MET’s Mary Stuart examines England’s most notorious cousinly rift

Fans of Good Queen Bess, take note: The play Mary Stuart, onstage at Metropolitan Ensemble Theatre, leans in favor of the titular monarch. An early clue, in addition to the play’s title, is the bagpipe music playing in the background.

You needn’t be an expert in Tudor history and its complexities to appreciate this absorbing play about the royal rivalry between Queen Elizabeth I of England (Cheryl Weaver) and Mary, Queen of Scots (Karen Paisley, who also co-directs with Trevor Belt). Peter Oswald’s script, adapted from German dramatist Friedrich Schiller’s 1800 original, is an eloquently written piece, with intelligent dialogue that sings with a melody more harmonious than bagpipes.

The finely honed drama centers on a short period in these cousins’ relationship, with the action propelled by both fact and fiction. It sent this longtime acolyte of all things Tudor back to shelved biographies (I wasn’t alone the next day, if an overheard audience member stayed true to plans), but Mary Stuart doesn’t require homework; its prose alone is enough to grip you in its telling of the events surrounding a dangerous conflict between royal heads of state.

When the play opens, in February 1587, Mary is a prisoner, under the guard of Sir Amias Paulet (an excellent Andy Penn) at Fotheringhay Castle. She has been held in England for years after seeking refuge from her own political troubles in Scotland. But what to do about her? Elizabeth faces a “monstrous dilemma”: regicide — a scandal in itself — or reigning “in fear.”

The threat was real. As the granddaughter of King Henry VIII’s older sister, Mary Stuart could make a claim to the English throne. (Her son, James, eventually succeeded the childless Elizabeth in 1603.) And as a Catholic, Mary could rally those who viewed Elizabeth’s Protestant reign as illegitimate. In fact, the name Anne Boleyn even gets an unfortunate mention here by Mary.

This fictional rendering of events, taking place over the three final days of Mary’s life, nearly martyrs the Scottish queen as a victim of the royal court’s machinations and the “queen of deceit.” As shown here, it’s as much about ego and envy as it is about mortal threat: Mary’s sense of her rightful place versus Elizabeth’s jealousy of Mary’s beauty. “The world rules with its eyes,” the Virgin Queen says. As depicted here, Mary’s was an allure that drove men to forgive her crimes (including her possible role in the death of her second husband).

Weaver’s Elizabeth can be a coquettish flirt, who’s also subject to envy, and a hard-minded and sometimes vengeful ruler. The performance fascinates by forcing us to wonder which aspect of the queen’s nature truly dominates her decisions. The able and attractive Karen Paisley makes a fitting, regal Mary. She’s fiery in a scene opposite Elizabeth at the start of Act 2 — in real life, the two never met — and lends a calming, Zen-like presence near the end. But her portrayal is sometimes stiff and without nuance.

Many characters populate this story, and the supporting cast assembled here does fine work. As Lord Burleigh, Elizabeth’s trusted aide and adviser, Robert Gibby Brand himself nearly rules here with a forceful and fine-tuned portrayal. And as the Earl of Leicester, Elizabeth’s favored adviser and confidant, Bob Paisley skillfully equivocates in his nimble depiction of a man possibly torn between two allegiances.

Other standouts include Seth Jones as the fictional Mortimer (nephew of the loyal Amias), who harbors both a passion for Mary, the “queen of heaven,” and an ardent devotion to the Catholic cause. Alan Tilson is heartfelt as the Earl of Shrewsbury, loyal to Elizabeth but sympathetic to Mary. And Donovan Kidd captivates as undersecretary Sir William Davison, giving off palpable anxiety over the queen’s vague instructions about the “hotter than fire” warrant for Mary’s execution.

The stark, spacious set, looking like an industrial loft with steel towers and wooden props, allows us to envision the settings, which shift between Mary’s confines at Fotheringhay Castle and Elizabeth’s Whitehall Palace (set design by Karen Paisley). Set changes are fairly quick and choreographed, yet they still stall the story’s momentum. It’s a long play at three hours, but an engrossing one. The slower, 90-minute Act 1 gives way to a riveting Act 2, during which minutes pass unnoticed in the intense goings-on of this story’s resolution.

It’s a culmination that an Elizabeth enthusiast might disagree with. Then again, who can know what ultimately informs the minds of even the best-advised leaders? But as art, Mary Stuart stirs, and stands on its own merits.