We know Henry VIII had a lot of wives but, in Mark Rosenblatt’s Globe production (the first time Shakespeare’s late play has been staged here), he has enough personalities to match. Dominic Rowan is a dynamic and tangible King Henry; a giddy school boy scampering around at a dance, a brooding teenager after meeting Katherine, a wounded bear upon learning of his subjects’ betrayal and, finally, a hushed father. Rowan’s restless performance propels this difficult play forward, lightening some potentially heavy moments and lending a natural feel to what can sometimes feel like a rather formal, episodic piece. 

It is not that Henry’s character goes through a transformation; that would imply he learns something, that people and situations change, but this is not what ‘Henry VIII’ is about. Instead, the King seems to move in circles and, just as we think he might be growing in stature, something causes him to stumble. Watching Rosenblatt’s production, one realises the King and the monarchy deserve each other; that Henry’s volatile character and impulsive behaviour, his casual replacement of one Queen with the next, mirrors his own fragile position as King.

This is a humbling history play; one that reflects the ceaseless movement of the monarchy and, in doing so, highlights the expendability of all key players, no mater how much power they might temporarily possess. Rosenblatt and his company accentuate this democratising effect of monarchic succession; no single character is allowed to get too puffed up or monopolise centre stage for too long. Rowan’s Henry VIII is far removed from the great, resounding Kings of Shakespeare’s tragedies and is instead portrayed as an impulsive young man, rattling about in his regal robes, dependent on his emotions rather than experience.

Rowan has worked hard to cast off the formal trappings of playing a King and has created a reachable and recognisable character. When Henry receives news of Buckingham’s betrayal, Rowan swings around a tennis racquet, nonchalant and playful. When the King dances at a masked ball, Rowan portrays him as a frisky and light-hearted suitor. After he meets Anne, Rowan’s Henry broods like a petulant teenager, wailing at his aides: ‘How dare you thrust yourself into my private meditations?  And, finally, when Henry holds his daughter at her baptism, the King becomes still for the first time and whispers, awed, to the Archbishop: ‘Thou hast made me now a man.’

Rowan and Rosenblatt do well to create such a tangible character, from a play that is so often seen as low on meaty roles. However, thin but overblown characterisation is a problem elsewhere. The Cardinal is a plum role – a splendidly nefarious character – but Ian McNeice’s thumping performance feels too loud next to Rowan’s more subtle turn. McNeice is not helped by some heavy-handed stage business: every time the Cardinal sweeps onstage in his sparkling red gown, he is accompanied by sinister, clanging music. Later on, he is followed by a strange, hissing sound. It is an emphatic performance but it is sometimes overdone and the Cardinal’s final speech, after he is stripped of his power, feels a bit bludgeoned.

Anthony Howell is a delicate Buckingham and his oratory, declaimed from a stage jutting into the audience, freezes time. The speech winds around the audience, as Buckingham rallies against his unjust sentence and warns the spectators, ‘Heaven has an end in all.’ Unfortunately, the magic is broken by the entrance of executioner Sir Nicholas, who is decked out in a film-noir, black execution gown and, again, accompanied by hissing music. It sounds like quibbling but there are a number of disjunctive transition moments like this, which puncture some fine, gently persuasive moments.

Aside from these occasional ruptures, the production is held together neatly but loosely by a strong ensemble. Despite the grandeur of the intermittent ceremonies, much of this play is spent far removed from the court; onlookers observe the King from afar, describe royal ceremonies played out at a distance and gossip in the street. The actors playing these transition chaps – gentleman 1, 2 et. al. – handle their roles with a finessed but no-nonsense approach. There is not a touch of artificiality about these linking scenes and indeed, their casual tone means much of this show has a pleasingly natural, local feel; more redolent of Eastenders than a tricky, Shakespearean history play. 

Until August 21st.