Handbagged
Directed by Indhu Rubasingham
At the Kiln Theatre

Earlier this year, the Kiln Theatre announced their revival of Moira Buffina’s 2013 play, Handbagged, based on the weekly audiences between Queen Elizabeth II and Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. Those involved had no idea that its opening night would be scheduled for the day after the Queen’s death. They can also have had no idea that the UK’s prime minister during its run would be Liz Truss, who resembles Thatcher more closely than any of her predecessors.

The premise of the play is simple – we get to peer into the weekly audiences that the monarch gives to her prime minister. In these audiences, it is said, the politician is able to speak more freely than in almost any other situation, because they can be sure that the monarch will not leak any aspect of their conversation. It is a brilliant idea for a play, with two remarkable female leaders interacting in an environment where their contrasting personalities are brought to the fore to humorous effect. One of the few similarities between the two figures – apart from their gender – comes when Thatcher adopts the royal ‘we’ to describe herself.

Rather than giving us two hours of one-on-one conversation, the play spices up the dynamic by including four further cast members. We have older versions of the Queen and Thatcher, casting a retrospective eye over their younger selves. And there are two male actors, who play a huge variety of characters. These include Denis Thatcher (Margaret’s husband), Peter Carrington (foreign secretary during Thatcher’s early years as PM), Neil Kinnock (Labour leader), Ronald Reagan, Gerry Adams (of the IRA), Michael Heseltine (Thatcher’s internal rival), Arthur Scargill (who took the miners out on strike), Rupert Murdoch, Kenneth Kaunda (Zambia’s president), and, er, Nancy Reagan. That is not a complete list, but gives some idea of the range needed by the male actors.

On a set that is pure white, with little furniture other than a couple of chairs and a hollowed-out Union Jack as the background, the six actors let the audience in on the act, with the fourth wall regularly broken. The Queen is keen for there to be an interval, which she says is often the best bit of a play. Thatcher, however, wants to ‘press on’ without one. Throughout, Thatcher is resolute, stubborn, serious, while the Queen bemoans her inability to break through the iron lady’s and attempts to lighten the mood with gossip and small talk. The bringing in of numerous characters allows the play to function as a history lesson of the best kind as it runs through the most momentous events of Thatcher’s time in office and, impressively, it never feels polemical – despite Thatcher’s lecturing. It is unlikely to change people’s minds on this most divisive of prime ministers – those who admire her formidable courage will see that here, while those who view her as ‘uncaring’ (as the Queen allegedly described her) will have their own perspectives confirmed too.

All six of the performers deliver. The female leaders had instantly recognisable voices, and Marion Bailey (older Queen), Abigail Cruttenden (younger Queen), Kate Fahy (older Thatcher) and Naomi Frederick (younger Thatcher) imitate them near-perfectly. There is little of the caricature evident in other recent dramatisations, such as Gillian Anderson’s in The Crown. Caricature is present in some of the male characters, but the ability of Richard Cant and, especially, Romayne Andrews to switch between roles within seconds makes up for the occasional lack of nuance. If we’re being picky, Carr’s American accent is underwhelming but this can be forgiven given his otherwise excellent performance.

It took a little while for the audience to ease into the witty humour of this play; we are not yet used to speaking about the Queen in the past tense, as a figure from history rather than our steadfast head of state. But the performers guided us there gradually, and (unusually for a play where comedy is a key part) the second half is stronger than the first partly as a result of that.

Almost every scene in the play seems to have its current comparison. We are invited to laugh at Thatcher’s attempt at curtseying, as we laughed at Truss’s own puppet-esque attempt with the new King. When the leaders discuss rumours of a rift between them, and when Thatcher tells – sorry, ‘advises’ – the Queen not to go to a meeting of Commonwealth leaders, the mind turns to Truss’s recent ‘advice’ to the King that he should not attend the Cop27 climate change summit. At one stage, the Queen suggests that rising inequality may, perhaps, not be the greatest thing in the world, and Thatcher pushes back. This hits a nerve given Truss’s recent attempt to cut taxes for the rich and slash benefits for the poor. Thatcher describes the miners as the ‘enemy within’; Truss has argued that she is being stymied by an ‘anti-growth coalition’ which apparently includes the opposition parties, the BBC, environmental activists and ‘Brexit deniers’. There are echoes everywhere, though at least one gets the sense with Thatcher that she truly believed she was a defender of democracy, whereas Truss’s ideological convictions seem to be limited to a simple worship of wealth.

Beyond these political resonances, there are also moments that have become more poignant with the Queen’s death. She speaks of her love for Balmoral, describing it as ‘home’, and prides herself on the number of prime minister’s she has met – and outlasted. The vast majority of those attending will know that it was at Balmoral that she died, two days after she had kissed hands with the final prime minister of her reign.

Little has changed from the original production nine years ago – the only line I noticed that had been added was an ‘and marmalade!’ from the older Queen during a discussion about jam, presumably a reference to the Queens’ sketch with Paddington Bear. The desire among most Britons to indelibly link the Queen to the fictional bear who she appeared with on a single occasion appears to be insatiable. That kitsch faux pas aside, this is an entertaining revival of a witty play that has been revived during precisely the period where it has the greatest contemporary relevance.

Handbagged is playing at the Kiln Theatre from 9 September to 29 October 2022.

Christopher Day is currently a PhD student at the University of Westminster.