“It is going to be the hottest ticket in town.“
“you are not there for a history lesson. You are there for a herstory lesson and you are guaranteed a great night out.”
– Kate Stratford
5 /5 royal crowns
It is going to be the hottest ticket in town.
SIX, in the Industry, is one of those dream scenarios. A couple of young writers develop an idea, take it to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival where it is such a hit that it moves to the West End. From there, it takes the world by storm with its inventiveness, choreography and musical signature. And six leading ladies.
What is the idea? Wanting to be more than a word in a “silly rhyme”, six ex-wife queens decide on a reality competition to determine who had the worse marital experience with Henry VIII. But in the brilliant hands of Toby Marlow and Lucy Ross, it becomes a paean to feminism; to women (led by the last queen) finally banding together to overcome the humiliation and abuse at the hands of one particularly white privileged toxic male who became (in)famous for his treatment of women.
Each queen is based on a contemporary music diva or two, chosen for how well they parallel the historical personalities, even down to influencing the costume design which is a sort of fabulous mash-up of Tudor and punk rock (Nigel Shaw).
Unwilling to back down and agree to a divorce, Catharine of Aragon (delivered by a vibrant Phonenix Jackson Mendoza) is the first. As bad-assed as Beyoncé. Defiant to a bitter end. Next came Anne Boleyn (a brassy, sassy Kala Gare), inarguably the most famous of the wives for no woman had ever dared to reach up and twitch the crown off a living queen’s head. Like Avril Lavigne, things got very complicated.
Then came Jane Seymour (an Adele-like Loren Hunter); that mother-figure whose singing makes you just cry rivers. Dying ten days after giving birth to the king’s only legitimate heir (post-natal care non-existent then), Seymour was revered. Possibly the safest way out of the king’s grip.
For those of you who don’t know the story (where have you been?) next came Anna of Cleves. In a middle-ages version of Tinder, the king swiped right on a portrait of Anna of Cleves then reneged when he met her in person. Despite that humiliation, Anna got to spend the rest of her life hanging out in palaces and manors that Henry VIII gifted her in the divorce. Rihanna-style, the earthy Kiana Daniele celebrates.
It could be claimed that the most tale of abuse is that of poor illiterate, ignorant Katharine Howard. From an early age (about 12, if memory serves), she was mauled by the men of the court, passed around as a sex toy to be fondled and enjoyed with no say in her own destiny. Such a Tudor Britney Spears if ever there was one. Chelsea Dawson performs perhaps the most emotionally challenging song in the book; All You Wanna Do begins as a flirty girl celebrating her attractiveness but devolves into desperately sad despair at being constantly man-handled. Howard’s story is probably the least well-known, glossed over by historians misogynistically victim shaming and blaming and implying the child deserved to have her head cut off.
And finally, Catherine Parr. In love with someone else (third wife’s brother, Thomas Seymour) when the king demanded she marry him, Parr’s song in SIX is a part-sad, part-hopeful R&B ballad that an Alicia Keys would deliver. Vidya Makan soulfully declares she does not need his love to survive.
Each of the six wives have their own style and charm and the Australian cast meet the challenge head-on. There were a few initial harmony misses in the first minutes of opening night but the performers quickly settled and grounded the show musically.
They are backed by a hard-core group of minstrels … the Ladies in Waiting, each of who is mistress of the instrument she plays; switching from blues to ballads to pop and rock and even a little rap in what seems an effortless display of virtuosity.
The music and clever lyrics of SIX beautifully define character but Marlow and Ross’ dialogue is perhaps the one weakness of the composition. These transitional passages liken the queens to squabbling schoolgirls and sit a little immaturely in what is otherwise an accomplished piece of theatrical writing. Not perhaps that it matters after all, you are not there for a history lesson. You are there for a herstory lesson and you are guaranteed a great night out.
Kate Stratford, Theatre Now
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