Historical dramas are usually a safe bet. All the better if they look at a lesser-known figure, as John Ransom Phillips does in his play about Mary Todd Lincoln. There should be plenty to learn, insight to gain and lots of atmosphere to enjoy. Not here, I fear. Although director Bronagh Lagan injects energy into this confusing script, the piece falls so far short of its ambition that it feels a particular disappointment.
The first problem is that a lot of audience knowledge about the subject is assumed. Yes, there’s the irony that the success of Oh Mary! (which does not pretend accuracy) has increased knowledge about Lincoln’s wife. But you need to check Wikipedia before seeing Mrs President and that’s never a good thing. The action is a muddle, held together mostly by the excellent lighting design. There is a risk of learning little about Mary Todd Lincoln.
Instead, as the setting of a photographic portrait studio makes clear, we are looking at Todd Lincoln’s image as much as her life. Fair enough – that’s an interesting subject, too. But Phillips’ version of photographer Mathew Brady is a strange one. It isn’t so much the odd qualification of his poor eyesight (which needs elaborating on). Or that his skipping around and slipping into other characters is clumsy, despite the efforts of Hal Fowler, who takes the role. The problem is the photographer’s omnipotence. He never questions how important he and his pictures are. In fact, he is rather a bore about it.
Mary shares this image-obsessed conviction. It’s no surprise that she isn’t happy with her portrait sittings, as each one relives a trauma for her (not great customer service on Brady’s part). Broadway star Keala Settle takes the title role, and getting to see her in London is a thrill. But there is little Settle can do with such a hampering structure. This character doesn’t develop – things just happen to her. Emotional moments shock (at least screams woke some people up), but they do not move.
It’s nice to see Mary stand up to Matthew and, to be fair, she does that from the start. But the conflict between them doesn’t go anywhere and gets tiresome quickly. For a lot of the time, Todd Lincoln and Brady aren’t talking to each other, instead addressing themselves or the audience. This doesn’t make the action easy to follow. But the big problem is that both characters are lecturing. The dialogue is dire: a mix of semiacademic ideas about representation and identity that are not new and are nearly all superficial or nonsensical. Grandiosity is aimed for, with big ideas and performances. The misplaced ambition can be forgiven, but not how dull it is.
Until 8 March 2026
Photo by Pamela Raith