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Review

Billy Crudup delivers an exceptional performance as bisexual Ned Kynaston, an actor renown for his performance of female roles in 17th century London. Loved by his dresser Maria (Danes), resented by his fellow actors for hogging the limelight and possessed of sufficient hubris to capriciously make the wrong enemies, Kynaston mightily enjoys his fame and privilege. Unfortunately for him, King Charles II (Everett), recently returned from exile in France, has a consort with an itch to trod the boards. She induces him first to remove the ban prohibiting women from appearing on stage, then to ban men from playing women's roles. As these pronouncements plunge Kynaston into poverty and despair, they provide Maria the opportunity to pursue her long-held, secret desire to act. But she really isn't good. Even though it saves him from performing broad comic skits in pubs, Kynaston chafes under the job of instructing her in the art of acting; he considers her ascension to the stage an act of treason. But their work together instructs them both, as Kynaston makes her better at what she loves and finds hidden depths as he assays male roles.

The production is flawless: each supporting actor is exemplary, 17th century London is superbly and unflinchingly evoked in detail and atmosphere, the costuming is splendid, the music spot-on, the sets grand, the direction brilliant. The film is a love poem to the pretense and artifice of the theater, that confluence of inventiveness and cunning that creates a shared reality experienced through the grace of a shared suspension of disbelief. Through the mire of sexual ambiguities, petty jealousies and personal rivalries emerges a glorious celebration of life on the stage, an engaging examination of historical events, and a lovely meditation on the many forms of the caring bonds of love.

Ann Yarabinee