Charlie Condou and Mary Roscoe in The Throne at the Charing Cross Theatre. Photo: Tristram KentonOf course, not every subject of the realm is an enthusiastic monarchist and one such (physics teacher Dr Derek Jones played by Charlie Condou) pours scorn on the fuss and disruption the visit engenders. During a mischievous moment of madness, he squabbles with the headmaster (Michael Joel Bartelle), resigns, and then pays an irreverent visit to utilise the specially installed grand monarchical portaloo — getting caught in the act by HMQ herself (played by Mary Roscoe).
This is the farcically contrived nonsense which serves as a backdrop for the discussion piece between monarch and subject, on the subject of monarchy. Incredulity is stretched further as the unlikely pairing find themselves trapped inside the facility which they discover is also home to a ticking bomb planted by a shadowy terrorist figure moments before the monarch’s arrival (cue: convoluted scientific application of logic to explain away this inherently weak plot foundation)!
Over and above the expected regal, prim stuffiness, there is a further stilted air due to key sections of dialogue suffering from obvious speechifying. This jars with the otherwise expletive-strewn, chatty conversational style of the writing, which is more reflective of the playwright’s natural genre of TV drama.
As matters proceed, researched royal anecdotes are exhumed and dusted-off for the audience’s supposed benefit, but the majority fall flat or are lost in verbal convolution. Had director Anthony Biggs made some braver choices with physical comedy options, perhaps the fatuous nature of the plot could have spawned a funnier end result. As it is, everyone tries their best with the material, but the limits in the writing renders The Throne more of a potty than something about which anyone could ever feel flush with success.
