Henry VIII – review

Of the Globe to Globe festival's 37 international interpretations of Shakespeare, this version of Henry VIII by the Madrid-based Rakatá company is one of the most resonant. Henry's abandonment of Catherine of Aragon after 20 years of marriage in favour of a younger model, Anne Boleyn, infuriated the Spanish in 1533; this superb production, performed in Castilian Spanish, felt like a reframing of the story from the Spanish side, even if the action never strayed from the English court.

Though a relatively young company, formed in 2002, Rakatá have made a name for themselves with their fresh approach to the classics of the Spanish Golden Age. Here, their experience showed. After a slightly shaky start, in which the Chorus appeared in grey shirts and trousers looking disconcertingly like off-duty estate agents, and Catherine (Elena González) struggled to project, the show quickly coalesced into a supremely accomplished retelling of this most notorious episode in English history.

At the play's centre, naturally, is the character of Henry, the man whose indefatigable appetites would lead England to its rupture with the Catholic Church. As Henry, Fernando Gil was brilliantly cast: towering over the other actors, conveying all the king's youthful swagger and charm, he was so convincing in the role that when he left the stage to walk among the groundlings, the crowd parted for him as they might once have done for Henry himself.

Henry's attraction to Anne Boleyn (the excellent Sara Moraleda) was also beautifully portrayed: their first meeting came in a sensual, balletic pas de deux – one of several dance scenes, accompanied by an organist, that brought the Tudor court vividly to life. Such lovely detail filled the production – we saw the chilling reenactment of Buckingham's beheading on stage (several audience members gasped as his severed head was held aloft by the hooded executioner); and the baptism of the infant Elizabeth, Henry and Anne resplendent in gold robes and crowns, while the poor, abandoned Catherine ran between them, barefoot and raving.

Here, González really came into her own, putting across all the quiet desperation of a wife far from home (Catherine's longing for her Spanish homeland acquired a special significance), abandoned by her husband. Catherine's death, after which she was covered tenderly by Henry with a shroud, was heartbreaking – a fitting finale to an involving production in which the personal was just as compelling as the political.