Portly, courtly Henry VIII created quite the ex-wives club, and not the kind anyone would wish to join.
Brits learn the fates of the 16th-century monarch and his six wives by an old mnemonic rhyme: “divorced, beheaded, died. divorced, beheaded, survived.” Those are the first words said in “Six,” a slight but kinkily entertaining meta-musical now at Chrysler Hall through Sunday. Since Americans might need tutoring on Tudors, here we go: Catherine of Aragon (divorced, understudy Jana Larell Glover at the Tuesday performance); Anne Boleyn (beheaded, sex kitten Zan Berube); Jane Seymour (died, Amina Faye); Anna of Cleves (divorced, an especially funny Terica Marie); Katherine Howard (beheaded, Aline Mayagoitia); and Catherine Parr (survived, Adriana Scalice).
The premise is that the ladies wear suggestive royal glitter to a pity party/contest to determine who had it worst at the hands of Henry. Henry never appears onstage but haunts the evening as each wife gripes about how bad she had it. If it sounds like a jejune concept, it is — with a befittingly sophomoric origin story. Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss, its lyricists and composers, created the piece while undergraduates at Cambridge University Musical Theatre Society. Their compositions — stylistically inspired by pop singers such as Beyoncé and Adele — were professionally orchestrated by Tom Curran. They proceeded surprisingly intact to the West End and Broadway, surviving still in both tony/Tony venues.
It’s a cheapo show production-wise, with no significant costume changes (Gabriella Slade did, however, win a 2022 Tony for the show-leggy frocks), precious little set (a few risers and lots of laser lights), plus exceptionally obnoxious fog effects pumped into Chrysler Hall before the show even began. A four-piece onstage rock band, very appropriately all women, completes the ensemble.
The evening included lots of shout-outs to Norfolk; theme songs for each queen; and three bridging group numbers. Each queen has only her song to break through in character; here’s a quick mention of each, using the vernacular of the show.
Aragon (Glover), sent from Catholic Spain, is married to Henry longer than her peers. She’s not about to go quietly (her song’s titled “No Way”) nor to admit to incest just because she was previously married to Henry’s brother who died, something Henry knew perfectly well all along. Henry starts to stray (big time) when Aragon’s only surviving child is “just a girl” named Mary who eventually assumes the throne. But the other problem, according to Meilan Solly of Smithsonian magazine, is Henry’s infatuation with Anne Boleyn, a lady in waiting at court. The title becomes downright predictive.
Beginning with Boleyn (Berube), sex kitten supreme, Henry renounces Catholicism to indulge in what will become his serial marriages. Boleyn, using hip thrusts and swivels, reminds us of her circumstances: “Tried to elope, but the Pope said, ‘nope’/ Our only hope was Hen-ne-ry,/ He got a promotion caused a commotion,/ Set in motion The C of E.” For non-Episcopalians, that stands for the Church of England. Boleyn, you may recall, was the first literally to lose her head over Hank.
Next up, Seymour (Faye) sings “Heart of Stone,” bemoaning her real affection for her husband. She does produce a male heir, ruling later as Edward VI but only between the ages of 9 and 15. Historian Alison Weir (quoted by Solly) speaks of Seymour’s “meekness, docility and quiet dignity.” She did have enough sense to make Henry “put a ring on it” before she married. Her song likens her heart to rock not because she’s indifferent but because she’s steadfast and loyal. She dies in childbirth.
At this point, the show needs a group-effort kick in the pants delivered by the sophomoric but rousing “Haus of Holbein,” proof positive that German is the easiest language to mock. Henry has seen Holbein’s portrait of the German Anna of Cleves and this “dating service” of the age makes him hot to trot. But when she arrives, Henry feels downcast. (We won’t mention which part.) He marries her pro forma, then divorces her after six months, setting her up in a country castle.
In “Get Down,” show-stealing Marie mugs and dances her utter satisfaction at being away from Henry and being the queen of her castle: “I’m the queen of the castle,/ Get down you dirty rascal.”
Next, Howard (Mayagoitia) gets a second sex kitten slot with the song “All You Wanna Do.” She regales us with an account of multiple lovers before Henry (“please me, squeeze me, birds-and-the-bees me”). She then confides, “With Henry, it isn’t easy,/ His temper’s short, and his friends are sleazy.” She takes on one “friend” too many and ends up be-headed for the door.
That finally brings us to Parr (Scalice), who is in love with an unnamed man but is forced to marry Henry. In “I Don’t Need Your Love” she explains, “That’s not my story, there’s so much more/ Remember that I was a writer,/ I wrote books and psalms and meditations,/ Fought for female education/ … Why can’t I tell that story?” The show, only somewhat convincingly, turns to its feminist credo, reinforced by the queens’ big finishing number “Six”: “Too many years lost in his story/ We’re free to take our crowning glory.”
Herstory ascendant (sort of)! Off with his head?
Page Laws is dean emerita of the Nusbaum Honors College at Norfolk State University. prlaws@aya.yale.edu
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IF YOU GO
When: 8 p.m. Friday; 2 and 8 p.m. Saturday; 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sunday
Where: Chrysler Hall, 215 St. Paul’s Blvd., Norfolk
Tickets: Start at $40
Details: ticketmaster.com, sevenvenues.com
