(20) King John

I have mixed feeling about this one. At times it was interesting and at times it was not (or worse…but more on that in a minute). A quick synopsis (spoiler alert): The French King Philip thinks the English King John’s nephew (Arthur) should be king instead of John (and he has a point actually, as Arthur is the real heir). King John, predictably, disagrees. They fight. John wins, but dies in the end (this is supposed to be a tragedy after all). In between all of this we have a newly enfranchised nobleman running interference with a rogue clergyman bookended by the siege of a French town and an ill-advised escape attempt.

As my above synopsis suggests, this play is all over the place and, as such, comes across as a bit of a mess at times. Plot points come and go, conveniently contrived for the sake of the dramatic form at the expense of coherence and plausible reality (an important element to my modern eye). Take, for example, the siege of the French town of Angiers in Act II, Scene I. This siege almost devolves into two mortal enemy armies, on a whim, combining forces to raze the place to the ground simply because the townspeople cannot say who is king. Why can’t they say? Because no one knows. Wouldn’t want to be a townsperson, right?

Or how about this: In Act IV, Scene II,  King John, who has in writing ordered the death of his nephew (and rival heir), denies that he has done so. His reasoning? The nobleman he told to carry out the execution is so ugly looking that he was compelled by proxy, and therefore innocent. In Shakespeare’s own words (spoken by King John):

"This murder had not come into my mind:
But taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect,
Finding thee fit for bloody villany,
Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death;
And thou, to be endeared to a king,
Made it no conscience to destroy a prince."

Translation: It’s not my fault that I directly and in writing told you to kill him. Your “abhorr’d aspect” made me do it (insert eye roll here). It’s a fantastic claim of course (and like I said, not the only one in this play) that strains credulity and makes for an uneven experience at best and raises the specter of (gasp!) lazy cop-out at worst. In the murder example above, perhaps an elegant and reasoned speech from John about the brutal realities of kingly succession and the tough choices that the guy in charge is forced to make. Or maybe some layered excuse involving the terrible human cost of leading the body politic? Nope. Instead it’s “your ugly made me ugly.” It just doesn’t seem to work so well.