The halls are decked with holly, the presents are wrapped with care, and Dad even let Mom out of prison for the holidays. It’s an old-fashioned Plantagenet family Christmas, and betrayal and manipulation flow as freely as the mulled wine.
The Lion in Winter follows the fractious family of tough-as-nails medieval king Henry II as they gather for an unforgettable Christmas. All three Plantagenet boys have the same thing on the top of their Christmas lists: Daddy’s crown. Now that the eldest son and heir is dead, the crown could go to any of them — a fact that both parents use as a constant bargaining chip. Cue two and a half hours of increasingly elaborate power plays, with weapons and words wielded in equal measure.
If this sounds a bit familiar, you may be thinking of the hit TV show Empire, which is actually a direct adaptation of The Lion in Winter. (The family’s last name is even “Lyon!”) Or perhaps Succession comes to mind. The more literarily minded may think of King Lear, which Henry himself references at one point. This kind of classic family drama feels almost mythic, and indeed, the Plantagenet family can be as arbitrary and brutal as any pantheon of ancient gods. In James Goldman’s script, though, they’re also awfully funny, armed with a nonstop barrage of witty barbed retorts.
This is by no means a short play, and after about the 18th double-cross, your eyes, too, may begin to cross. But in the Rude Mechanicals’ production, the intrigue moves along at a snappy clip thanks to director Stephen Cox. Throughout the production, blocking and movement are smooth and confident, making good use of the intimate space.
From the moment you walk into the cozy blackbox theater at the Greenbelt Arts Center, the Rude Mechanicals whisk audiences back in time to the 12th century. Unicorn tapestries hang along the dim passageway, illuminated only by the flickering light of a small Christmas tree, while a playlist of catchy Medieval tunes sets the tone. (Sound design by Wes Dennis tastefully incorporates thematic underscoring throughout the play, adding extra oomph to dramatic moments without distracting from the performances.)
A handsomely painted stone wall (Jaki Demarest and Maddie Tinsley-Hayward), hung with banners and tapestries, serves as a backdrop for the real focal point: Henry’s throne. In a clever bit of set engineering by Alan Duda, the supporting columns behind it unfold and transform the throne area into a four-poster bed.
Fittingly, Duda also plays King Henry, a man who is constantly engineering the situation around him. He portrays the family patriarch with less bombast and bluster than you might expect, but his Henry is still clearly a dangerous foe, mischievous twinkle in his eye and all. He very rarely raises his voice, but when he does, it’s well-timed.
Henry’s long-estranged wife, Eleanor of Acquitaine, is the only one who can out-fox him, which is why he’s had her locked up in prison for the past decade or so. It’s also why their chemistry is so wickedly good. As played by Jaki Demarest, Eleanor is a woman of steely resolve and magnetic charisma. While she lets her indomitable facade slip just enough to reveal key moments of vulnerability, her performance also implies that those moments, too, may all be calculated. She can let loose a single tear with the best of them. Demarest also has a wonderful knack for tossing off one-liners, and you can’t help but like Eleanor even though you can’t trust her as far as you can throw her.
Her three sons certainly don’t trust her, no matter how much she showers them with motherly embraces. “I don’t much like our children,” she confesses to Henry at one point. You can’t blame her: they’re all a rather vicious bunch, bred in their parents’ image.
Eldest son Richard the Lionheart (a tightly-coiled Tone Arce) is a skilled warrior and Mommy’s favorite for the throne, but he’s also sullen and quarrelsome. The baby of the family and Daddy’s favorite, John, is a whiny, foolish brat — and sorely lacking in the hygiene department (the pit stains on his costume are a fun touch). Charlie Suchi plays him with relish. Then there’s the classic neglected middle child, Geoffrey, a consummate schemer who enjoys pitting his family members against one another. Lucian Clarkewallis brings an aloof elegance to the role, each gesture or eye movement carefully controlled.
Many of the performances here are well-calibrated to the small size of the theater, giving the entire production a cinematic feel. While some actors occasionally stumble over lines and names in this densely wordy script, they move with purpose and keep the stakes high.
The only thing more uncomfortable than spending Christmas with your divorced parents is bringing Dad’s new girlfriend into the picture, especially when said “girlfriend” is technically your own fiancée. Alais is a lovely young French princess whose hand in marriage comes as part of a package deal with the crown. Her years-long affair with Henry does somewhat complicate the deal, as does the uncertainty as to which brother she’s supposedly marrying. Maddie Tinsley-Hayward makes Alais affectingly sympathetic, but in no way a wilting flower. She isn’t afraid to show a ruthless side to the princess.
Things get even more fraught when Alais’ little brother, King Philip of France, shows up to demand that either Alais gets married to somebody right away, or Henry returns the generous dowry. Philip is only a year older than the babyish John, but a far more competent schemer, and Sarah Pfanz captures both his youth and his resolve. Though she conveys a sense of haughty imperiousness, there’s also a hint of modern teenager in her mocking delivery, complete with the occasional eye roll. Pfanz also skillfully conveys when Philip is feeling a little out of his depth, shaking off his nerves before coolly greeting his next adversary or downing endless cups of brandywine.
Amid it all, four costumed players double as an ensemble of servants and a stage crew, resetting the stage for each scene with choreographed interactions (Nic Adams). A tipsy monk sipping from each glass, he removes adds a touch of amusement. They also move pieces on a chess board sitting front and center on the stage, with which the entire cast interacts throughout. Some use chess moves to emphasize a point, while others contemplate strategy while alone. If the use of chess maneuvers starts to feel a little predictable, Richard mixes it up to audible gasps from the audience by knocking over a handful of pieces all at once.
Rarely can a theater production credit a creative team member with choreographing a chess game; here, that honor belongs to Alan Duda, a fitting responsibility for ultimate game master King Henry. It’s refreshing to see the actors also play a significant role in crafting the physical world of the play. Attention to detail is strong throughout this production. Rich period costumes (procured by Jaki Demarest and fitted by Nic Adams and Sarah Pfanz) create a consistent sense of time and place, and Queen Eleanor’s arsenal of jewelry looks particularly dazzling in Jeff Poretzky and Liana Olear’s lighting. Though the program doesn’t mention a hair stylist, Alais’ pearl-adorned period hairstyle is the perfect princessy touch.
While it might seem a bit odd to enjoy a Christmas play on a balmy 85-degree day, it’s certainly no odder than locking your family members in the dungeon. True royalty thinks outside the box. And while the Plantagenets all seem due for coal in their stockings this year, this witty, intimate production feels like a gift for fans of medieval intrigue and messy family drama alike.
Running Time: Two hours and 30 minutes, with a 15-minute intermission.
The Lion in Winter plays Friday and Saturday, September 18 and 19, 2026, presented by The Rude Mechanicals, performing at Greenbelt Arts Center, 123 Centerway, Greenbelt, MD. To purchase tickets ($24, general admission; $22, senior/military; $12, child/student), call (301) 317-7964 or go online.
The full cast and creative team are available here.
