James V: Katherine: Catholicism meets lesbianism in this uneven history play
- Oops!Something went wrong.Please try again later.
- Oops!Something went wrong.Please try again later.
- Oops!Something went wrong.Please try again later.
- Oops!Something went wrong.Please try again later.
Rona Munro’s sequence of plays about the reigns of the Scottish kings James is getting tantalisingly close to the one that is arguably the pivotal monarch in the history of the British state, King James VI of Scotland and I of England. The playwright may or may not be in a hurry to get to the man who ascended to the English throne, but James V: Katherine is the shortest in the series so far.
Weighing in at just 75 minutes, this four-hander tackles James V’s turbulent reign (which coincided with the rule of Henry VIII in England) by means of parallel stories of religious repression and secret romance. While Henry Tudor was busy uncoupling England from Rome and repressing both Catholics and Protestant followers of Martin Luther, Scotland stood at a religious crossroads. James V’s Catholic state was being openly accused of theological and financial corruption – indeed, the religious reformer Patrick Hamilton became Scotland’s first Protestant martyr when (in his early 20s) he was burned at the stake in 1528.
Munro’s play begins on the eve of Hamilton’s arrest. The reformer (played by Benjamin Osugo with an appropriate mix of fear and growing religious zeal) prepares for his impending martyrdom. Meanwhile, his sister, Katherine, is caught between her own Protestant convictions and her love affair with Jenny, a young noblewoman who has recently married Hamilton. Katherine’s commitment to the Protestant faith is a matter of historical record, the lesbian affair an innovation on Munro’s part.
In fairness, the historical invisibility of women’s sexuality makes the relationship feasible (for centuries, while male homosexuality was criminalised and persecuted, lesbianism wasn’t even acknowledged in law). However, Katherine’s imagined lesbianism sits uncomfortably beside her fervent Protestantism. Even if one is willing to believe that love conquers all (even an ardent, early-Lutheran animosity towards homosexuality), there are certain imbalances, in both Munro’s play and director Orla O’Loughlin’s production, that prevent the piece from reaching its potential.
The production is played on a cool, minimalist set which (like designer Becky Minto’s carefully considered costumes) nods both to 16th-century Scotland and the current day. However, the shifting linguistic registers (which swing between crisp poetics and jarring informalities) run contrary to the demands of the drama. This is especially true in the representation of James V himself, which (despite a strong performance by Sean Connor) fails to convince as a modern caricature of a working-class, Scottish hardman.
On opening night, the cast dealt brilliantly with an interlude forced upon them by a sudden illness in the audience. Alyth Ross impressed particularly as the passionate Jenny, with Ross simply captivating as the young woman who (despite her illiteracy) insists on raising life and love above bleak and repressive religious doctrine.
Sadly, Catriona Faint doesn’t quite achieve the emotional and sensual charisma required to make the character of Katherine worthy of such devotion. In the performances, as in the play itself, the piece struggles against its own inconsistencies.
In Edinburgh until April 20, then touring until June 1; rawmaterialarts.com
