Review: Monarchs Anonymous, The Other Palace ★★½

Crown and Couch: Monarchs Anonymous at The Other Palace

Britain has a long and glorious tradition of sending up its rulers. From Blackadder’s scheming courtiers to Horrible Histories’ gleefully accurate Stupid Deaths (“They’re funny ’cause they’re true!“), we have always loved our history served with a side of ridicule. Monarchs Anonymous, from Welsh company Ceridwen Theatre Company, arrives with a premise that ought to be irresistible: history’s most infamous monarchs thrown into a group therapy session, forced to confront their worst impulses under the watchful eye of therapist Dr Thompson. I left with affection for what the show is trying to do, but also wishing it had managed to do it more consistently.

The opening promises something special. Descending into the cool studio space at The Other Palace (the air conditioning alone felt like a gift on a very hot June evening), we were greeted by thrones with crowns on every seat and a set of genuinely funny monarch-themed therapy posters. The atmosphere was warm and the setup inviting.

Dr Kat Marchant, a viral historian with 180,000 social media followers in her day job, opens as Dr Thompson in firmly-but-encouragingly-bossy therapist tones, and the introductions of each monarch are great fun. What strikes you immediately is how distinct each royal is. Helena Devereux‘s drunken arrival as Marie Antoinette is hilarious, landing the character in an instant. William Harry Mitchell oozes everything we expect Henry VIII to be and proves an expert at deploying his codpiece for comic effect. Joshua Poole charms as the Merry Monarch, Charles II. And then the show finds its most interesting self in its two less familiar historical figures.

George Eggay as Mansa Musa is the comic highlight throughout, carrying every scene with his ruler’s humble brags about Mali’s achievements and his genuine hurt at not being better known. It is a fair point: reduced in mainstream narratives to simply “the richest man in history,” Musa’s 14th-century Mali Empire was in reality a global powerhouse of trade, architectural innovation and scholarship, and the show is at its most interesting when it lets that land. Harriet Sharmini Smithers as Princess Sophia Duleep Singh brings clipped authority and Suffragette bravado, carrying a genuinely affecting backstory: her grandfather Maharaja Ranjit Singh, her father Maharaja Duleep Singh exiled to England, the surrender of the Koh-i-Noor. Her scenes hold real interest.

Henry VIII, Marie Antoinette and Charles II fare less well as the evening progresses, through little fault of the performers. There is simply less unfamiliar ground to tread. There are pleasures: Charles II reminding us that he restored Christmas after the Puritan ban, and that in 1660 he officially granted women the right to perform on the public stage, are details worth knowing. But the comic premise works best when it finds the unexpected.

The deeper issue is one of tonal unevenness, and I say this as someone who wanted the show to pull it off. The idea that these are real people, with real grief and real damage, is potentially the most powerful thing Monarchs Anonymous has to offer, but it is applied patchily. Mock jousting games give way to a passage in which Sophia Duleep Singh describes the loss of her father’s lands, and the shift in register is a little jarring in both directions.

There are gestures towards real therapeutic method (“Smell the Flower, Blow Out the Candle” makes an appearance), but the group session never quite establishes its collective goal. Dr Thompson’s betrayal of the group and subsequent pleading runs longer than it perhaps needed to and the humour, which had worked in flashes, needed to be sharper to sustain the evening.

There were definite pleasures along the way. The music as we returned from the interval, harpsichord segueing neatly into “Sister Suffragette” from Mary Poppins, was a lovely touch. The audience were willing participants when called upon, and laughs were present throughout, just not quite roaring ones.

Monarchs Anonymous has the bones of something genuinely entertaining, and its instinct to place Mansa Musa and Sophia Duleep Singh at the centre alongside the usual Tudor and Baroque suspects is an idea very much worth keeping. The company clearly have energy and warmth for their material. With tighter pacing and a clearer sense of what the therapy conceit is ultimately working towards, this could be a sharp and satisfying show.

[Thank you to Chloe Nelkin for gifted tickets for an honest review]

You can read our interview with Joshua Poole here.

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