The Black Box Theatre of Moline, Illinois, as the name implies, is a simple theater space. That didn’t hold back its recent production of The Lion in Winter, which closed the company’s 2025 season with a slow-burning play that uses the intimacy of its space to ratchet up the intensity of its production of James Goldman’s classic “holiday” drama.
For some, spending time with family during the holidays isn’t always a pleasant experience. Most of us have a fussy family member that — whether through political declarations, nitpicking over appearances or questioning life paths and expectations — makes us wince. Fortunately for all of us, we aren’t the family of King Henry in 1183.
The Lion In Winter is the story of a royal family getting together for Christmas. England’s King Henry, his wife Elanor and his sons Richard, Geoffrey and John are joined by King Phillip of France and Henry’s mistress, Alais — the sister of Philip and the adopted chid of Elanor, who is betrothed to John, or maybe Richard. The introduction of the characters is messy enough in this historical fiction, but besides a bizarre, incestuous love quadrangle, there is naturally the scheming and mind games of an aging king in want of an heir to his throne and the division of lands and power that come with such messy encounters. (Fun fact: the producers of the Terrence Howard-led Fox series Empire listed The Lion in Winter as a strong influence.)
The story unfolds through these characters’ often conniving interactions, dripping with humorous melodrama, razor-sharp barbs, and the convoluted machinations of Middle Ages decorum. The result is a story that is equal parts Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Game of Thrones with the wit of Moliere. It is as uncomfortable and messy as any family reunion could possibly be, but also very funny.
As the Black Box is a traditional black box space, the design of the show is sparse, but with writing and production this good, there is no need for elaborate set pieces. The warm tones of lights by Jennifer Kingry, when paired with Lora Adams’s set and costume design, handily transport the audience to Henry’s castle in Chinon, France. A tapestry and fireplace representing a common room adorned with a Christmas tree and holly are easily pulled aside to reveal the jail bars and hay bales of a dungeon. Alexander Richardson’s sound design of Middle Ages choral tunes enhances the festive (?) spirit and place in time.
Sparse the setting may be, this play unfurls through the dialogue. At first, I felt underwhelmed by the performances as they settled into the embellished recitation that often plagues contemporary productions of period pieces like Shakespeare, but this — like so many promises and agreements from the characters — was a ruse. Jeremy Mahr’s King Henry leads the cast, applying the reserved grace of regality in equal measure to the emotional crescendos of a broken family. His King Henry is untrusting and plotting with every word. Likewise, Lora Adams plays Queen Elanor with a quiet fury, flipping between manipulative kindness, despair and moments of matronly warmth.
Alais, played by Kassidy Holdridge, is a tragic ingenue, longing for the love of Henry, while torn for her admiration for Elanor and being passed around, dowry in tow, like a pawn from potential husbands Richard and John while maintaining sympathy for her brother, King Philip. For all the deceit and scheming amongst the rest of the characters, Holdridge has the distinction of playing the most honest character, the straight man in a comedy of royal nepotism, which she does gracefully, even if Alais isn’t without some clever manipulations of her own. Likewise, Thayne Lamb’s King Phillip seems, at first, singularly minded in his ambitions, but in spite of the young king’s presumed naivety, Phillip is just as sharp and cruel as the rest of the crew.
Prince’s Richard (Matt Walsh), Geoffrey (Tyler Henning) and John (Jacob Lund) each have their own ambitions, seeking their father’s approval, or at least submission, to gain their own favor for succession. Walsh carries the air of Richard’s battle-worn wisdom and brashness with confidence. Lund gives the most expressive performance as the youngest child, rife with teenage emotions, self-doubt and dramatics, while Henning walks the fine line between the two, nailing the disposition of a middle child.
Director Noah Hill wrangled the calamitous dialogue of the script into performances that blossomed like nightshade, striking with poisonous intent, and though this was regrettably my first visit to The Black Box Theatre and my first experience with The Lion In Winter, the show contained all of the dark humor and dramatics I could have hoped for, making for a deeply satisfying theater experience that I would happily repeat. I’ll be looking forward to the announcement of The Black Box Theatre’s 2026 season, because they are clearly proving that less is more.
