The Madness of George III at Apollo Theatre

The Madness of George III at Apollo Theatre

24 January, 2012
by: Tom Jeffreys

Funny but ultimately unfulfilling. Tom Jeffreys on Alan Bennett's Madness of George III.

At what point does homage become pastiche? This is the question that arises from Alan Bennettt's The Madness of George III, currently enjoying a revival at the Apollo Theatre, with David Haig in the title role played to such universal acclaim by Nigel Hawthorne back in 1991. Hawthorn also starred in the film version, renamed The Madness of King George apparently to avoid confusing audiences in America.

America itself is a running issue, as the play opens in the aftermath of the American War of Independence in the 1770s. The loss of the former colony clearly weighs heavily on the mind of the monarch, and is one of many reasons given for his descent into insanity. The programme notes tell us that modern medicine diagnoses the king with a rare metabolic disorder called porphyria, but the finest doctors of the late eighteenth century had no idea. Being more concerned with status, they talk all sorts of nonsense in their efforts to cure the monarch (one, in particular, is amusingly obsessed with the royal stool).

But their incompetence takes a nasty turn – especially after the arrival of stern ex-clergyman Dr Willis (an appropriately severe Clive Francis) – as the king is subjected to increasingly violent and inhumane techniques, in part at the bequest of his son, The Prince of Wales (Christopher Keegan as the portly velvet fop). George is separated from his wife (Beatie Edney as the entertainingly inbred Queen Charlotte), forced to endure blistering, straitjackets and violent modes of restraint.

It all adds up to a searing indictment of the medicine of the times. Yet, bizarrely, and abruptly, the king recovers. It's one of many sudden jolts that prevent The Madness of George III realising its full potential. The play does touch on several interesting elements – from the political manoeuvrings of Whig Charles Fox (a raffish Peter Pacey) against Tory William Pitt (a lean and austere Nicholas Rowe) – to the nature of madness, identity and power. The focus on the body of the king – his health as both representative of, and critical to, the health of the nation – is also a thoughtful inclusion, one reminiscent of Marlowe's Edward II. Talk of “the body colonised and divided up” links the loss of the king's mind explicitly to the loss of America, and there's another neat link as Haig, chair-bound, strokes his body and moans, “I had an empire once.”

But none of this is explored in sufficient depth. One shouldn't blame Haig: his is an impressively nuanced performance – from pompous know-it-all to angry fool, recalcitrant child and pitiful wreck – although the arrival of full-blown insanity is perhaps a little too sudden and too soon. The problem is the play, which (barring an excellent moment with Zadok the Priest on the brink of the interval) rattles along through innumerable short, sharp scenes, without ever pausing to think about the implications it raises.

This is exacerbated by the minimal set and cartoonish costumes: the emphasis is then on Bennett's script, and it's found wanting. Yes it's funny, and there's some wonderfully imaginative swearing, but too often it simply feels like pastiche. As a consequence the scene in which the king and Lord Chancellor act out parts of King Lear becomes ironic for all the wrong reasons. Rather than a frightfully clever piece of intertextual metadrama, it just shows the audience what we're missing. Haig would make an excellent Lear.



The Madness of George III runs at the Apollo, Shaftesbury Avenue until 31st March 2012.

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Tom Jeffreys