I don't want to write a structured review, so here are some notes for my own reference:
1. Re the play. "Richard II" is very underrated - therefore also under-performed. In his heightened self-awareness, Richard is right up there with Hamlet. For catastrophe + the sense of being wronged without recourse must provide unusual lucidity of mind.
2. Re performance. This version should be called "Ben Whishaw's Richard II". Whishaw certainly deserves the identifying credit more than, say, "Baz Lurmann's Romeo+Juliet". He brings out all the nuances of the lines, and lend Richard's incredible mood swings credibility, through an impeccable comic/ tragic timing and an uncanny control of every sinew of his own body. We are in the presence of greatness!
3. Re costume and staging. OMG. Although the creators didn't seem to go out of their ways to impress - not with outlandish cuts of clothes and psychedelic colors and lighting, as contemporary operas are wont to do, nevertheless the subtle precision stuns. Example: Richard is clothed throughout as a sort of junebug in different stages of its metamorphosis, sporting gossamer vanity at his prime, then shedding the shining metallic sheath to reveal the membrane vulnerability beneath. OMG.
4. Re psychology. When I approach "Richard II" by reading or via lesser stage renditions, I often find "Henry IV" perplexing: what's all this weighty guilt in the King, if he's merely responsible for the deposing of a wayward, effete, ludicrous effigy of a sovereign predecessor? Whishaw, on the other hand, convincingly demonstrated why - it's the MIND-FUCKING, Stupid. Oh, how thoroughly Whishaw's Richard fucked Henry's labored mind! One can see - and believe, Richard's pitch-perfect blend of touching, infectious self-pity, and shrewd and ruthless psychological manipulation of his opponents, so potent that nobody can leave without a deep traumatic scar once penetrated by that curious beam of malice. BRAVO, Whishaw!
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