“Digging Into the History Until It Started Asking Questions Back”: Gary Owen on writing ‘Owain & Henry’
When you sit quietly in the corner of a room while Chris Birch interviews Gary Owen, you learn very quickly that the playwright behind Owain & Henry is not simply a historian, nor merely a dramatist. He is a man who has spent decades wrestling with Welsh identity, confidence, and the strange, magnetic contradictions of Owain Glyndŵr. Listening to him speak, you feel the weight of a story that has lived inside him for a quarter of a century — and the thrill of seeing it finally take shape on the Wales Millennium Centre’s vast stage.
Gary is warm, wry, and disarmingly honest. He answers questions with the kind of thoughtful precision that makes you lean forward, even when you’re only meant to be observing. What emerges, as Chris guides the conversation, is a portrait of a writer who has dug so deeply into Welsh history that it has begun to dig back.
Listen to the Full Audio Conversation at the Base of this Page
A playwright facing a “very, very big space”
When Chris asks what it feels like to bring his words to the Donald Gordon Theatre, Gary lets out a small laugh — the kind that carries both excitement and nerves.
“I haven’t seen my words on this stage yet. It’s going to be quite extraordinary… it’s a very, very big old space.”
From my seat, I can see the flicker of anticipation in his expression. He talks about the thrill of creation, but also the tightening tension as opening night approaches.
“At the moment it’s really exciting… but as the day you have to present it to the public gets closer, it gets a little bit more tense.”
It’s a reminder that even the most seasoned playwrights feel the weight of a room built for nearly 2,000 people.
Owain Glyndŵr: “A story worth telling”
As Chris steers the conversation toward the historical heft of Glyndŵr, Gary reflects on how long the story has lived in his imagination.
“I’ve been writing since 2001 or 2002… and I think it’s been in the back of my mind that Owain Glyndŵr is a story worth telling.”
He jokes about the Braveheart comparisons — something he’s heard for years.
“Ever since Braveheart came out, people have said, ‘Why haven’t we had a Braveheart?’ What we needed was some really famous actor to decide they would be our Braveheart.”
Michael Sheen’s involvement made that possible. But Gary’s approach wasn’t to create a Welsh blockbuster. Instead, he dug into the history until it began resisting simple answers.
“I started finding things I couldn’t understand.”
From my vantage point, I can see Chris leaning in as Gary describes Glyndŵr’s political brilliance.
“He wasn’t a hugely powerful lord… but he was really successful as a politician. Every time the English king sent somebody to kill him, Owain would recruit them.”
The rebellion grew into a grand alliance of Welsh, English and French forces — and yet, somehow, it didn’t win.
“He invaded England, had the English king caught in the open, had a bigger army, had the better position… and then he didn’t win. How did that happen?”
That question, Gary explains, became the engine of the play.
Confidence, Wales, and the “nerve to back ourselves”
Listening to Gary talk about Welsh confidence feels like watching someone gently lift the lid on a national trait we all recognise but rarely articulate.
He tells Chris about going from Brynteg Comprehensive in Bridgend to Cambridge University, where he met people who had never once questioned whether they belonged in positions of power.
“They are not overly troubled by self‑doubt.”
It shaped his understanding of how Britain is run, and how confidence — not qualification — often determines who leads.
“Sometimes in Wales we don’t quite have the nerve to back ourselves.”
From my seat, I feel the truth of that line settle in the room.
Bringing women to the forefront: “The rebellion was negotiated between themselves”
Chris raises the prominence of women in the play — something Rakie Ayola and Sophie Melville spoke passionately about earlier. Gary responds with a thoughtful, grounded explanation.
“Of course, in that time it was overwhelmingly men who ran things… but what I’ve done is bring the domestic into it.”
He describes a moment where Owain returns home after declaring rebellion:
“He goes home and says, ‘This is what I’ve done.’ And there are some difficult conversations.”
The uprising becomes not just a political act, but a marital negotiation — a shared decision between Owain and Mared.
“The rebellion, at least in its start, is something Owain and Mared negotiate between themselves.”
From where I sit, it’s clear how this reframing humanises the myth — history not as a parade of kings, but as a series of conversations around a kitchen table.
A timely production — but Gary won’t reveal its “specific viewpoint”
When Chris asks whether the play feels timely, arriving just as Wales gains new political leadership, Gary chooses his words carefully.
“It is a production with quite a specific viewpoint… but I don’t want to say what that is yet.”
He doesn’t want to pre‑empt the audience’s experience.
“Maybe people won’t feel this is the Owain Glyndŵr story they were hoping for. And maybe that’s fine, as long as they feel they’ve got something worth coming out to the theatre for.”
From my seat, I appreciate the restraint — the belief that meaning belongs to the audience, not the playwright.
“I get to enjoy it through them.”
For all the political and historical weight of the play, Gary lights up most when talking about actors.
“When I read my scripts, I don’t really like them. I find it quite painful.”
But when performers pick them up?
“When somebody like Sophie picks it up… she does something quite magical.”
And Michael Sheen?
“From the first moment he picked up the script, Michael knew what to do with it.”
Watching him speak, I can see the admiration settle into something softer — gratitude.
“It’s a huge joy to see what the actors do with it, because then I get to enjoy it.”
“This is just the start of something.”
As the conversation draws to a close, Gary reflects on the collective effort behind Owain & Henry.
“Once Michael said, ‘We are going to do this,’ people stepped up and said, ‘Right. We’ll be part of it.’”
The Wales Millennium Centre, the newly formed Welsh National Theatre, and a vast creative team have poured themselves into the project.
“There’s obviously a huge thirst and enthusiasm to tell these sorts of stories.”
And crucially:
“Michael didn’t set up the Michael Sheen Company. He set up a Welsh National Theatre… something that will go on after him.”
From my seat, it’s clear that this production is not an endpoint. It’s a beginning.
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A landmark moment for Welsh storytelling
Listening to Gary Owen speak, you realise Owain & Henry is more than a historical drama. It is a meditation on confidence, leadership, domestic negotiation, and national identity. It is a reminder that Welsh stories are vast, complex, and worthy of the biggest stage in Europe.
And for Gary, it is the culmination of decades of thought — and the start of something larger.
