By William Shakespeare. Directed by Christopher Weddell. A Bard on the Beach production. At the Studio Stage in Vanier Park on Saturday, July 11. Continues until September 18

In this strong Bard on the Beach production, Richard II reveals itself as a moving and insightful play about narcissism and moral ambiguity. Make no mistake, though: this talky script is hard to get a handle on. Who are the good guys and bad guys, for God's sake, and why don't we ever get to see anybody do anything?

Near the beginning, the self-indulgent King Richard II banishes his cousin Henry Bolingbroke from England, partly because he fears Bolingbroke's popularity with the people. When Bolingbroke's father dies, Richard usurps his inheritance so that he can fund a military campaign. Bolingbroke returns with an army, claiming his rights as an heir, and virtually all of Richard's supporters defect to Bolingbroke's camp. When the rebel becomes King Henry IV, you've got to wonder if that was his crafty plan all along. As his fortunes wane, Richard becomes vastly more sympathetic. He speaks so movingly about his divine right as king—which is, on one level, his right to a personal identity and the loyalty of those close to him—that you feel for the guy. But the play's moral and political terrain is complex, and sometimes undefined, so it's easy to lose focus.

The verbiage doesn't help. There's a lot of flowery speech that boils down to “You'll never guess what just happened off-stage.”

But there are two passages—transcendent in this mounting—that offer clear access to the heart of the script. In the first, Richard delivers a rumination on mortality to his few remaining courtiers. In the second, he is imprisoned and entirely alone. In both speeches, Richard desperately tries to articulate his identity, but he can't do that successfully, because he is so lost within himself. Indulged and self-indulgent as a monarch, he doesn't know how to take others into account. Faced with adversity, he struggles for stability but lacks the tools to achieve it.

Weddell's staging of the prison speech is stunning in its simplicity. Barefoot, Richard stands centre stage in an off-white prison tunic. Alan Brodie's lighting casts stark shadows of diamond-shaped bars.

Throughout, Haig Sutherland's performance as Richard is masterful. His Richard is smart, sensitive—and straining for understanding. I particularly appreciated the dignity and sorrow that Duncan Fraser brings to John of Gaunt, Bolingbroke's aged father. And Celine Stubel makes painful sense of Queen Isabel's love for her husband, Richard.

As Bolingbroke, John Murphy feels like a boy trying to imitate a man. He postures and bellows, but I bought very little of it.

You've got to work at Richard II, but it's worth it.