You're often conscious in London of the place's great age, but there's nothing like visiting the remnants of a third-century temple devoted to Mithras-a bull-killing god popular with Roman centurions-to make you appreciate just how many cities lie beneath the streets. (A river, the Walbrook, once ran by the temple, though it has since been built over and lost.)
In 'Player Kings,' Robert Icke's nearly four-hour adaptation of Shakespeare's two 'Henry IV' history plays, at the West End's Noël Coward Theatre, Ian McKellen-himself a mischievous theatrical god-takes up the character's traditional fake belly and air of ribald delight. To re-examine him, Icke places Falstaff and his medieval milieu in a recognizable now: when Harry (Toheeb Jimoh) and a backstreet buddy go on a spree, they cut apart an A.T.M., sending sparks from their metal grinder across the dark.
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