In penning King Richard III, William Shakespeare amalgamated his text from a variety of historical records and legends, creating a dramatically heightened play and giving Richard, his villainous antihero, intense political, psychological, and metaphysical dimensions. In shifting the play from the medium of the theatre to that of the cinema, Laurence Olivier is able to further advance King Richard III's impact by his directorial exploitation of the camera; Olivier gives added emphasis to Shakespeare's vision of the machiavellian duke as a consummate role-player. Olivier's Richard so well manipulates those around him, that if we, the audience, were not intimate confidants to his ambition (a relationship established by way of direct-address shots), we would be as duped as his victims into believing him a pious devotee, an infatuated suitor, and a doting uncle.

While Richard is indeed the uncle, as well as the regent for the young Princes, he is not the jovial caretaker that he so cunningly artifices. In the scene where the two Princes, now ennobled as the new King and the Duke of York by the death of their father, are reunited, Olivier embellishes Shakespeare's portrayal of Richard's protean skill. While Shakespeare's characterization continually reminds the reader of Richard's bloodthirsty plot, Olivier's Richard so convincingly feigns affection for his nephews, that we, the viewers, nearly forget his homicidal intentions. The answer given to the young Duke of York's request for his uncle's dagger: "My dagger, little cousin? With all my heart." (3.1.111) has far more ominous undertones in Shakespeare: Richard would, with all his heart, love to give his nephew a dagger- right in the belly. Olivier's Shakespeare, however, presents his answer as would an indulgent relative, seemingly offering his love in addition to the material gift. Olivier's portrayal is an effective one for accentuating Richard's chameleon capability; when his true character, one so antithetical to that of a devoted kinsman, is revealed by young York, the shift is so striking as to have a powerful disquieting effect on both those assembled in the throne room and the cinematic audience.

Throughout the majority of the scene, Olivier's Richard is able to persuasively feign the role of caring uncle and responsible guardian. Indeed, nothing seems amiss in the throne room as Richard affectionately greets his young nephew, the Duke of York. The youth scampers, giggling, to his uncle, who proceeds to lift the boy and spin him round and round, much to the delight of all observers. Despite our knowledge concerning the tragic fates of the two princes, Olivier manages to allay our fears with his adept use of deep-focus composition; all seems right in the throne room. Richard's jubilant play with young York, and much of the subsequent action of the scene is framed by the young Edward in the foreground; the legitimate king is ensconced on his throne, presiding over his court. We and the throne room assembly watch with pleasure as Richard pledges his allegiance to both of the young princes and good-naturedly banters with young York. Whereas Shakespeare, as mentioned before, gave young York's request for his uncle's dagger an ominous twist, so too, might a reader interpret Richard's suggestion of "A greater gift" (3.1.115) with suspicion, assuming this gift to be voyages to Heaven for his nephews. However, Olivier's blocking suggests nothing so perilous; to the amusement of all observers, Richard delivers the line while resting his hand on his scabbard, tantalizing young York with the idea of such a grand present. Perhaps the only harm that comes from such an action is the disappointment of young York.

However, Richard never disappoints himself; he revels in his polymorphous genius, challenging himself, in his pride, to perform his roles to a point just shy of giving himself away. Through subtle signs, he belies his virtuous persona by hinting at his aspiration for the throne. Although Richard swears that his nephew, as the realm's new King, "may command me as my sovereign" (3.1.108), his actions negate this humble oath; Richard delivers the line while simultaneously planting his foot upon the dais, a gesture establishing his tyrannical claim to the throne. His costuming too, exposes his ambitious aims; the hue of Richard's attire matches the crimson tint of the young King's. However, Richard has given this designation of royalty his own evil twist; by coupling the red with an ebon vest, he vividly portrays how his malignant character will eclipse all righteousness associated with the throne. Yet, it is not this comic hubris which causes Richard's true disposition to be divulged.

Richard's desire to be rid of his nephews is not solely for the reason that they stand as obstacles in his path to the crown, as fools and children speak the truth, they threaten to, and young York eventually does, reveal his true nature. Referring to an earlier conversation, young York asks his uncle whether his newly crowned brother is idle, a vice which would explain his recent growth spurt. Of course, Richard must vehemently deny his declaration that "idle weeds are fast in growth" (3.1.104), it would not look well for him to be calling his new sovereign useless, even though it is Richard's intent to make both boys so ineffectual. Not only must Richard disclaim his statement regarding the young King's inadequacy, but he must counter it with vows of obligation to both his nephews, a humiliating vocalization of his lesser status.

Yet this humiliation is nothing in comparison to that which later comes from young York, and it is this second mortification which causes Richard to manifest his true colors. Playing on the young King's advice to Richard to "bear with" (3.1.127) the annoying precociousness of his younger brother, young York gives his brother's words a derogatory turn in order to avenge himself against the mockeries of his uncle. Young York corrects his older brother: "You mean to bear me, not to bear with me" (3.1.128), alluding to Richard's hunchback, which is compared to the saddle worn by bears or Fools, to carry monkeys about at carnivals and fairs. Olivier gives an additional visual image to Shakespeare's textual one: the scene becomes a bearbaiting, with Richard unwittingly assuming the role of the bear. The throne room becomes an arena in which Richard and young York provide the entertainment for the encircling spectators: the King, the throne room assembly, and cinematic audience. Young York paces around his uncle before attacking Richard's Achilles'' heel: his physical deformity. Up until this point, the scene has been one long, uninterrupted take; however, at the delivery of "He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders!" (3.1.131) there is an abrupt cut to a medium close-up of young York, shot off center to accommodate his outstretched arm and harshly pointing finger. We see from his mischievous smile and twinkling eyes that the jibe has all been in good fun, but another sudden cut to an over-the-shoulder medium close-up of Richard, shows that he does not take it so lightly; this reference to his deformity is Richard's undoing, and he instantaneously falls out of character. The shot begins with by focusing on Richard's back, emphasizing his hump. The lack of any previous extraneous sound in the scene is here counterbalanced, as with a sharp crack, indicative of a break in Richard's feigned temperament, and an inharmonious composition of brass and strings, he turns to glare over his shoulder at his nephew. The shot is angled up from below young York, creating an effect whereby Richard ominously towers over his young victim. Indeed, our former amusement is lost as we recall that young York and his brother will soon be counted among Richard's casualties. The lighting especially indicates Richard as a Death-figure, our view of him from beneath frames him in the shadows of the room, creates a hood of his hair, and shadows his eyes, transforming them into empty sockets in his skull-like pasty face. Young York quickly backs out of the claustrophobic frame, asserting Richard's spatial autonomy over his world.

The threatening shot of Richard cuts to a montage which depicts the stunned silence of unease with which the assembly meets this tyrannical representation of Richard. This montage begins with a shot of young York, placed in a position of vulnerability by a medium close-up from above. The camera follows him as he continues to cautiously back away from the grim visage of his uncle and into the arms of his older brother. The two young boys, alone in the shot and dwarfed by the throne, stand as sheep ready for slaughter. The camera then jumps to a shot of three men, staring stupidly at the off-screen figure of Richard who has manifested his true self before them. The camera then jumps to a shot of the Cardinal, Buckingham, and two others, likewise unnerved by the off-screen devil of Richard. All in the shot, save Buckingham, slowly turn their backs to Richard, foreshadowing the abandonment of him that will take place once he has usurped the throne and plays the chameleon no longer.
From this same shot, Buckingham steps from among the others and the camera pans out as he makes his way to the two boys cowering on the throne. While this is the beginning of another long take, we are not subject to the same sense of decorum, as in the long take at the beginning of the scene. Buckingham tries to recover the previous lighthearted atmosphere, but he only serves to augment the present, troubled one. His lauding of young York's wit ending with: "So cunning and so young is wonderful!" (3.1.135) does not seem to appease any in attendance, and it is especially disturbing for us viewer, as we have been privy to a previous aside from Richard in which he quips, "so wise so young, they say, do never live long" (3.1.79). The change in blocking also has a significant effect on the scene, although the camera shot is from nearly the same angle as it was in the previous long take; Richard's control of the cinema frame, which began when young York fled from his uncle's monstrous visage, continues. Richard, and no longer the young King, occupies the foreground and, as he does throughout the movie, presides with manipulative power over events. Richard, apparently recovered from his momentary lapse of constitution, once again assumes the role of his nephew's doting kinsman. However he is not as convincing now, after his degeneration; when Richard steps from the shadows to escort the young King from the dais and to the Tower, we can only understand the gesture as a symbolic elimination, Richard has rid himself of another impediment to his rise to power.

Indeed, in the remainder of the scene, prior to the boys' exit, we are overwhelmingly struck by a sense of impending doom. The young King tragically places his trust in his machiavellian "Lord Protector" (3.1.141) to the melancholy lamentations of a violin chorus. The soundtrack, noticeably absent during the rest of the scene, is here used to play upon our emotions. Young York's mention of his fear of the Tower, which houses the murdered Clarence's ghost, is developed by a threatening cello solo; the Tower is undoubtedly a terrible place. Richard's hope that his nephews fear no living uncle is backgrounded by a nervous tempo change. The music then proceeds to slow and soften, enhancing our sense of the pathetic, as the young King delivers his final lines before leaving for the Tower and his certain death. The two cherubic boys, seemingly leading their own funeral procession, recess out of the throne room to a haunting dirge coupled with the ominous rolling of what can be interpreted as executioners' drums.

Olivier brings to life Shakespeare's vision of Richard as a manipulative genius. We, the cinematic viewers understand the ease with which many become victim to his consummate role-playing, for we too, despite our ambivalent relationship with him, are seduced by Richard's power. However, as evidenced in this scene, Richard's chameleon cunning seems to be the only quality for which we condone his diabolical doings; Richard, in the absence of parody, is nothing more than a detestable tyrant.

(c) 1999 by the author. All rights reserved.