The phenomenon Ian McKellen defies time in Player Kings

Player Kings
Noël Coward Theatre, London until June 22, then touring

Around this time of year almost two decades ago, I remember taking my seat at the National Theatre and buckling in for a long-haul six-hour journey that took me through Henry IV Parts 1 & 2 with only a brief stopover between the two. That was when the late Sir Michael Gambon gave us his Falstaff, and, for a man getting on in years, it left him palpably exhausted.

I don’t know what it is about Sir Ian McKellen, but, even though he celebrates his 85th birthday next month, he never appears to show any physical sign of ageing. His Falstaff in Player Kings, Robert Icke’s more truncated three-and-a-half-hour double bill of these two plays, is by contrast alert, agile and engaged for every minute.

Maybe McKellen is acting the part of a younger man and this is, I suppose quite possibly why he appears to be holding back time. More likely it’s his love of acting that is keeping him so young.

Then again, I think McKellen is simply a phenomenon. Even the prodigious feat of being word-perfect in such a major role for three hours would be a challenge for a man half his age.

There was a point on the first night when one of the younger actors momentarily stumbled over a line. I caught the look on McKellen’s face. It was the slightly indulgent expression you’d expect to see in a younger man waiting for an older man to catch up.

To add to the physical challenge, McKellen has to wear a fat suit – I suspect a choice of fat suits, because at one point he is required to lose some weight – and acting in these is going to require stamina as the nights grow hotter still.

I’ve seen a few Falstaffs in my time – probably the late Sir Robert Stephens had been my favourite – but McKellen’s has now replaced him in my esteem. It’s the vulnerability beneath all the bravado that makes his Falstaff so special. There is a haunting sense of an appalling old crook who, while happy to take a gold ring off a dead man, still yearns to be liked.

Icke’s rather brutal editing of the two plays does him no great favours as their director – it makes it difficult for him to keep a clear and compelling narrative going. Hildegard Bechtler’s set design is necessarily user-friendly rather than inspired – it has to be given the vast number of scene changes required – and no member of the supporting cast, while all perfectly able, is quite so good that you do not find yourself yearning for McKellen to amble back on stage.

The plays are not the things on this occasion – but McKellen emphatically is.