Two men – the very best of mates – fall in love with the same woman. Who is the more worthy suitor and how is it to be decided? By a fight to the death, of course. That’s what men do.

Giovanni Boccaccio’s epic poem Teseida delle Nozze d’Emilia (The Theseid, Concerning the Nuptials of Emily) inspired Geoffrey Chaucer’s briefer The Knight’s Tale (first in The Canterbury Tales) which in turn spawned Palamon and Arcite, a play by Richard Edwardes (1566).*

The prologue to William Shakespeare and John Fletcher’s The Two Noble Kinsmen – first performed at Blackfriars in 1614 – tells us “Chaucer (of all admir’d) the story gives; There constant to eternity it lives.” In Lori Leigh’s production – the first ever in Wellington, it’s claimed – the prologue is sung, beautifully, as a wedding processional for Theseus, Duke of Athens, and Hippolyta, his trophy wife from a recent war with the Amazons.

We may be forgiven for thinking we’re in the last act of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, except instead of being diverted by the rude mechanicals’ rendition of The Tragical Tale of Pyramus and Thisbe, the post-wedding entertainment is interrupted by what, at first glance, looks like a visitation of the ‘weird sisters’ from Macbeth.

In fact they are three very determined Thebian Queens whose war-dead husbands have been denied proper burial by the despotic King, Creon. Theseus is prevailed upon to postpone his wedding night in favour of raising an army against Creon to see justice done, this being the way of that ancient world. (Oh wait – it’s still happening that way.)

The titular noblemen, Palamon and Arcite, are cousins. Also united in their dislike of their tyrannical Uncle Creon, they nevertheless defend their homeland, and are defeated and wounded. But because Theseus admires their warrior skills, he takes them back to Athens to recuperate, albeit as prisoners-of-war.

Having sworn eternal friendship and fidelity to each other – “We are one another’s wife, ever begetting New births of love” – Palamon and Arcite espy Hippolyta’s sister, Emilia, in the garden. Both fall instantly and deeply in love with her, although Palamon worships her as a Goddess while Arcite loves her as a Woman.

Meanwhile the Jailer’s Daughter – who unaccountably has no name despite being given a major storyline and a number of soliloquies – has disregarded her own lovelorn Wooer (also unnamed) and fallen in love with Palamon. But when she facilitates his escape from jail, he disregards her.

While Palamon is a fugitive hiding out in the forest, Arcite has been freed but banished. In disguise, he excels at the Athenian Sports and Theseus rewards him by making him a servant to Emilia. But the rom-com potential of this set-up remains unexplored in favour of following the misfortunes of the Jailer’s Daughter who, lost in the forest, is going mad – not least because Palamon’s jail-break has resulted in her father being condemned to hang.

The obligatory comic interlude is provided by a Schoolmaster rehearsing the Country People into a dance, which is performed for an indulgent Duke and Duchess.

When the kinsmen are reunited in the forest they reaffirm their eternal love then fight a duel over Emilia (because that is the noble thing to do) and for their pains Theseus sentences them to death (because that’s what Athenian rulers do). He is prevailed on to show mercy but Emilia is unable to choose between the Thebian princes so Theseus commits them to a trial of supremacy: the winner will gain Emilia; the loser will be sentenced to death.

Meaning may be gleaned from the fact that Arcite prays to Mars (the God of War) while Palamon makes obeisance to Venus (Goddess of Love). And the virginal Emelia prays to Diana, the virgin goddess of childbirth and women (also known as the Goddess of Art). There are twists in resolving both storylines that I won’t reveal hear. Suffice to say both are bittersweet and dubbing the play a romantic tragi-comedy is entirely appropriate.   

Aficionados will catch many whiffs and snatches of Shakespeare’s better-known plays as this clearly comprehended and energetically presented production plays out. Too often, however, I can’t hear the play for the shouting. Hopefully, as the season progresses the cast will find the confidence to invite us in to explore the subtler dimensions of the human condition. There are many delicacies to be savoured.

Diesel McGrath (Palamon) and James Cain (Arcite) embrace their roles – and each other – with great intelligence and wit. As Emilia, Stevie Hancox-Monk captures well the dilemma of a compassionate if not passionate woman obliged to be treated as a trophy. Mouce Young makes the Jailer’s Daughter the most compelling character, commanding our empathy as she tries to navigate a society ill-disposed to the lower classes.

The whole well-rehearsed ensemble work diligently to keep the story flowing although I have to suggest that comedy works better when played for truth; the more it’s played as ‘Komedy’ the less funny it is (except maybe to your mates).

This rare opportunity to see The Two Noble Kinsmen is very welcome and recommended. What stays with me is a clear impression of how warped and counterproductive male value systems and the patriarchal societies they engender are.
 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
*Whether it was this or yet another version that Philip Henslowe diarised as a performed in 1594 is unknown, and Edwardes’ text has not survived.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer