King Charles III: A Right Royal Kebab of Lèse-Majesté

The serpent that did sting thy father’s life now wears his crown. —Shakespeare, Hamlet

Lèse-majesté translates as “injury to majesty”, or an insult to the dignity of the monarch. It was first made a crime during the Roman Empire. The last prosecution for the offence in the UK was in 1715. France created another variation of the law in 1789 that was known as lèse-nation, to protect the new values of the Revolution; the law still stands. Lèse-majesté was enforced in Japan until 1946, and in Norway, where defamation of the king could get you five years in prison, as late as 2005. It is still a punishable crime in Thailand.

King Charles III is a movie, directed by Rupert Goold, with a screenplay by Mike Bartlett, based on his popular West End and Broadway play of the same name. It was produced by Simon Maloney and released by BBC2 in 2017. Like the play, the screenplay is written entirely in blank verse. The Telegraph called it “Outstanding and provocative … the most spectacular, gripping and wickedly entertaining piece of lèse-majesté that British theatre has ever seen.”

Sometime in the near future, tens of thousands of people are lining the streets and sitting in front of television screens to watch the sombre funeral procession of Queen Elizabeth. In Westminster Abbey, beneath the soaring voice of a counter-tenor singing in Latin, Prince Charles (played by Tim Pigott-Smith), now King Charles, stands at the head of the royal family, watching his mother’s coffin carried out of the cathedral.

He delivers a Shakespearean-style monologue beginning with the words, “At last!” musing about what he could have achieved had he become king at a younger age. Camilla, now the queen consort, approaches, assuring Charles he “did her proud”. Prince William and Princess Catherine join them. When William mentions to his father that soon he will be the king, Camilla corrects him, “My dear … tradition holds that on the death of kings, or queens, the next is monarch straight away. Your father ruled the moment Granny passed.”

A slightly chubby Prince Harry comes staggering out of the cathedral, a bit disoriented, wanting to “head off” because of a migraine. Prime Minister Tristan Evans gives the King his condolences and the press adviser to the palace, James Reiss, suggests that the King and Prime Minister be seen leaving together, Crown and State, as a sign of solidarity. Charles thinks this inappropriate, declaring he needs to remain “aloft from politics and walk with Royals alone”.

Prince Harry has gone to a nightclub and is having a drink with friends who introduce him to Jessica Edwards, a black, working-class republican. She blurts out, “Invictus himself. So … is Charles really your dad, or was it the other one?” She boldly suggests he ought to take a DNA test. Harry is intrigued by her brashness. They are attracted to each other and go to her apartment. In the morning, there is a knock on the door. Reiss takes Prince Harry aside, advising him that the royal situation is unstable and the “timing” wrong for this kind of liaison.

King Charles is in the weekly meeting with Prime Minister Evans and wants to discuss a bill before him addressing privacy, restricting freedom of the press and media, which has already passed the House of Commons and the House of Lords, but still requires royal assent. Evans supports the bill, but the King wants changes made. He has also instituted a new policy: he will meet weekly with the Leader of the Opposition, Mrs Stevens, as well as the Prime Minister, so as not to show bias towards Left or Right.

The King ushers Evans out and Stevens in, and she advises him not to be bullied; that it is his choice whether to sign this bill or not, but suggests that not signing could possibly cause chaos. After she leaves, Charles sees an apparition of the late Princess Diana in an adjoining room but she vanishes.

The Prime Minister discreetly gives a copy of the bill to William and Catherine and tells them it must be allowed to pass unamended. William wants to leave the matter to his father but Catherine is adamant that he must assert himself.

At a subsequent meeting, the King tells the Prime Minister that the late Queen would not have allowed a bill like this to pass. Evans says that in her time she faced far greater revolution—she almost lost an empire—and reminds Charles that despite her personal views, “She always signed. She always gave consent.” The King says, “Well, I cannot.” Evans threatens that he will ensure the bill becomes law, even without royal assent, weakening the King’s power to intercede in future law-making.

The Prime Minister gives a press conference reminding everyone that assent is merely ceremonial and will not interfere with the law being passed. The King gives his own televised press conference from Buckingham Palace, explaining that in good conscience he cannot support laws that give the government the right to censor what is acceptable to say in print.

Jessica meets privately with Reiss to alert him that a previous boyfriend has some “artistic” pictures from their time together that could embarrass the palace. He is demanding money from her or he will publish them online.

The King finds that public opinion is divided about the press freedom bill. Mrs Stevens visits him discreetly and assures him the law will pass, with or without his signature, in the next vote. He asks her advice and she suggests he research how William IV resolved a similar situation.

In the middle of the night, Charles sees the ghost of Diana again. She tells him she loved him and he will be a great king.

Harry wakes up believing he’s heard his mother scream. Downstairs he finds William, who has also heard the voice. Harry tells him he’s feeling lost at his role in the family now, considering himself a “ginger joke” who merely follows in his brother’s wake. He tells William that Jessica has unblinkered him and he sees more clearly how he is trapped by his family tradition. All William is interested in is whether Harry will be by his side when he is king, according to the pact their mother made them swear.

Catherine presses William to persuade the King to change his mind about the bill. William feels, with the recent death of the Queen, this is not the time to question his father’s authority. The Prime Minister arrives and William tells Catherine to leave matters with him but she refuses, stating that someday she will be queen: “I do not intend to be a silent partner in that regal match.” Catherine apologises to Evans for the stress the family is causing him. The Prime Minister replies that life would have certainly been easier for him if they had a republic. Catherine calls William “My nervous future king”, pressuring him to confront his father; that by doing nothing, he risks the future of their children and grandchildren: “they all look to you insisting you defend the Crown against this fool’s indulgence”. She suggests he find some kind of “lever” with which to force the King’s hand.

That night, William sees his mother’s ghost, who foretells that he will be the greatest king of all.

Prince Harry goes into the local kebab place where the cook complains to him that everything has fallen apart since the Queen died; people don’t know what Britain is any more. He compares it to the meat going around his cone-shaped vertical rotisserie: “Like this meat here, it’s not one thing, different pieces, different slices collected around one core piece of steel but you take that away, it all falls apart. Maybe she is what held it all together.”

Camilla and William’s family sit at breakfast watching the Power of the Crown debate on television. William asks where his father is and Camilla tells him he’s upstairs and not to be disturbed.

Just as the House is about to vote, King Charles storms into the chamber in full military dress and, using his power of royal prerogative, dissolves parliament. Catherine, distressed, leaves the breakfast table, going out onto the balcony to have a cigarette, whispering to herself, “Cry havoc.”

People are now rioting in the streets, including Jessica’s friends, and burning effigies of the King. Prince Harry, to remain incognito, wears a Guy Fawkes mask and discovers Jessica in the street observing the chaos. She shows him the newspaper with the compromising photographs of her but he doesn’t care about it and just wants to leave the royal family and live with her as a commoner.

The King orders military protection for Buckingham Palace and a tank is positioned behind the main gate facing the angry crowd.

The Prime Minister arrives for an informal meeting with William and Catherine and argues that, with parliament dissolved, William remains the only one who can stop the unrest, otherwise it could be the end of the monarchy. William tells the Prime Minister to return to Number 10 and that he will face his father.

Reiss tells King Charles that it is urgent he hold a press conference immediately. William and Catherine, with Reiss’s approval, meet the King at the microphone, to join him in an apparent show of family solidarity, but before Charles can speak, William, nodding to Reiss, steps in front of his father and commandeers the microphone. William announces that from now on, he will mediate between the King and the House of Commons. He tells the gathered press members that he has his father’s blessing, but it is clear that Reiss and William have colluded. William thanks Catherine publicly, declaring, “All of this was actually her idea. She’ll sort us out.’

Outside in the corridor, King Charles tells Reiss that, after this “treachery”, he won’t be working for him any longer but Reiss has already been offered a job by William.

Under William’s orders, the tank and the soldiers are removed from Buckingham Palace. He meets with the King and angrily rebukes him for initiating this public unrest and for his mistreatment of, and disloyalty to, his mother, Diana, while she was alive. He proposes that his father now abdicate and let him and Catherine be crowned at the forthcoming coronation.

The Prime Minister arrives with an official abdication document for the King to sign but Charles refuses, showing it to Camilla, who walks over and slaps William. Catherine grabs the document and shoves it in front of the King, demanding he sign it. Harry arrives, throwing his support behind William, and the two brothers tell their father that if he doesn’t abdicate, they will leave, take the grandchildren with them, and he will never see any of them again. Charles can’t bear the thought of living alone so he signs the abdication document. William, Catherine and Harry also sign and it is done.

On Coronation Day, Jessica arrives to attend the ceremony but is refused admittance. Harry has removed her name from the invitation list on the request of William and Catherine, who have asked him to break off his relationship with her. He has agreed to do this and Jessica leaves in disgust and hurt.

During the coronation ceremony, the Archbishop of Canterbury crowns Catherine but as he is about to place the crown on William’s head, Charles steps forward, wrenching it away from him and puts it on his son’s head himself, saying, “God save you.”

An extraordinary number of British film actors, actresses and directors have extensive credentials in live theatre, which is probably one reason why British films, especially those of the BBC, are so deeply dramatic. Many of the stars of King Charles III first appeared in the stage version, both in the West End and on Broadway.

Writer Mike Bartlett adapted the screenplay for the movie from his play, which won the Critics’ Circle Award for Best Play of 2014. Rupert Goold is an English theatre director with an illustrious career in directing for the stage, especially the works of Shakespeare. Composer Jocelyn Pook wrote the music for the stage version of King Charles III and won a BAFTA for the film score.

Tim Pigott-Smith, who played King Charles, was an English actor best known for the series The Jewel in the Crown, for which he won the British Academy Television Award for Best Actor in 1985.

King Charles III takes many liberties with the way it attempts to “predict” a possible future for the royal family. Prince Charles might choose another name when he is king, as many have done before him. He could be King George, King Philip or even King Arthur. Camilla might not be referred to as Queen Camilla at all but could adopt the title Princess Consort.

Prince Harry married Meghan Markle in 2018 and her mother, Doria Ragland, is African-American. The character of Jessica Edwards foretold this relationship; the play was written in 2014, and Harry met Markle in 2016.

Paul Burrell reviewed King Charles III for the Mirror. Burrell was the Queen’s footman for eleven years and Princess Diana’s butler. He said:

I was amused to see Prince Charles, played by the late Tim Pigott-Smith, stomping up and down petulantly and throwing a book across the room at the Prime Minister, as I once had to dodge a book at Highgrove because I had spoken with the Princess the night before about a personal matter. He picked the book up, said, “You bloody idiot!”, and threw it at me. I managed to dodge it.

Burrell didn’t think the royal family would watch King Charles III or even read about it. He added, “It will be as if it never happened.” He doesn’t believe the Queen watched The Queen, in which she was played by Helen Mirren. He said: “It’s unfair to portray Kate as a Machiavellian, scheming madam only thinking of herself. She is softer, she has William’s back and William’s best interests in mind—but she is not scheming.” But he was happy to see Diana’s ghost appear: “She will always haunt the House of Windsor.”

Jasper Rees of the Daily Telegraph wrote, “Pure televisual gelignite … Bartlett’s supremely supple ear filtered the story through digestible blank verse, meshing cod-Bard and street demotic.”

Cod-bard is the key image here. That’s precisely what I thought every time the ghost appeared and Catherine put her figurative knee on William’s neck. But it is an insult to cod. Perhaps a bottom-feeding carp would be a more appropriate metaphor.

For instance, in Diana’s two identical “mirror-mirror-on-the-wall” short monologues, she first tells Charles:

You think I didn’t love you.

It’s not true.

An indecisive man, and oh so sad,

will be the greatest King we ever had.

And later, she tells William:

William, you’re now the man

I never lived to see. Such pain my son,

such heart, but now be glad,

you’ll be the greatest King we ever had.

Not only is this babble an insult to the real Diana’s memory, it’s not even poetry, it’s cliché. Dr Seuss wrote more memorable couplets for The Cat in the Hat. Yet Stage magazine said: “Bartlett’s brilliant text pulses with Shakespearean resonances … a right royal triumph.”

Political sensitivity in the 1600s prevented Shakespeare, in Henry VIII, from mentioning the beheading of the mother of Queen Elizabeth I, Anne Boleyn, or of King Henry’s next four wives Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, Catherine Howard and Catherine Parr. The Licensing Act of 1737 also forbade the portrayal of a British sovereign on stage until a hundred years after accession.

In King Charles III all of the male characters are cowardly, lacking integrity, and every female character is a distortion. King Charles has high ideals but is inept at realising them and demonstrating leadership qualities. William and Harry are both selfish two-faced liars. William’s blackmailing of his father by threatening to prevent him from seeing his grandchildren is lower than low. In another time, that would have earned him a suite in the Tower. James Reiss is a disloyal and mercantile salesman—much like many PR guys I’ve met—and Prime Minister Evans is pretty much everything we hate about bad prime ministers; the royal family is just an obstacle to their ambition.

The women characters are even worse than the men. Diana manifests as a ghost of poor scripting and non-existent acting. Jessica is a caricature of the bull-headed far-Left activist (if such a thing is possible). She plays with Harry’s affections until he’s hooked on her and then when he drops her, she cries victim. Camilla, except for slapping William (which I liked, but she should have also put Catherine in a headlock), usually just stares with poodle-eyes at Charles.

And what can be said about Catherine, the most unattractive and unendearing character I have seen in a long time? Her CEO-tinged Duchess of Cambridge even trumps the cringe-worthy portrayal of Jacqueline Kennedy in The Crown. I don’t mind her smoking—I like Real Housewives of Buckingham Palace moments—but the way she stands over William and Charles is gruesome.

The director Rupert Goold was awarded a CBE in 2017. He told the Radio Times, “Even with the stage version [of King Charles III], we’d been through long conversations with lawyers and certain actors refusing to be involved because of how it might affect their future relationship with the honours system.” Good thing he got his in advance.

Fearing that his bones would be dug up by relic-hunters (and future cod-bardists), Shakespeare had the foresight to write his own epitaph for his gravestone:

Good friend for Jesus sake forbear,

To dig the dust enclosed here.

Blessed be the man that spares these stones,

And cursed be he that moves my bones.

The vertical rotisserie that shawarma and kebabs are grilled on is called a trompo, or “spinning top”, as the shape of the meat is flat at the top and tapers down. The cook, or “pastorero”, at the kebab shop Prince Harry visits compares Queen Elizabeth and British society to his trompo. There is an art to layering this kind of meat cone, and a Spanish pastorero once said, “All you need is pork, pineapple and confidence.” Sounds like the film.

Trompo rotisseries can be expensive but I saw a comment under an ad for one that said, “I was going to buy [it] until I saw the price. A $4 Kmart Bundt cake tin and skewer in a spud works a treat.” In a spudskin, that sums up my opinion on how seriously you should take this entertaining, but ultimately unpoetic and disempowering, view of the royals.

God help us.