Shakespeare’s Henry V has received countless interpretations, but here’s an intriguing and fascinating new study that could be subtitled: The Learning Curve of Kings.
Director Gregory Doran and actor Alex Hassell memorably presented Prince Harry’s riotous youth with the roguish old knight Falstaff in Henry IV. Now he’s under the microscope on the hottest of hot seats, the throne. A process leavened by the introduction of some worthy and valid humour.
That curve is a very sharp one. The son of a usurper, a young man known only for his excesses, the ambitious Henry has a great deal to prove. And this production, often with cool, modern detachment, analyses the cruel dilemmas that make a man a king.
Foreign wars are good for popularity and the Church, in exchange for reduced taxation, happily concocts proof of England’s just claims on France. Events however are not scriptable. The king faces a home grown plot and declining fortunes of war, before delivering the miraculous victory of Agincourt.
Hassell’s performance too is nigh miraculous. It ranges from isolated, tense fixation as he affects the authority he strives to build – voice and movement full of edgy introversion, to assured soldierly bonhomie as success crowns his efforts.
He agrees the execution of his former outlaw friend Bardolph with the barest perceptible flicker of emotion. His ‘Once more into the breach’ speech, delivered from an otherwise empty stage, is all intellect. But by his Agincourt, St Crispin’s Day speech, his heart rules the mounting reasoning that fires ‘this precious few’ into battle.
And with the subsequent emergence of the soldier who questioned his morality, when the king went disguised amongst his troops, Henry’s understanding of kingship is complete. Completed that is with a surprise punch from his challenger – maturely accepted as just.
Subsequently, as victorious leader and wooer, Hassell exudes all the vigour and charm of Olivier and Branagh. Doran knows too well to stand in the way of Shakespeare the hero maker, but elsewhere he sets insightful shafts of light into harsh political realities.
As the Chorus, Oliver Ford Davies dressed in modern casual clothes, succeeds both as traditional boisterous narrator and independent observer, with some telling humorous interjections.
The reported death of Falstaff however, somehow lacks its due pathos, and Henry’s execution of his prisoners goes all unexplored.
As Pistol and Fluellen, Antony Byrne and Joshua Richards are living comic creations, and as the French princess Jennifer Kirby is a playful animated nymph.
With a working work of art in Stephen Brimson Lewis’ set and projections, this production revitalizes a play which can easily slip into cliché. ★★★★☆ Derek Briggs 24/09/15
