Richard III review: Michelle Terry’s controversial Globe show takes aim at toxic men

Spare us from strutting men with stupid hair. That’s the vibe here as Globe artistic director Michelle Terry takes Richard III and turns him into the kind of swaggering, entitled, entirely self-regarding mop-haired misogynist man that we’ve seen way too much of in positions of power in recent years.

Her choice not to give the role to a disabled actor was met with immediate criticism, with more than 100 people signing an open letter published by the Disabled Artists Alliance calling for the role to be recast. Terry ploughed on, this week saying that the backlash was “disproportionate” and that “the level of hate and anger towards me was dangerous”. The (mis)treatment of women, it seems, was her main concern in conceiving the production. A cast of women and non-binary actors shows up not just the awfulness of bad men but their ridiculousness too. With an evil bleached bob and a manner that staggers from comic villainy to impotent rage via ennui, Terry’s Richard starts out quite funny and becomes increasingly hideous.

Terry takes the starring role in a production directed by Elle While, in which the approach to the text isn’t one of great reverence. References to Richard’s disabilities are gone, as are some of the most famous lines. Interpolated instead are quotes by Donald Trump, who could argue for a co-writing credit. “When you’re a star, they let you do it, you can do anything,” Terry’s Dick says randily after he’s wooed the wife of the man he just killed.

It’s a Richard III that’s been amped up to make a point, and to make the point brashly and bluntly. Costumes reinforce it, a mad scramble of styles from Tudor to present – one actor wears doublet and hose and sparkly trainers – to show that there have always been horny old a***holes throughout history. Meanwhile, in case you’re missing the point, Terry’s apparel becomes more and more absurd. First comes an erect codpiece, then Calvins, then a latex muscly torso. And the more powerful Richard becomes, the more trashy too – soon he’s wearing gold trousers.

This isn’t subtle satire, Shakespeare’s undying language used to hang the politicians of the present. It’s open mockery. Terry doesn’t question masculine power, she doesn’t even condemn it, she ridicules it. Every opportunity for a groin-thrust is seized. The way she does silly voices, her complete sense of entitlement in her swagger: she’s taking the piss, turning these bloated men into stupid little children, as do Helen Schlesinger’s (stunningly pinstripe-suited) Buckingham and Catrin Aaron’s Hastings and the other yes men that prop up the big swinging Dick.

The conceit has its limitations: Shakespeare allows Richard a moment of self-doubt the night before the Battle of Bosworth as the ghosts of the people he killed come and haunt him. It gives Trump, Putin, Johnson and the other targets of Terry’s disgust way too much credit to suggest they could ever have the capacity for such self-awareness.

It does feel like a Richard III hollowed out, in some ways, to make its point – and it relies heavily on Terry’s charisma to carry it. But there are still good moments without her. Murders that usually happen offstage are executed with glee here, corpses rolling into a death pit in the centre of the stage. The killing of the little princes is particularly good. Meanwhile, one of the best scenes comes when the three surviving women, Margaret, Elizabeth and the Duchess of York, lament their dead male relatives in a strange incantation of names.

It’s not a perfect production, but every time a question pops up, it seems to answer itself... isn’t the idea a bit passe? Didn’t we do Shakespeare-as-Trump metaphor back in 2016? Except here he still is, on trial for assaulting a writer and paying off a porn star. Aren’t the Trumpy quotes wedged in kind of crassly and hamfistedly (you half expect Richard to shout “my kingdom for a whore” at the end)? Yeah, but those are some of the best bits, Terry thrillingly gruesome as she delivers those modern lines. And doesn’t it all feel a bit obvious? Richard III is a bad man, bad men are bad, is now and ever shall be? Well, yes – so obvious that no one’s done it before.

Shakespeare’s Globe, until 3 August