Elizabeth and Raleigh: Late But Live

Picture from edcomfest.com. If you're squinting, the quote is "Though I have the body of a woman, I have the heart and stomach of a king, the brain of a dolphin, and the penis of a hippopotamus. All I need now is some glue."

Elizabeth and Raleigh: Late But Live

Cow Barn @ E4 Udderbelly’s Pasture, Saturday 23rd August 10.35pm

A vision of madness on a Saturday night.

Elizabeth and Raleigh: Late But Live is the spiritual successor to last year’s Johnson and Boswell: Late But Live. Then we were in the Traverse, watching the resurrected Samuel Johnson and James Boswell discuss the merits (or otherwise) of Scotland in the 21st century. (“The sign says ‘Welcome to Scotland’, and indeed, you are welcome to it.”)

The same creative team brings Edinburgh this new treat: the play is ‘devised’ by Stewart Lee and performed by Miles Jupp and and Simon Munnery, with the new addition of Jane Watkins as Prince Tinymeat.

(This year we’re in the Cow Barn – strangely this is the first time this year we’ve been near the giant purple cow we seemed to centre around in 2007.)

Last year, Jupp was the desperately cheery Boswell to Munnery’s devastatingly caustic Johnson. This time, he plays the arrogant Walter Raleigh, seeking the hand in marriage of Munnery’s Queen Elizabeth.

Jupp was excellent once again, arriving on stage to proclaim the wonders of his greatest discovery – the potato – before showering the audience with examples of said object. He gets more of the fun bits this time around, but nevertheless is clearly playing the straight man once again.

His co-star did not disappoint. After ten Munnery-less minutes, the audience was commanded to be upstanding for their Queen, who then emerged from the very back of the theatre, proceeding through the waiting audience to the stage, showering the serfs with petty change and instructing them to buy property.

Watching this from the front row was a genuinely astonishing sight. Munnery’s Elizabeth, in her epic dress, high wig and sequined boots should simply look ridiculous – and verily, sir, she does – but she was also strangely terrifying. As the audience made way, she ascended to the stage and greeted her subjects, before contemptuously addressing each of the nations of Europe in turn. “To the Italians, I say this: Rome wasn’t built in a day. Perhaps it would have been if you spoke less with your arms.”* Munnery’s dry delivery is pitch-perfect, and his performance as a whole is a joy.

As the play continues the drama is heightened, but finds itself dwarfed by the unstoppable ascent of silliness. Last year’s play was not exactly a sombre affair, but the array of ludicrous props and scenarios in Elizabeth and Raleigh outdoes it easily. It’s clear that they had more of a budget this year, and equally clear that they frittered it away on ludicrous toys. All of this made me happy.

I loved last year’s play, and I loved this. Despite all the silliness, both plays hung on the emotional relationship between the two leads, and Munnery in particular puts in a convincing and moving dramatic performance, even when he has underpants on his head.**

Funny, dramatic, and gloriously stupid: a must-see.

*I pinched this quote from a review in The Guardian because I couldn’t remember any of the others. Except: “To the Dutch, I say this: Good luck! Good luck, little ones!” I can’t remember if that’s right, but it was funny.

**This is not strictly true – what I mean to say is, although the portion of the play in which he has underpants on his head is not particularly moving, this does not undermine his later attempts at conveying an emotionally engaging performance when the scene seems to call for it. I simply wrote “Munnery in particular puts in a convincing and moving dramatic performance, even when he has underpants on his head” because I thought that otherwise the pithiness of the observation would be undermined. Do you see what I mean?