A king launches an offensive war against a neighbour. His justification lies in a disputed two-generation-old claim to that country’s throne. His position at home is precarious. The scenario is horribly resonant to a 21^st century audience and Henry V’s unflinching ruthlessness must make him the least likeable of Shakespeare’s kings. The play is therefore a surprising choice for a company that works hard for contemporary relevance. Henry V was the great medieval warrior king, and the part needs an actor of huge power to draw us into his orbit. Alfred Enoch has many strengths as an actor, but he is no warrior.

Two years ago, working with the same director, Tamara Harvey, he was excellent as Pericles, playing him as an anxious lost youth, an awe-struck wanderer. As Henry he is a lightweight. He speaks and moves well, his timing can’t be faulted, but the necessary heft and charisma are lacking. 

The presentation of war onstage is a problem for any director. In the original play, all the fighting takes place offstage. Here the director and her movement director (Annie-Lunette Deakin-Foster) and fight director (Kate Waters) have brought it to the fore using slow, seamless choreographed movement. There are three main problems with this. Firstly, it makes war look like a graceful dance, secondly, it interrupts the stage action and finally, it feels unconvincing. Characters fill the stage. As they glide gracefully to the ground it’s hard to know whether they are French or English. And when they pop back to life again in the next scene it only creates confusion. There are no weapons, bar a single dagger. Realistic stage violence may not be a prerequisite to success, but the alternative offered here does little to engage us in the fight. 

The casting of women in prominent military and political roles is standard in modern productions. But it can also create problems. In the original text, the lead conspirator, Scroop, is Henry’s close friend. Once the plan to kill the king is revealed, three men are sentenced to immediate execution. By making Scroop a woman and Henry’s lover, the intention may have been to intensify the sense of the king’s cold heart. But it adds an aspect to his character that simply doesn’t exist in the text and feels like an unnecessary complication.

There are strengths in the production. The low life is compelling, particularly Paul Hunter’s Pistol. A great comedian, he commands the stage with a repertoire of idiosyncratic movement. 

Natalie Kimmerling is also engaging as the French princess, though staging the famous English lesson against the background of a hospital where she is tending the wounding and dying only adds a layer of distracting action. James Ballard also gives a notable performance as the mad French King, doubling as the hapless soldier, Williams. 

This Henry V is at best when least crowded.  The night before Agincourt there is a stillness before the storm. Motionless silhouettes and floating lanterns suggest the camp of waiting soldiers and Henry’s great ‘band of brothers’ speech rings out with poignant familiarity.

Because Shakespeare is never one dimensional, a sense of the waste and pity of war can be found buried deep, even in this great play of English patriotism. But it is better left there. Any attempt to bring it to the surface is fraught with danger.