“As in the two earlier plays in the cycle, The Last Wife and The Virgin Trial, Hennig’s use of colloquial language brings Tudor history delightfully down to earth. Sometimes she overdoes it. Calling children “kids” is one thing, but hearing the expression “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge” sounds silly in any context.

The actors, however, fully inhabit their characters. Taylor makes her journey from unlikely monarch to hard realist convincing and sympathetic, while Poole is sizzling as Catalina – an idea emphasized by Kimberly Purtell’s lighting and Debashis Sinha’s sound design.”

“Guided by the sure hand of director Alan Dilworth and crowned with a superlative performance by Shannon Taylor as Mary, Mother’s Daughter is a gripping examination of how cruelty is inevitably a part of power….

In spite of Hennig’s modern approach, Mother’s Daughter turns out to be a reinvention of the form of medieval drama known as a psychomachia in which various allegorical vices and virtues battle for control of the protagonist. The question that grips us throughout the action is whether Mary’s intention to be fair and merciful can hold out against the internal and external forces urging her to to be selfish and merciless.”

“Mother’s Daughter is told from Mary’s perspective, and that’s immediately clear when Taylor enters the stage in a crisp white blouse and a luxurious cream floral skirt, and Bess is the one in black, the threat that’s constantly plotting in the shadows. Designer Lorenzo Savoini’s costumes are important indicators in Mary’s struggle as England’s ruler — a desire to maintain the country’s expectations of women, while also adopting a masculine militaristic attitude, and finally, donning the black dress of a guilty conscience.”

“Taylor’s Mary and Jessica B. Hill’s Bess are beautifully etched as politically astute figures, keenly aware of the national ramifications of their often poorly concealed battle for supremacy alongside far-reaching consequences beyond British boundaries into Spain, France and throughout Europe.

Both are volatile, prone to explosive displays and aware of the changing facets of warfare, essentially no better or worse than their male counterparts. Cruelty is often a major component with respect to their adherence to political expediency, such as Mary’s handling of illegitimate cousin Jane Grey, played with tragically appealing innocence by Andrea Rankin.

Yet, in accordance with Hennig’s goals, they grasp in a surprisingly balanced fashion an almost humanitarian aspect of leadership. Historically, Bess has been deified while Mary is always vilified. Yet here there are clear signs they are real human being rather than being merely archetypal power-hungry figures.”

“Procrastinating from decision-making while being goaded on by apparitions turns Mary into a Hamlet figure. Her inconsistent acknowledgment of these ghosts as figments of her imagination makes these scenes a bit dramatically muddy, however. Are we watching Mary argue with herself? Or are they really communicating from beyond the grave?

I initially found it hard to shift from the slacker Mary incarnated by Sara Farb in the previous two instalments of Hennig’s trilogy to Taylor’s starchier Mary, a move from sarcastic to self-conscious, aloof to emotional. (Farb is now in the Harry Potter plays on Broadway.)

By the second act, however, Taylor had fully made Mary her own…”