Alas, that was not Shakespeare, despite his famous way with words. At least we now have insouciant directors like Barbara Gaines, able to dilute the Shakespearean gushing and genuflecting over the arrival of a 1553 baby known as Elizabeth, thank heavens to Betsy, with a little requisite satiric remove. At Chicago Shakespeare Theater, it is the saving of “Henry VIII.”
Within that construct, Gaines basically tells her own accessible, highly entertaining story, clad in some truly gorgeous costumes from Mariann S. Verheyen and focused more on the wives and less on the maturation of a leader we already know went quickly to seed. She even prefigures sly little Anne's eventual comeuppance by making Henry a man with a wandering eye from the get-go and ending her drama with Anne's howl of anguish at this skirt-chasing jerk, an other woman staring another woman in the face. This approach was not surprising to me, given Gaines' disdain for Prince Hal in past productions of “H4” (heck, she made Hotspur her hero), but I was surprised how well it works theatrically with “H8.” You might well have trepidation with this title, but this is actually a fast-moving, hugely entertaining, very fluid production (the cutting of the text is excellent) that has a rather appealing, pulpy quality. Perchance Gaines had a kind of Andrew-Harry composite in mind for Henry, although she keeps the work rooted in its period, and James Noone's fabric-dominated design seems intended to evoke the late romances rather than the history plays. That's the right take on this hybrid play, as written by a talented guy watching out, figuratively speaking, for his Illinois pension.
With the redoubtable Mike Nussbaum installed as Gaines' wry storyteller, everything clips along not only quickly but in directorial directions one does not anticipate. There are nods to the long production history of this play as a spectacle — Anne's coronation, thanks to some jaw-dropping scenic shifts, places her literally and uneasily on a pedestal. There is much sexiness, thanks in no small part to Verheyen's hot costumes, lush original music from Lindsay Jones, and even a weird, hellish, dumpsterlike thingy into which Wolsey (and Buckingham) are dispatched, along with Catholicism. But at the end, baby Princess Liz is represented by a doll-like puppet with a moving arm and, I swear, a little patch of red hair peeping out. This was either the dumbest prop ever, or, I prefer to think, a savvy little joke designed to rescue Shakespeare from expediency and point out that the women whose lives his Henry really controlled did not enjoy such florid verbosity and fake admiration. Well, not for long.
When: Through June 16
Where: Chicago Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier
Run time: 2 hours, 25 minutes
Tickets: $48-$78 at 312-595-5600 and chicagoshakes.com