Wolf Hall: Parts 1 & 2 are adapted by Mike Poulton from Hilary Mantel's double Man Booker Prize winning novels, Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies (published Henry Holt in the U.S.). The plays are based on the deceit, betrayal, and intrigue of the court of Henry VIII. The production features a company of more than twenty actors, headed by Ben Miles as Thomas Cromwell, Lydia Leonard as Anne Boleyn, and Nathaniel Parker as King Henry VIII, all under the direction of Olivier Award nominee Jeremy Herrin, who makes his New York City directing debut. The Royal Shakespeare Company is appearing with the permission of Actors' Equity Association.
The problems are many, beginning with the novels themselves. Oh, they're wonderful and I can't wait for the final book in what is now a trilogy. But when I first heard of the project my initial reaction was not excitement but a quizzical 'Really? Wolf Hall as a play?' Anything can be transmuted into another form of course. But the great strength of the novels is their interior richness. There's plot-a-plenty but that's not what makes Wolf Hall and Bring Up The Bodies great. It's Mantel's quicksilver capturing of Cromwell's thinking, the delight in being inside the mind of the smartest person in the room. All of that would be very hard to dramatize on a stage, to say the least. Your main character remains a cipher to most everyone around him. But what of it? He might address the audience, allow us into his thoughts, like a Richard III. We might delight in his confidence and his confidences. Sadly, the play doesn't attempt this.
I haven't read either of Ms. Mantel's much-praised novels, nor am I a scholar of 16th-century England. I can, however, assure you that Mr. Poulton's 51/2 -hour stage version of 'Wolf Hall,' unlike Bolt's immaculately crafted, endlessly quotable play, is competent but dullish, a procession of short, choppy scenes in which nobody ever says anything more memorable than 'Bring up the bodies!' The acting is as devoid of sparkle as the script, with Mr. Miles giving us a flat and uncharismatic Cromwell and Nathaniel Parker's King Henry sounding way too much like Peter O'Toole.
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