Brilliant Huppert dazzles in a one-woman tour de force
Mary Said What She Said Barbican, London ★★★★☆
In the grand soap opera of 16th-century European politics, Mary Stuart played a dizzying role, which rendered her both larger and smaller than life. Crowned Queen of Scotland after her father’s death when she was six days old, she was smuggled over to France aged five to prevent Henry VIII from marrying her off to his son Edward, in order to bring the Scots to heel. She briefly became Queen of France, and had three husbands, all of whom died (one, possibly, with her connivance), before being beheaded for treason by Elizabeth at the age of 44.
The paradox of a queen who was also a political pawn is captured with breathtaking ferocity by Isabelle Huppert, 71, who recounts the story of Mary’s life on the eve of her death, with excerpts from her letters. For the first quarter-hour of the 90-minute tour de force, she is a silhouette at the back of the wide stage, who spits out a swirling torrent of words while standing perfectly still, her hands stiffly crossed on the bodice of a glittering black dress.
As she glides forward, the lighting swims to blue, revealing an unblinking, chalk-white face, which – in the style of Beckett’s monologue Not I – shapes itself around a hyper-mobile, scarlet mouth. The text, by Darryl Pinckney, is directed by Robert Wilson more like a libretto than a play, its tempi slowing and accelerating to tongue-twisting speed, in counterpoint with a lush orchestral score from Ludovico Einaudi.
The production comes from Théâtre de la Ville–Paris and the information-heavy text is performed in French. Mary obsessively references the four Marys who were her companions and minders, and is comically contemptuous of her enemies. As death approaches she becomes more needy, extolling her own beauty, and proclaiming herself innocent of all charges against her.
What in the end do we learn about her? That she is unknowable, because royalty is a performance and a propaganda war. A relatable humanity occasionally pierces the facade – such as her love of animals or her grief at being separated from her son, the future King James. But their impact says as much about our yearning for empathy as about her. This show will not be to everyone’s taste, but for fans of Wilson and the magnificent Huppert, it is a collector’s item.
The paradox of a queen who was also a political pawn is captured with breathtaking ferocity by Huppert