Shakespeare’s Henry V at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon
In 1415 a rag-tag army of Englishmen were retreating through France. After
a tougher than expected siege of Harfleur and an outbreak of dysentery, their
plans of conquest lay in tatters. On 25th October, St Crispin’s Day,
they met a French army near the castle of Agincourt. Outnumbered by the fresher
French forces, the English stood their ground and won a victory that has
resounded down the ages (largely thanks to Shakespeare). The English king eventually
married the French princess, a legend was born and a new golden age seemed to
be in the offing. As it turned out, Henry’s early death called time on the
golden age before it got going and cost his country not only France but its internal
peace as well, as the Wars of the Roses destroyed his successors.
So in Henry V Shakespeare
captures an England full of hope between the years of treason and rebellion
which marked the reigns of Henry IV and Henry VI. It is full of instantly
recognizable patriotic scenes such as the St Crispin’s Day and the ‘once more
unto the breach’ speeches, but it also occasionally expresses a darker side to
Henry’s rule. The Archbishop of Canterbury’s slippery justifications for the
invasion, Henry’s doubts before the big battle and his often quite unlikable
hypocrisy are all troubling aspects. Henry doesn’t seem to care about the death
of his old friend Falstaff and he executes old cronies Nym and Bardolph. There
is lots of thanking god, but how much is it a public act? He’s a careful
politician, so outward religiosity for the sake of morale would not be
surprising. And Henry even admits his own illegitimate right to rule, thanks to
his father’s treason against Richard II: ‘Think not upon the fault my father
did…’ However, the context of that admission is important. On the eve of
battle, all alone, Henry prays to god for his men’s safety. And there is enough
elsewhere in the play to overcome any doubts about Henry’s character. Much
of our scepticism comes from modern sensibilities perhaps alien to the original
audience. Are we perhaps too sentimental in wishing Henry would save Nym and
Bardolph? Or should we embrace a ruler who exercises justice without
favouritism? The characters in the play are unequivocal: Henry is a great and
well-loved king.
In
terms of this production, the stage set is immediately both simple and
striking. At the beginning, the backdrop is entirely removed and the backstage
area creates extra space. During the play, the backdrop occasionally appears,
via a clever guillotine device, during intimate moments (or to create Harfleur’s
walls). The stage’s floor bears an interesting pattern which, during the great
battle, is revealed as an invisible Perspex layer above a textured muddy field.
This is nicely done. It was also nice to
see a few of the cast from last year’s Two Gentlemen of Verona in minor roles. Having now seen a few RSC plays,
the return of actors from earlier productions allows one to appreciate the
actors’ impressive versatility. I suspect some of them will one day be well known.
The
most recognizable face is Oliver Ford Davies’, who plays the chorus. He got the
play rolling with his entry from the backstage area looking for like an elderly
and befuddled audience member who had taken a wrong turn. This effect is probably
calculated and he got an early laugh when he curiously picked up Henry’s crown
only to have Henry stride out and snatch it away from him. Although the main
cast wear medieval dress, Ford Davies is bedecked in brown corduroys and a blue
cardigan. He is intentionally distanced from the rest of the cast but it
doesn’t really work. Admittedly, the chorus must be a difficult part for a
modern director to pull off and Shakespeare himself wasn’t exactly keen on them.
Its origin is ancient and tragic, and its use in Henry V was perhaps intended to burnish the play’s epic quality.
But epic patriotism isn’t really the done thing for the modern intelligentsia. Ford
Davies has the odd stab at it (this is the 600th anniversary of
Agincourt, so this production has to be at least partly celebratory), but at
times he is ironic rather than patriotic and at others he is earnest but over
the top. As I’ve indicated earlier, the text at times questions the legitimacy
of Henry’s exploits, but it is done with much more subtlety than Ford Davies
musters here, veering erratically between over-gesticulating jingoism and
sardonic scepticism.
Joshua
Richards’ Fluellan is hilarious as the warm but garrulous old Welshman and Jennifer
Kirby as Kate 
Alex
Hassell is a handsome and august Henry, but perhaps not quite tough enough and
for much of the play not quite down to earth enough. He also has a slightly
annoying tendency to address the audience instead of his fellow characters.
Presumably the director asked him to do this, and perhaps the aim is to tie the
audience more closely to the action. If so, the effort is wasted.
The
St Crispin’s Day speech should be the climax of the play:
‘From this day to the ending of
the world,
But we in it shall be
remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of
brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood
with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er
so vile,
This day shall gentle his
condition;
And gentlemen in England
now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d
they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap
whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint
Crispin’s day.’
Here
it is the biggest disappointment, desperate rather than inspiring. The tone is
flat and the result is anti-climactic. The courage of the men is undercut by an
attempt at comedy as Pistol almost takes up the offer to go home, and the end
of the speech is followed straightaway, almost before Henry had finished
speaking, by the announcement of a messenger’s arrival. No cheering, no signs
of grim purpose, no response at all from the army. Again, the director was
afraid to appear too patriotic. Henry is much better after the wars, and the
wooing scene with Katherine is delightful. Even if flawed in places, Hassell’s
performance contains enough to convince me that he is a fine actor, surely due
a breakout role in the near future if he turns his sights on television or
film.
Overall,
this production has a few blemishes and compares unfavourably to the year’s best Stratford performances: Volpone and The Jew of Malta. But a comparison with
those great productions is unduly harsh. For all its faults, this is an
enjoyable and thought-provoking work, with a number of standout performances.
