Tom Scutt’s beautiful set is an Essex cornfield with the skeleton of an old tree which appears dead, having been struck by lightning.  Everyone goes to the wedding wearing flowers in their hair.  The performances from the women are memorable, Siena Kelly as Anna pretty, attractive and vital but ultimately vulnerable, Liv Hill’s Jane in an unhappy doomed marriage and Mariella, a magnificent Tanya Reynolds, in a profession which even today is fraught with blame and accusation.  The male actors are stereotypes to illustrate a promiscuous, violent man and a feckless one who has broken promises.  Lyndsey Turner is flawless as a skilled and naturalistic director.

I think Ava Pickett is asking us to reflect on how little has changed for modern day women at the mercy of men writing their history with toxicity towards women.  She is probably thinking of young men seduced by the vicious outpouring of the influencer Andrew Tate against feminism.  What this play is not, is an examination of Anne Boleyn, nor a story about the courtly women depicted on the cover of the theatre programme.  I don’t feel 1536 is as important a play, as the early critics found at the Almeida a year ago.