1536

Almeida Theatre

★★★★

“Max Jones’ excellent design, complemented by an arresting use of lighting is striking”

1536 is definitely innovative: it uses the backdrop of Anne Boleyn’s defamation and execution to demonstrate the impossibility of existing as a woman and the power imbalance exploited by men. Ava Pickett’s debut play, directed by Lyndsey Turner, is a triumph.

We open on an atmosphere of sticky heat in an unspectacular field somewhere in Essex. There is a hazy unreality cultivated through this trope: the kind of dizzying heat that encourages libidinous frenzy. We see it here, as three young women meet to gossip and philosophise, and occasionally, to fornicate.

1536, the year Boleyn was beheaded, uses her engineered fall from grace – though a distant event for the women of the piece – to eloquently illustrate a world engineered for men at the expense of women. With frightening speed, Boleyn is transformed from the coveted woman Henry VIII left the Catholic Church for, to a treasonous, witchy ‘whore’. It’s telling. And what it tells is that men all too quickly will vilify women to vindicate and validate themselves. It’s Simone de Beauvoir all over: men will wreak power over women in all respects, in order to rationalise their sense and need for superiority. And crucially, 1536 argues, no woman is safe; there is no protective status. Not even the Queen of England is immune. Nor is the ‘good’ and pious wife. Nor is the mistress who operates outside martial confines. It argues that women are trapped from all sides and threatened on a very real level by the imbalance of power that stems from the unchecked violence and physical power of men over women – an aspect that feels all too relevant.

The cast is wonderful, especially Liv Hill as ‘pious’ Jane, and Siena Kelly as Anna, the ferocious ‘whore’ to Jane’s ‘angel’ (an anachronistic dichotomy but only in technicality). Tanya Reynolds as the sensible but quietly suffering midwife Mariella is also very watchable, and the two supporting men (Adam Hugill and Angus Cooper) are equally strong.

All the action takes place in this singular outdoor space: a dry landscape, overwhelmed by tall reeds, and a solitary blasted tree. Max Jones’ excellent design, complemented by an arresting use of lighting (Jack Knowles) is striking. This pressure cooker could be monotonous, but instead, it draws attention to the geographical smallness of life for people, and especially women, in 16th Century England; it’s an excellent demonstration of the staticity of their lives.

There is one ostensibly minor, but jarring flaw. The modern vernacular works well, and is a fabulous vehicle for comedy. The swearing, however, is not. The number of expletives were obscene, with little drama or effect. They were merely staples of the dialogue. But they were arresting without power, cheapening the quality of the otherwise agile dialogue. It’s a trend emergent in much period theatre at the moment, and it always seems tacky.

Also, please, can we all agree to bring back the interval?

But these are small problems. 1536 navigates much, all whilst being hilarious. It’s also nuanced: whilst exploring gender politics, it examines how women can leverage their own power through sex, and yet (!!) this is the most easily weaponised facet, unifying men and women alike against the more sexually voracious woman. The world has visibly changed in 500 years, but 1536 questions just how much.

1536

Almeida Theatre

Reviewed on 14th May 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Helen Murray

Previously reviewed at this venue:

RHINOCEROS | ★★★★ | April 2025

OTHERLAND | ★★★★ | February 2025

WOMEN, BEWARE THE DEVIL | ★★★★ | February 2023

1536

★★★★

“Carvel is all stooping eccentricity with a touch of Reginald Perrin”

When George Bernard Shaw wrote “Pygmalion” in 1912, its West End premiere was delayed due to the leading lady’s nervous breakdown. Instead, the German translation opened in Vienna followed by the New York production where it was described as a ‘love story with brusque diffidence and a wealth of humour’. Richard Jones’ revival at the Old Vic retains the ‘wealth of humour’, has exchanged the diffidence for a bold confidence, but as for ‘love story’ – that’s gone completely out the window. There is a mechanical edge to it that, despite being well-oiled and finely tuned, partially obscures its beating heart.

It opens quite spectacularly, to the angular, staccato strains of Tony Gayle’s modernist jazz chords – perhaps a touch too modern for the already updated setting. Stewart Laing’s circuit board backdrops are a bit of a puzzle, unless you accept that this may be a clever twist on the phrase ‘Code-Switching’: the term applied to changing your voice and dialect to fit into a new social environment. Jones’ production fully takes on board the concept of Professor Henry Higgins’ social experiment, and exudes the same detachment as though we are watching a presentation through glass.

It does enable us to focus on the central, magnified performances. Led by Bertie Carvel’s Henry Higgins and Patsy Ferran’s Eliza Doolittle, they cannot be accused of shying away. Carvel is all stooping eccentricity with a touch of Reginald Perrin though less unwitting. Preoccupied and arrogant, Carvel eradicates everything that might be likeable about his character. A character that stretches the patience of those initially loyal to him. Penny Layden gives one of the more heartfelt performances as his housekeeper, Mrs Pearce, and Sylvestra Le Touzel captures the exasperation of Higgin’s mother. But we are frustrated by Carvel’s Higgins remaining so impervious to everyone and everything around him.

“The urge to update and radicalise is always going to compete with the option of playing it safe.”

Carvel’s performance would steal the show if it weren’t for Ferran’s spirited no-nonsense Eliza Doolittle. Aware from the start that she is a vehicle for the professor’s sport, she is pragmatic and steely enough to rise above it. Ferran never loses her grip on humility, however, which ultimately gives her the upper hand. Hers is the one true draught of passion that disturbs the otherwise emotionally static production.

The best illustrations of George Bernard’s Shaw satire come from the supporting roles. Times have changed since Shaw wrote his ground-breaking play. Class and social mobility are much more blurred and the way one speaks is no longer a definition of one’s status. But other observations stand out and ring true. John Marquez, as Eliza’s bin-man father who “can’t afford morals”, is a delight to watch and is a master at comic delivery.

It is a very familiar story, but ‘ay, there’s the rub’. The urge to update and radicalise is always going to compete with the option of playing it safe. This production falls somewhere between the two. Whether it’s a direct consequence or not, we are tempted to question the sincerity and authenticity. Yet it is still a hugely entertaining piece of theatre, dominated by commanding performances. Despite being a little confused as to what time period it is being set in, we are indeed reminded of the timeless nature of the play and that its appeal will never go away.

Tag Archives: Will Stuart

1536

★★★★

Almeida Theatre

1536

Almeida Theatre

★★★★

“Max Jones’ excellent design, complemented by an arresting use of lighting is striking”