Prince of Players 1955

Charles Bickford plays Dave Prescott, a theater owner who eagerly anticipates a performance by Junius Brutus Booth in San Francisco, only to watch the aging actor stumble, falter, and eventually abandon the run. As a dramatic gesture, Junius passes over his crown—literally the stage crown worn during his portrayal of Richard III—to his son, Edwin “Ned” Booth, Richard Burton who has memorized his father’s entire repertoire. Ned’s first real moment in the spotlight arrives with a mining-camp performance of Richard III, where initial skepticism from the crowd slowly gives way to admiration as Ned channels the old man’s voice and presence. Minutes after this triumph, Prescott delivers the heavier news: Junius has died.

Ned journeys back to the East, where his brother John Wilkes Booth is making waves in Washington, D.C. as The Taming of the Shrew comes to Ford’s Theatre. John Wilkes Booth, John Derek, is poised to broaden his fame with a tour, and he invites Ned to join as his manager along with Asia Booth, Elizabeth Sellars, their younger sister. Ned, proud of having earned his craft by traveling with and tending to their father, declines the offer, insisting he learned the hard-won lessons of performance while on the road rather than from a quick rise to the top. He chooses to strike out on his own, partnering with Prescott for a separate theater tour that takes him to New Orleans, where he meets Mary Devlin Booth, Maggie McNamara, a fellow actor who plays Juliet opposite his Romeo in another production. The two marry, and Ned believes he has found a stabilizing center in a life that has already known too much volatility.

The Civil War reshapes everything. John stands firm for the Confederacy, and Ned’s offer to join him in London for Hamlet is rejected. Mary’s pregnancy adds another layer of pressure, and when she falls ill, Ned sinks into heavy drinking and misses performances. The family is strained, but the worst news comes soon enough: John Booth shoots President Abraham Lincoln at Ford’s Theatre, an act that casts a long shadow over the Booth name. Weeks later, John dies on a Virginia farm, leaving Ned to grapple with grief, guilt, and the uncertain path ahead.

With the country still reeling, Ned returns to the stage in Hamlet, determined to honor his craft despite the weight of his family name. The opening night is a charged, hostile scene: a packed house, a mob that hurls insults and vegetables, and an atmosphere thick with anger toward theaters and actors in the wake of Lincoln’s death. Backstage, Prescott urges cancellation, but Ned refuses to yield to fear or to the memory of his late wife’s faith in his gift. He clings to a personal vow, whispered by Mary: he must “never be derelict” to the calling that defines him.

As the curtain rises, Ned sits centered on the throne, enduring the barrage of derision with a calm focus that unsettles the crowd more than any flame or cheer could. The mob’s fury eventually ebbs, and a single protester’s shout—“he’s got guts”—is met by a growing chorus of approval from others in the audience. The actors return to the stage, and the film closes on a powerful, hopeful note: as Ned absorbs the audience’s rising applause, he also hears a fragment of Juliet’s lines spoken by the late Mary, a bittersweet echo of love and art enduring beyond tragedy.