The final scene of this Jean Anouilh classic drama shows a naked King Henry II of England suffering flagellation at the tomb of Thomas Becket and crying out, "Is the honor of God washed clean?" Honor of several sorts is a recurring theme in this story of love and battling wills between Henry (Timothy McComb Scott) and Becket, the king's appointed Archbishop of Canterbury (Penny Bittone). Against the background of a large historical canvas, Anouilh keeps the spotlight fixed firmly on this dynamic duo and their homoerotic interdependence. It is a tragic and lengthy tale, but Anouilh's telling of it is often laced with wry, ironic detail, keeping sentiment at bay.
Much is made of the conquering Norman, as represented by Henry and company, versus the subdued Saxon, of which Becket is one. (Anouilh got his history wrong here, but the conflict certainly helps the play). Becket begins as Henry's hedonistic bosom buddy but, upon becoming archbishop, assumes the role of the defender of the church against the power of the king. In the process, Anouilh creates two wonderful opportunities for actors in these juicy contrasting roles. In the original Broadway production, both parts intrigued Laurence Olivier: He initially played Becket to Anthony Quinn's Henry but later played Henry to Arthur Kennedy's Becket. Also in that production was a cast of more than 30 players; don't look for a Broadway revival any day soon.
With such antecedents, it's brave of Twenty Feet Productions to attempt such a complex play. In the confined black space of the Richmond Shepard Theatre, this bare-boards version under the direction of Marc Silberschatz has a hard time indicating the splendor of the English and French courts, although some of Mimi Maxmen's ornate costumes certainly help. Here there is a cast of 16 with doubles, triples, and more; it's of uneven quality, but Emily Mitchell's Queen Mother, Sarah Mollo-Christensen's Gwendolyn, and James Pravasilis' cardinal are pleasing in the passing pageant. Bittone's Thomas captures the calm, ascetic soul of Becket, but the characterization is often unhappily undone by slipshod diction. Scott's Henry, by turns peevishly insecure and royally authoritative, is the energy that successfully drives the play. But the real star here is Anouilh, whose creative talents, despite reduced circumstances, come shining through.
Presented by Twenty Feet Productions at the Richmond Shepard Theatre, 309 E. 26th St., NYC. Sept. 9–23. Wed.–Sat, 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m. (212) 868-4444 or www.smarttix.com.