Director Craig Baldwin’s thrilling new adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Richard II for Red Bull Theater boldly transposes the play’s setting from late 14th-century England to a vibrantly realized, greed-is-good 1980s Manhattan. It is a choice that not only allows for some stunning costumes by Rodrigo Muñoz, but also conjures a period of national disunity, with a divisive leadership that rhymes both with this ancient chapter in the chronicles of medieval England as well as America in 2025 and what got us to this point in our own history.
The production’s stark and portentous opening sees Baldwin shift a major Act 5, Scene 5 soliloquy by King Richard (an enthralling Michael Urie, fresh from his triumphant stint in Oh, Mary! on Broadway) upfront, with him already deposed, humbled, and imprisoned. It proves to be a smart move that immediately draws us into the character’s inner-life. It is a speech that humanizes him at a vulnerable moment when he does not have to put on appearances for either friend or foe, with nothing but his own thoughts for company.
Moving this speech forward also underscores the inevitability of the monarch’s fate, giving a modern New York audience the same knowledge that a 1595 English crowd would have had going into the play’s first performance by the Lord Chamberlain’s Men. As the action unfolds—now as an extended flashback playing out in Richard’s tormented memory as he sits in solitude “unkinged”—there is still intrigue aplenty as he traces back over what led to him handing over his crown; the “lamentable tale of me”. While Baldwin deftly sets the pace and tone of a gripping political thriller that examines the nature of power itself, giving the piece an urgency and immediacy.
One key moment in Richard’s eventual unraveling is his handling of a claim by his cousin Henry Bolingbroke (a magnificent Grantham Coleman) that the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray (Daniel Stewart Sherman), is “a false traitor and injurious villain”. In turn, Mowbray charges his accuser of being “a recreant and most degenerate traitor”, which leads to an unresolved duel. With both men surviving, Richard exiles Bolingbroke for “twice five summers”, while Mowbray receives the heavier sentence of banishment with “dateless limit”.
Although the King cuts a capricious figure—quickly shortening Bolingbroke’s sentence by four years to “six frozen winters” to abate the “grievéd heart” of the Duke’s father, Gaunt (a commanding Ron Canada in dual roles)—Urie’s Richard is also a calculating political maneuverer attempting to retain the crown. He has good reason to get the Duke out of the country, a potential challenger to the throne whom he observes has an easy ability to connect with common people, a skill he severely lacks. While the King sees the convenient death of Gaunt in his son’s absence as an opportunity to seize his assets.
These trying—and tediously heteronormative—affairs of state, along with an ongoing war in Ireland and depleted funds to contend with, disrupt the enticing queer utopia that is Richard’s daily life with his coterie at court, including Sir Bagot (nicely played by Urie’s real-life partner Ryan Spahn). Whether his majesty’s scantily clad inner circle is draped over one another in a sauna or dressed to the nines, shoulder pads popping, to groove away a coke-fueled night on the dancefloor of a Studio 54-like club, the evoked decadence and sexual freedom is beautifully staged.
The Queen (a luminous Lux Pascal exuding regal with every fibre) clearly has a close bond of mutual adoration with her King. One of the production’s most tender moments comes as they bid each other a final farewell, with detailed, poignant work by Urie and Pascal who convey what these characters have meant to one another in a wordless embrace. The passionate physical relationship in Richard’s life though is with his cousin Aumerle (David Mattar Merten). While other characters might refer to this pairing euphemistically, like Bolingbroke’s supporter, Northumberland (Emily Swallow)—who disapprovingly underscores “friend” in her speech so we know exactly what she is insinuating—Baldwin does not merely hint at what it going on between the men.
In one scene, Aumerle strips naked before his King as he joins him in the sauna, in another he helps him to dress in his chamber, while the lovers share several ardent kisses throughout the play. There is a potent chemistry between them, intimate and intoxicating, that makes this a captivating relationship that feels crucial to the narrative. The role of Aumerle is merged with another character in Baldwin’s adaptation, which adds a further layer to their coupling.
Merten is magnetic as the King’s boyfriend and one of the highlights of the show is his vocal delivery of a haunting, slowed-down, out-of-time version of the ultimate 80s anthem, “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” by the Eurythmics, that is as unsettling as it is alluring. It is a track which reverberates throughout the play in various versions with exquisite sound design by composer Brandon Wolcott. The lyrics have a thematic resonance, with the refrain of “some of them want to…” befitting those the King has surrounded himself with, while “hold your head, keep your head” takes on a new meaning amidst the threats of execution by decapitation that are thrown around.
Baldwin’s sharp vision for the production includes switching the genders of several key roles, which adds a fresh dimension to these figures and the dynamics between the characters they engage with. While the 80s saw the Iron Lady dominate UK politics, here the power players are the Duke of York who becomes a Duchess (and therefore Richard’s aunt and Aumerle’s mother), while Northumberland becomes a Countess, and Bushy becomes a Lady.
Nothing about this production is tentative or ambiguous. Baldwin fully commits to his staging choices and the 80s setting, while every line of verse is spoken with clear purpose by this talented company (including five Juilliard alum, along with Baldwin) who often make their active listening and reactions as impactful as their speech. Coleman in particular gives real bite and clarity to his vocally dexterous delivery of Shakespeare’s text which had me hanging on his every word, matched by his riveting stage presence and movie star charisma. While at the centre of it all, Urie is in impressive command of his craft, offering a spellbinding, playfully alive and unpredictable performance that captures the tyrannical, mercurial and meditative sides of this monarch in crisis questioning what it means to be a king. You can see Shakespeare’s language living in Urie’s body as he performs, often physicalizing what he is saying, without it being reductive or too literal, but more as if the character is trying to make himself take in his own vivid thoughts. He also finds an entertaining strain of gallows humour in his Richard.
Arnulfo Maldonado’s sleek set design, in tandem with Jeanette Oi-Suk Yew’s moody lighting, takes things from claustrophobic to expansive with a versatile glass cube centre stage serving as a continual reminder of Richard’s eventual imprisonment. The use of 80s tech—like pagers, chunky cellphones, and video cameras—is never merely ornamental, but skillfully woven into the fabric of scenes. While Baldwin’s staging continually helps to elucidate the text, such as in the standout duel scene between Bolingbroke and Mowbray, which is a blast. It is inventively envisioned as a Vegas-style bout with Richard’s courtier, Bushy (Sarin Monae West), serving as referee in a Grace Jones meets Klaus Nomi-inspired look with a Don King hype person attitude calling the shots—literally—in a Russian roulette standoff.
The intimacy of the Astor Place Theatre—in the neighbourhood where the 1849 riot occurred, apparently stemming from a dispute between two adversarial Shakespearean actors over who was the superior—allows for a subtlety and nuance in performance that a Broadway space often does not. Steamy, stylish and seductive, Baldwin’s Richard II is the stuff that sweet dreams are made of.
By James Kleinmann
Richard II runs Off-Broadway at Astor Place Theatre in a limited engagement extended through December 21st, 2025. For more details and tickets head to: redbulltheater.com.
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