By PAUL SIMEI-BARTON
Prunella Scales' restrained portrayal of Queen Victoria speaks of a vanished era in which emotion and self-expression were subjugated to the demands of duty.
All the words spoken in the play are drawn from the Queen's personal correspondence and private journals. It is a tantalising device that holds out
the promise of revealing the monarch's innermost secrets.
But it rapidly becomes clear the journals were an official record, presenting a guarded and highly selective account of royal life.
Anyone expecting the historical equivalent of the Squidgey tapes will be bitterly disappointed. There are no salacious revelations about the Queen's private life, and matters such as her relationship with the Scottish servant Mr Brown are glossed over with oblique references.
The closest we come to anything subversive is when Victoria's account of her devotion to Albert is juxtaposed with a letter in which the Queen speaks of the cruel slavery endured by young brides.
The momentous events of the Victorian era are alluded to but never discussed in any detail, and it is often difficult to reconcile the monarch's everyday concerns with the radical historical transformations that were occurring in her name.
Events as trifling as the acquisition of another island colony do not rate a mention, but it is strange to imagine that in the same week this shy 21-year-old was preparing to marry her cousin, an assembly of Maori chiefs was meeting on the other side of the world to debate whether they should accept the protection offered by Wikitoria.
In keeping with its subject matter the production offers discreet charm and eschews the excessive amusement that Victoria was warned might arise from her youthful passion for quadrilles.
Just as the play evokes a vanished era, Prunella Scales' wonderfully modulated vocal performance gives a glimpse of the highly refined stagecraft that is seldom seen in contemporary theatre.
Unfortunately the script provides limited opportunities for a display of her formidable talents. Victoria's legendary grief at the death of Albert is expressed through the music of Mendelssohn while Scales buries her head on a writing desk.
The play's humour depends on Scales' masterful use of ironic inflection, that enables her to reveal a wealth of meaning from something as banal as a list of dancing partners.
We were amused but not excessively.
