Friday 9 October 2015

Henry VI Part 2 (Series 5 Episode 4)

First transmitted 9th January 1983

Bernard Hill's revolt causes chaos at the court in Henry VI Part Two

Cast: John Benfield (1st Murderer/Ship’s Master), Peter Benson (Henry VI/Priest), Antony Brown (Walter Whitmore/Alexander Iden), David Burke (Gloucester/Dick the Butcher), Michael Byrne (John Hume/Pirate Captain), Anne Carroll (Duchess of Gloucester) Paul Chapman (Suffolk), Ron Cook (Richard Plantagenet/Peasant), Arthur Cox (Thomas Horner/Lord Clifford), David Daker (Buckingham), Brian Deacon (Somerset/Smith the Weaver), Tenniel Evans (Salisbury/Clerk), Derek Farr (Lord Say), Julia Foster (Queen Margaret), Derek Fuke (Simpcox/George Bovis), Alex Guard (Second Prentice/Michael), Bernard Hill (York), Paul Jesson (John Holland/George Plantagenet), Pat Keen (Margery Jourdain), Gabrielle Lloyd (Simpcox’s Wife), Oengus MacNamara (Young Clifford), Frank Middlemass (Cardinal Beaufort), Trevor Peacock (Sheriff/Jack Cade), Brian Protheroe (Edward Plantagenet), David Pugh (Peter Thump/2nd Murderer), Mark Wing-Davey (Warwick), Peter Wyatt (Sir Humphrey Stafford)
Director: Jane Howell

The great thing about the Henry VI plays is they really lend themselves to being produced as a complete series, in a way that the more stand alone Richard II, Henry IV Part 1 and Henry V don’t. Not only do they have a consistent cast throughout (and reasonably consistent characterisation), but the plotlines of each play feed naturally into the next. Precisely because these plays lack the thematic complexity and structure of the later (greater) plays, which build to satisfying conclusions within their running times, these epic dramas create a single twelve hour sweep. So while the plays would make little sense performed alone, as a whole they can pack quite a wallop.

Which is definitely what happens here as this second episode in the “series” picks up almost exactly where the previous episode left off: Suffolk has arrived with Margaret, Beaufort and Gloucester still hate each other, York is still planning nationwide domination and Henry is still painfully useless. Our setting remains the same, but (not surprising, considering the slaughter that ended Part One) the playground location is now distinctly bashed and faded, the colours a shadow of what they were before, the wood and paintwork chipped and fading. It’s still the exact same set, but darker, grimier and more imposing, as if with the death of the noble Talbot and his son some of the light and hope has gone out of the world.

The costuming of is also darker, with the bright colours and decorative medieval flourishes of the armour and cloaks largely gone in favour of a browner, more muted colour pallet that gets darker as the play progresses. By the end of the play, as York’s army arrives dressed in stormtrooper black costumes, it’s clear the long night is coming to the world of the play. This faded effect masterfully contrasts the atmosphere of both the production and the play, with this middle chapter of the trilogy being the sudden breath before the deep plummet into civil war. There are some lovely hints of this destruction to come: not least in a scene where York’s young children (two of them future kings) gleefully knock over skittles decorated to resemble the lords at Henry’s court.

The atmosphere of the first half of this production is markedly different from the proceeding part. Alongside the subdued colours, the performance style of the actors is similarly calmer, cooler and more restrained. The glances towards the camera are considerably reduced, with the actors going for a far straighter style, avoiding many of the little touches of comedy that were seen in Part One. This is partly as well due to the enormous sense of dignity that David Burke brings to essentially well-meaning Gloucester, but also an attempt by Howell to give the production a change of pace – a relax from the frenticism of Part One and a contrast to the violence to come – to allow the audience to breathe, but also to give a sense of foreboding over the kingdom itself. It is a bit of a jerk after the fast pace of the previous play – and partly driven by the nature of the writing of the play itself, with its longer court sequences – but it works very effectively once seen as part of the overall piece. 

The other element that Howell brings out extremely well in the play is the growing sense of menace from the people themselves – a menace that will explode once Jack Cade fills the leadership void left by Henry and the other lords. The first half has moments of darkness and corruption simmering throughout. Michael Byrne is central to these moments (another inspired piece of doubling). First he appears as corrupt priest John Hume, chairing a perverse and twisted witch ceremony for Gloucester’s wife (an entertainment he gleefully confides to the camera is all a set-up anyway). Later he appears again as the leader of a punkish group of pirates, like the lost boys on speed, presiding over a mock-trial of Suffolk like a minister of Hell.

But that’s nothing compared to the people themselves. Throughout the opening half of the production, the people are quick to follow a convincing leader and always ready to resort to violence at the slightest prompting. The groundwork is laid with the Simpcox scenes, with the people blindly following “the miracle”, totally lacking the ability to appreciate the deception practised upon them. The violence at the heart of the ordinary man grows from there: in A2 S3 the meek Peter snaps in the “duel” with his master and beats him to death. At the end of A2 S4, as the Duchess of Gloucester is led away, the camera cranes up to focus on the unruly mob sadistically rejoicing in her despair. In A3 S2 the mob charges on following Warwick and Salisbury’s lead, even chanting their single lines in unison together – comic yes, but also showing their essentially sheeplike nature. But the ferocity of their aggression towards Suffolk – the atmosphere of a lynch mob shocks even him – immediately shows their danger if harnessed. Harnessing that no-one in Henry’s circle seem interesting in doing.

All this explodes with the arrival of Jack Cade. Trevor Peacock plays Cade as a sadistic, grotesque version of Talbot, with all his nobility and selfless love for England replaced with greed and a fiendish delight in death and destruction. His Cade has all the leadership skills and rabble-rousing abilities of Talbot – but horribly misapplied. Howell even stages his scenes as parodies of Talbot’s inspiring speeches, with Peacock lazily clambering monkey-like up to the heights of the stage, legs swinging down as he encourages his men. As the violence promoted by Cade grows, Howell transposes Cade’s grinning face over the shots of looting, murder and devastation. The violence Cade unleashes is shockingly real – fires, book burnings, soldiers rocked back and forth and then speared on swords, bodies mutilated, lynchings – which serves as a real contrast to the black comedy of Cade’s attitudes (jokes about killing lawyers and the evils of writing etc.).

This serves to stress the bubbling current of violence that is running throughout the kingdom, from top to bottom. Just as the lords are brutally planning to murder each other, so the people need only the slightest encouragement and endorsement before they are happily ripping bodies apart, burning towns and laughingly beating a man to death. Cade’s lines acknowledging he himself is trapped by the forward momentum of violence ring particularly true here. Howell’s direction shows that Cade is just an opportunist at the right place at the right time – the swiftness with which he is abandoned, yet another indicator of the mob’s lack of loyalty and their readiness to follow the rising sun. But it's violence from top to bottom - numerous severed heads litter scenes, like grim bookmarks.

The violence exploded by Cade is both a continuation and an expansion of the growing reality of death from Part One. All the lords eagerly plan violent deaths for each other, and (with the exception of a horrified Beaufort when confronted with Gloucester’s corpse) all seem very comfortable with the consequences of their actions. So devoid are they of any sense of loyalty and decency, that they constantly ally themselves with long-term enemies to dispose of short-term ones: in particular York, who happily colludes in the destruction of Gloucester with Buckingham and Suffolk. Poor Gloucester, at the centre of much of this conspiracy of the first half, looks as pained and bewildered by this joint enterprise as you would expect – in particular a pained shock crosses David Burke’s face when York (who he previously championed) turns upon him, matched only by his pain when Henry strips him of his staff. Like sharks, the lords turn on anyone displaying weakness – Somerset coolly avoids a fallen Suffolk, Margaret further savages a struggling Gloucester. Is it any wonder the people they rule over are the same? The destruction these attitudes will lead to culminates in the final image of the play: a triumphant York and his sons celebrate their victory in battle, leaving a depressed Salisbury – the one decent man at court – to turn back and (in a POV shot) see the mangled corpses littering the field of battle.

The impact of the violence and chaos Cade and later York bring to the kingdom, seems earned precisely because the first half of the play is delivered in a far more controlled and formal way (both in the playing and the more traditional  film making decisions, avoiding the unusual like direct camera address). By allowing the earlier courtroom scenes to take on a more sombre, foreboding mood – with simmering arguments, political manoeuvrings but a slower tempo in delivery – and encouraging the actors to stage their arguments in a more overtly “Shakespearean” manner, with the threat of violence running underneath each scene but only rarely allowed to escape, the tension has been effectively screwed tight, ready to burst in Part Three. And the violence in the final battle of St Albans is grotesque here, with soldiers brutally murdering each other. A decision to reinforce blows (particularly in the one-on-one battles between key characters) with slo-mo editing and camera work does seem more than a little dated today, but the essential impact of the brutality after the restraint of the opening (and in contrast to the more cartoony tone of Part One) is hugely effective.

Alongside all this excellent thematic material, Howell again uses doubling to great effect. Antony Brown plays the destroyer of the antagonist of the both the first half (Suffolk) and the second (Cade) as first a scowling sinister Whitmore, then an urbane middle-class Iden. David Burke – triumphant as the noble Gloucester in the first half – returns as Dick the Butcher, Cade’s lieutenant, a man as cynical and destructive as Gloucester was old fashioned and principled as Henry’s lieutenant. Arthur Cox plays the bragging Horner who pompously boasts of York’s ascendancy, then returns as the rigidly proud Clifford, preaching the inevitability of Henry’s permanent ascendancy. Trevor Peacock is the most obvious doubling, his performance as Cade a skilful “mirror universe” version of Talbot, as a charismatic thug and murderer. Most of the rest of the cast can be spotted filling out the crowd of Cade’s supporters. The sense of the ensemble is not only really refreshing, but continues to allow excellent opportunities for sly commentaries on roles.

Among the rest of the cast, Peter Benson comes into his own in this part as an outrageously weak and passive Henry, his soft-toned, almost melodic, verse speaking perfect for a man who practically lies down like a doormat for the rest of the court. Often filmed from above or at tight angles that zoom in and out to stress his isolation from the others, Benson is a hand-wringing child throughout this play. From his vacant smiles in A1 S1 at the loss of France, through his starting at a trumpet call in A1 S3, he is consistently ignored or fobbed off by his lords (Beaufort and Gloucester in A2 S1 practically talk over his peace-making attempts) he is man unable to impose himself on anything, who only stares balefully as Gloucester is arrested. Even in his rage against Suffolk, he comes across as a weak man, hopelessly out of his depth. Benson is perfect at embodying this weakness with an air of sympathy and Howell effectively places him often at the back of the frame, a puny childlike man sitting on a throne, dwarfed by the powerful characters around him.

The real “lead” though of Part Two is probably York, brought to life as a quiet, calm, scheming Machiavel by Bernard Hill. Hill brings a brutish, earthy authority to York’s “man of the people stance” while simultaneously presenting the would-be-king as a cold snake, seething with rage and bitterness. What he also does well is explore some of the doubt in York – a man who several times halts and doubts the wisdom of his actions. Although on the surface a man who says what he means, he is also full of low cunning – scheming at the destruction of Gloucester in A1 S4 – even openly grinning to the camera at his own lack of principle. His authoritarian air is also clear in his brow beating of Salisbury (with physical force, at points) into siding with his plan to destroy Gloucester.

There are of course other strong performers. Tenniel Evans excels as Salisbury, possibly the last decent man left at court but one who is too weak to actually stick to his principles. Frank Middlemass’ Beaufort is so full of puffed-up pride, it’s a shock to see him deflate so quickly when actually confronted with the results of his murderous wishes. Mark Wing-Davey’s Warwick grows in authority and confidence. The one performance that doesn’t quite work is Julia Foster as Queen Margaret, who comes across far too harsh, angry and one-note throughout the opening half of the play (particularly in the scenes where she is required to flirt with Paul Chapman’s slimy Suffolk), like a shrill housewife rather than a woman who will dominate the war to come with her force of personality. There is not enough softness there, and scenes such as Suffolk’s departure suffer slightly as a result. It’s a performance that just feels too stagy. However, it is a style that works far better for the scenes of battle and fury that occupy the second half of the play.

But that’s one very small criticism of another outstanding production in this sequence, which continues to bravely reinvent the rules of the series and to shed new, and fascinating, light on these overlooked plays. Civil war is the hell ahead of the country now - Alexander Iden's horrified look at the camera speaks volumes for the deaths and destruction that this war will unleash. It's a horror that hangs over the whole production - the grip anticipation of what will come in Part Three.



Conclusion
Not quite as fun as Part One, but packed with great ideas, skilled performances and some wonderful moments, this both expands and deepens the world Howell has created for this production and again draws outstanding performances from its ensemble cast. The gear shift in tone from Part One is jarring at first (and a bit of a shame) but an essential pause for breath in the long term scheme for the series, and serves to highlight and give depth to the bubbling resentments that are set to explode in the second half of the play and in the rest of the series. Definitely keeping the game up!

NEXT TIME: One final part of Henry VI to come, this time with Ron Cook moving to the foreground as the sinister Richard in Henry VI Part Three.

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