesh, it feels scary to admit that as someone with a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in English Literature but there we are. I love the fact that I’m still discovering and learning about all these works even now so long after graduating and I was particularly excited to have the opportunity to see this 2018 production from Nottingham Playhouse as I remember hearing loads of positive buzz about it at the time.

I’m always grateful for the National Theatre Live screenings as they have pushed me to see things I wouldn’t normally choose to see, didn’t manage to get to logistically, and re-visit those incredible memories from seeing the shows in question live, but as the pandemic has gone on, I’ve found my relationship with the wealth of theatre content online has been up and down: initially I found it incredibly difficult to watch anything as it just reminded me of how much I miss my friends and the wider theatre community, then I went through a phase of feeling happier as we all adjusted to the new normal and I felt my connection to the industry re-establish itself, but lately I’ve been finding myself falling back into that old pattern…

Thank god then, I found this play as it’s been such a poignant and immensely powerful introduction to Bennett’s work!

The year is 1788. King George III is the most powerful man on earth, even as his mind slowly unravels. The Queen and Parliament wish to keep his illness secret lest the nation descends into anarchy, and all the while the royal physicians squabble over the right course of treatment. The greatest threat however, is closer to the crown as the eldest son and ambitious ministers begin a power struggle…

What we have then, is a play about the very fine line between the public and private persona; the King as a symbol versus a man. I’ve always loved plays like this, that make those seemingly very clear cut distinctions and play around with them and especially things that feel both epic and intimate. Bennett’s play has this quality in spades: it’s witty yet touching and shows a private drama amid all this public pomp and circumstance. For me as someone who isn’t always as familiar with certain historical periods and figures as I’d like to be, dramas like this are a great starting point and I was fascinated by Bennett’s ability to marry together comedy and tragedy; a blend director Adam Penford has understood and handles very well for my taste. There are moments where it winks at too much absurdity, but in the grand scheme of the piece these offer much needed relief.

Because it is, at times an incredibly uncomfortable watch: George is subjected to horrific medical treatments of the time t(I gritted my teeth as his legs are blistered and loudly swore in horror when they wheeled out the restraining chair) and I marvelled at all ways the writing got me thinking about how mental illness is represented on stage, and both the strides that have been made in understanding it more generally and how far we still need to go.

“I was always myself, even when I was ill. Only now I seem myself. And that’s the important thing.”

I was struck by the fact that it was one of the most distressing images that stayed with me, King George is forcibly sat in his restraining chair and cries out:

“I am the King of England!” and Dr Willis replies: “No sir, you are the patient!”

The reaction of those around him to his illness was also a focal point for me, I had such a rollercoaster of emotions throughout the whole piece and it got me thinking about so much.

One of the things I loved best about the production was its design by Robert Jones – there’s a cleverly revolving set that takes us from the King’s chamber, to parliament and beyond. It feels really intimate in the sense props are sparse, too and so it allows the lighting (Richard Howell) to evoke and heighten the mood. The costumes and the curtain we see at the start of Act II are gloriously luscious too.

There’s an incredibly charismatic cast all round – Wilf Scolding is charmingly petulant as The Prince of Wales, there’s a warmth and instantly endearing sweetness to Debra Gillett’s Queen Charlotte and Jessica Temple shone as loyal page Papandiek. Some of the company double up in their roles, a feat that’s always interested me just in terms of sheer awe at the line learning and stamina needed!

As someone who originally came to Adrian Scarborough thanks to his comedic turn in Gavin and Stacey and his other more serious dramatic roles later on, it was an absolute delight seeing him take on Doctor Willis, the gruff ex pastor who treats the King: his dry wit and steely resolve making him a great match for the troubled monarch.

Anchoring it all though, is an immense performance from Mark Gatiss. I had the joy of seeing Mark onstage seven years ago in Coriolanus, where I was already aware of how brilliant he was. This production convinced me utterly that I need to do so again someday: the presence he has and the physicality he brings to the role is mesmerising, I was particularly blown away by the scenes in which he speaks a mile a minute, and his emotional scenes with Debra’s queen, and to see those layers of depth and intensity as well as his razor sharp sarcasm and gift for timing was an absolute joy from start to end.

It’s always been a sadness of mine that my circumstances mean regional theatre can be a bit of a pain to organise. Thankyou all for reminding me why it’s always worth the time!

The play can be seen on Youtube until April 18th