Henry V
2013: Dominic Dromgoole

This is part of the Globe Theater series, and one directed by Dominic Dromgoole. It has the strengths and weaknesses of both. It represents a relatively complete text of the play, and hence avoids some of the obvious confusions that arise when the script is too severely truncated. The narrative is reasonably complete.

Diction is often rather exaggerated, and dialogue is often declaimed at volumes that suggest something more like dueling soliloquies than conversation. Some of that is a concession to the setting, perhaps, but when everything is rendered this way, much of the nuance of the play drains away.

That that is not strictly necessary is proven by the Chorus — done here by a woman, which is atypical, but there is no real gender requirement for the role, and Brid Brennan does an exceptional job with it. She bellows not at all. Her role is somewhat more complete than in some versions, as well, so we get the benefit of her explanations and the strange theme — which runs through the whole of the play — of the inadequacy of the medium to the message.

Some scenes work, and very well. The Dauphin actually seems to be speaking to the other players, as well, and the boasting scene in the French camp prior to the Battle of Agincourt has a certain conviction. There are scattered throughout moments of insight and brilliance.

Henry himself, however, is just not terribly interesting. He delivers the terms to Harfleur, including his promise to spit infants on spears, as if he were enumerating the dry specifics of a real estate contract that he doesn’t wholly understand. At other points he carries the role adequately; the night dialogues prior to Agincourt are somewhat better, but the prayer following is recited as if it were a practiced form of words that has grown empty of meaning by sheer repetition. The St. Crispin’s Day speech is similarly rather tepid — certainly not at all inspiring. One can see playing these down, if only to differentiate them from the arioso performances of Olivier and Branagh, but they ought not be boring. Henry shows some real fire from time to time, as in his response to the herald Montjoy, but it’s unpredictable and rather arbitrary. His genuinely horrific order to execute all the prisoners — which Shakespeare makes into a response to the killing of the boys in the baggage train, but which was, in any normal understanding of the laws of war at the time, a war crime, plain and simple — is made comical too by the mugging of Pistol for his loss of ransom.

The battle itself commences with a dumb show of archers, accompanied by drums, pretending to shoot; it is neither really impressive nor particularly informative. Later men at arms come out and gesticulate with halberds to similar effect. From this, obviously, we are to understand that a battle is going on. Why it is necessary to state that is less clear. The dialogue up to this point has hardly left that fact obscure.

As with almost everything else directed at the Globe by Dominic Dromgoole, there is — to my sensibility at least — a good deal too much silly stage business. Someone must enjoy this stuff; it doesn’t do anything for me. Many lines are played for laughs, whether they are funny or not, and different characters engage in broad mugging or gratuitously strange pronunciations for no other apparent reason than to assure everyone that none of this ought to be taken seriously. Of course, if it is played that way, it won’t be taken seriously. Sam Cox as Pistol is more or less the same brash, loud character he plays as the King of France in All’s Well that Ends Well. They are not really the same character — or ought not be. The St. Crispin’s Day speech is punctuated by silly antics from Pistol, which, if nothing else, drains it of much of its grandeur.

There are productions from the Globe lineup that are genuinely excellent. Their Twelfth Night, Macbeth, Antony and Cleopatra, and a number of others are nuanced and worth watching, creating different experiences appropriate to the contents of the plays. Reducing everything chiefly to fodder for comic recreations and sight gags doesn’t really serve Shakespeare very well. Overall, this is worth seeing as a look at the original performance practice and venue, but almost any of the other available versions will, I think, do a better job of unpacking what this play has to offer.

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