'Wolf Hall' and 'The Audience'

It’s hard to imagine that this political figure from 16th-century British history — till now only moderately recognized — has been pulled from the archives, dusted off, spruced up, and given more visibility than Elizabeth II, who has reigned on the stage and screen for the past few seasons.

Cromwell owes his newfound rock-star status to Hilary Mantel, whose award-winning historical novels Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies have been adapted for both the stage and screen, and are now running simultaneously on Broadway and PBS. Thanks to Mantel, Cromwell emerges as an even more complex and compelling character than his flamboyant employer, Henry VIII.

Adapted by Mike Poulton, the Royal Shakespeare Company’s stage production covers the well-worn territory of the first three of Henry VIII’s six marriages in the 1530s: to the pious Katherine of Aragon (Lucy Briers), the scheming Anne Boleyn (Lydia Leonard), and the lovely Jane Seymour (Leah Brotherhead). Headstrong Henry (Nathaniel Parker) enlists Cromwell to navigate him from one marriage into another — a herculean historical feat, considering the obstacle of the Catholic Church. As you can imagine, it makes for delicious drama. (If you saw the recent semi-pornographic Tudors series on Showtime starring Jonathan Rhys Myers, you’ll remember just how tasty the story is.)

Fluidly ceremonial

This riveting two-part, six-hour-long production is mounted on an empty stage, RSC style, with dozens of brilliantly trained British actors flowing seamlessly from scene to scene, speaking in those plummy English accents that send American audiences to theater heaven. Under Jeremy Herrin’s fluid direction, they take to the stage in a ceremonial fashion; each entrance and exit is a graceful theatrical ritual. Add Christopher Oram’s colorful costumes on the bare thrust, and you can conjure up the elaborate landscape, from kingly palaces to the London Tower where poor Anne lost her head.

Once Sir Thomas More was called the man for all seasons (as in the title of Robert Bolt's 1960 play), but Cromwell suits our times much better. He’s a behind-the-scenes operator, like Francis Underwood in Netflix’s House of Cards. As played with cool charisma by Ben Miles, Cromwell almost never leaves the stage, masterminding and manipulating as he shifts his allegiance from the out-of-favor Cardinal Wolsey to the omnipotent Henry. A man of humble beginnings (his father was a blacksmith), Cromwell was clever, ambitious, and disarmingly ruthless. Educated as a lawyer, his rise to power was subtle yet steely in determination. Miles crafts his performance carefully, as he morphs from the number-two man of a number-two man to become the most powerful figure in the Tudor regime, second only to the king. (Mark Rylance, who plays Cromwell in the six-part PBS series with equal strength, offers a slightly more ironic interpretation of the character: darker and warier, with a glint in the eye of a coldly calculating strategist.)

Revisiting Elizabeth

Meanwhile, Helen Mirren isn’t going to allow Elizabeth II to be upstaged by a commoner like Cromwell. Mirren’s now legendary impersonation of the current monarch (and her predecessor/namesake) began in 2005, when she played Elizabeth I in a British TV miniseries. Her subsequent performance as Elizabeth II in Peter Morgan’s film The Queen (2006) garnered her more awards, and this season she’s on Broadway, reigning as Elizabeth II again in a new play called The Audience, also by Morgan.

In The Queen, Morgan focused on “the Diana crisis,” but in The Audience he broadens the perspective to include her relationship with eight of her prime ministers. The title refers to a weekly meeting that the monarch holds with each of her heads of government — an informational one, rather than a policy-setting one (the queen is a figurehead rather than a political ruler).

But as we eavesdrop on these strictly private meetings that have never been taped or recorded, we’re treated to Morgan’s imaginings of what might have been discussed between Elizabeth and Winston Churchill or Margaret Thatcher or Tony Blair or David Cameron. As a result, we not only get a historical overview of 60 years of contemporary British history, we also gain an appreciation into this ordinary yet extraordinary woman who has reigned with dignity, decency, and duty during those difficult decades.

Insecurities and regrets

Moreover, Morgan cleverly introduces an apparition of a younger Elizabeth, who appears throughout the play to discuss with the older Elizabeth her insecurities and regrets over “the unlived life within us all.” Described at one point in the play as a “postage stamp without a pulse,” Mirren’s Elizabeth may be self-effacing and stoical, but at the same time she’s shrewdly observant as well as deeply human. Despite her self-doubts, she’s a constant source of strength and rules the stage (and the country) with an unflagging sense of tradition, compassion, and humor.

Among her prime ministers, Richard McCabe gives a deeply touching dimension to Harold Wilson, the queen’s unofficial favorite, who resigned in the face of early-onset Alzheimer’s. Under Stephen Daldry’s impeccable direction, The Audience is enlightening as well as thoroughly entertaining in its authentic detail, down to the Welsh corgis that bound across the stage.

Don't be surprised if the next UK postage stamp features a picture of Helen Mirren on it. Meanwhile, Britannia rules on Broadway, at least for this season.