Mother's Daughter: royals behaving bloody badly
20 Jan 2020

by Drew Rowsome -
Production photos by Dahlia Katz

While following the antics of Megxit and randy Prince Andy with bemused curiosity, I have to confess to an only vague knowledge of the history of Britain's royal family. While familiar with Henry VIII, his wives and Elizabeth I, I knew nothing about Mary I. However having greatly enjoyed and admired playwright Kate Hennig's The Virgin Trial for its clever reinvention of historical drama as thriller theatre, I was eager to experience Mother's Daughter, the third in Hennig's Queenmaker Trilogy. While an intriguing production, it was not until after when I perused Wikipedia's history-lite version of Mary I's life, that I was able to appreciate all the nuances and thematic elements.

Just knowing that Mary I is colloquially known as 'Bloody Mary,' and knowing why, makes all the difference. Filling in all the historical gaps made Mother's Daughter a powerful statement. Anglophiles, and those responsible theatre-goers who do their research, will find Mother's Daughter delicious and/or scandalous, I was disappointed that I didn't get the full force of  Hennig's revisionist and unabashedly feminist take on an historical figure. Though I did get the inspiration to search out more, I wouldn't have googled if I hadn't of been absorbed with what was unfolding onstage.

Telling the story from the perspective of a woman who was either ignored or vilified by history, allows Hennig to explore mother/daughter dynamics and the reasons that women have been denied active roles throughout history. Mary I was the first female ruler of England and she paid a terrible price to get there. And Hennig also hammers home just how frivolous and horrifying the concept of a monarchy is. The characters scheme, plot and kill, simply to hang onto the crown they are convinced is their right. Divine right. It is a concept that should be archaic but the parallels are gutpunching.

There are lines that speak directly to current political machinations and deceptions, some which drew gasps from the audience. Tellingly no-one ever speaks of, or even pretends to want to do good, to rule benevolently, or make life better for the masses or even the rest of the aristocracy. They just want that damn crown, the title and to have their religious affiliation be dominant. Mother's Daughter is a scathing and bitter denouncement of politics and religion. The very idea that Protestants and Catholics would go to war over their differences seems ludicrous from 2019, until one thinks of Muslims and so-called Christians.

Shannon Taylor anchors the production as Mary, eliding from imperious and determined, to fragile and questioning without ever playing for our empathy. but solidly earning it. The simple symbolism of her clothing, from gown to queen drag to military uniform to mix and match, shows her struggle to become who she wants to be, if she only knew what that was. There is a stunning moment when, mid-costume change, she gives a fleeting glimpse of the woman beneath the appearance and we ache to get to know her.

Fiona Byrne as Catalina (aka Catharine of Aragon) may be, with deliberate shadings of Hamlet, a ghost, or may be a figment of Mary's imagination, but she is an apparition with villainous spunk and a hunger for revenge. She is matched by Jessica B Hill's earthy Anne Boleyn and a near catfight from beyond the grave sparks the first act. Hill also plays Mary's ally/adversary Bess, who demonstrates just how genetics and emotional manipulation work as opposed to the farcical rigidity of royal bloodlines as a justification for the ability to rule. Bess also cuts right to the heart of the matter at hand, and Hill takes full advantage of Hennig's anachronistic use of language to good comic effect.

But the bulk of the comic relief falls on the able shoulders of the wondrous Maria Vacratsis (Prince Hamlet, Late Night, Cake and Dirt). A whirlwind of ever shifting subterfuge she is the cocky kiss ass we all love to hate but can't help but adore. Andrea Rankin is suitably vulnerable but with a spine and soul of steel as Jane. If I had been been cognizant of the context, her climactic scene, and the startling set thematics that followed, would have been explosive instead of just impressive.  Beryl Bain and Gordon Patrick White keep the plot and verbiage moving as the ensemble moves around the impressive set designed, as well as the aforementioned costumes, by Lorenzo Savoini. Director Alan Dilworth (The Goat or, Who is Sylvia?) was also in charge of The Virgin Trial and brings the same urgency and flair for wedding the words and action to grand concerns. I just wish I had boned up on my queens beforehand.