Review: By Royal Appointment at The Lowry

Wednesday 13 August

By Royal Appointment at The Lowry

A review for MIX56 by Phil Roberts

Look, if you’re going to put Anne Reid and Caroline Quentin on the same stage, you’ve already got my attention. But does By Royal Appointment actually deliver, or are we just here for the star power?

Here’s the thing about Daisy Goodwin’s play—it’s sneakily brilliant in the most unassuming way possible. While everyone else is making royal dramas full of affairs and scandals, Goodwin’s taken a completely different route.

She’s asking: what if the most interesting relationship in the Palace wasn’t romantic at all, but between a Queen and the woman who dresses her?

The promotional soudbite was almost boring until you really think about it.

We’re watching Queen Elizabeth II’s entire reign unfold through her wardrobe choices. Every hat, every handbag, every carefully chosen color becomes a political statement, a diplomatic tool, a shield against the world.

And here’s where it gets provocative—the play suggests that maybe the Queen’s real voice wasn’t in her speeches at all, but sewn into every stitch she wore.

Anne Reid doesn’t do impersonation here, and thank God for that. Image credit: Lowry Theatre.

We’ve all seen enough wobbly Queen impressions to last a lifetime. Instead, she gives us something far more unsettling: a human being trapped inside an institution, communicating through fabric because words belong to her speechwriters, not to her.

The moment that got me? When she reflects on sitting alone at Philip’s funeral, separated by COVID protocols that made even grief a public performance. “Fun?” Reid’s Queen asks with that perfectly timed pause. “We are not here to have fun. We are here to serve.”

Brutal. Absolutely brutal.

Caroline Quentin, meanwhile, is having the time of her life as the dresser who knows where all the bodies are buried—metaphorically speaking.

Her character is fierce, funny, and completely unimpressed by royalty in the way only someone who’s seen you in your underwear can be.

When she finally unleashes that monologue near the end, full of decades of pent-up frustration, you realize she’s been the real power behind the throne all along.

The supporting cast adds the right amount of theatrical camp—James Dreyfus practically sparkles as The Milliner (though some might find him a bit much), while James Wilby’s Designer provides the perfect counterbalance.

But here’s what’s really clever: this isn’t actually a play about the Queen at all.

It’s about women, power, and the exhausting performance of perfection.

It’s about how we communicate when we can’t speak freely, and how the people who dress us know us better than we know ourselves.

Is it perfect? Hell no. My mate Dean wanted more palace intrigue, more Diana drama, more scandal.

And sure, there are moments where this Royal drama feels a bit repetitive, like we’re stuck in a very polite Groundhog Day of costume changes.

But maybe that’s exactly the point. Maybe the real scandal isn’t what happened behind palace doors—it’s how utterly relentless the performance was, day after day, outfit after outfit, for seventy years.

The creative team, led by Dominic Dromgoole’s direction and Jonathan Fensom’s gorgeous set design, has crafted something that feels both intimate and epic. Those projected images of iconic outfits don’t just show us fashion history—they show us a woman who turned clothing into armor.

After the show, Anne Reid came to the bar to meet fans. Professional to the core, boundaries clear but warmth genuine.

Watching her, I couldn’t help but think she understood something essential about her character—that grace isn’t about perfection, it’s about showing up, again and again, even when you’d rather stay home.

Walking out of The Lowry in my hoodie, I felt oddly underdressed for the first time in years.

If nothing else, By Royal Appointment reminded me that what we wear isn’t just fabric—it’s a conversation we’re having with the world, whether we realise it or not.

This isn’t reinventing theatre, but sometimes the most radical thing you can do is tell a familiar story with genuine heart. In a world obsessed with tearing down institutions, here’s a play that asks: what if we looked at the human cost of holding them up instead?

Verdict: Understated, charming, and surprisingly sharp. Go for Anne Reid and Caroline Quentin, stay for the quiet revolution happening right there on stage.