Henry V (Series 2 Episode 3)

First Transmitted 23rd December 1979

David Gwillim prepares to summon up the blood

Cast: David Gwillim (Henry V), Alec McCowen (Chorus), Clifford Parish (Exeter), Bryan Pringle (Pistol), Tim Wylton (Fluellen), David Buck (Westmoreland), Thorley Walters (King of France), Keith Drinkel (Dauphin), Julian Glover (Constable of France), Trevor Baxter (Canterbury), Jocelyne Boisseau (Katherine), Brian Poyser (Gower), George Hower (Sir Thomas Erpingham), David Pinner (Williams), Brenda Bruce (Mistress Quickly), Jeffrey Holland (Nym), Gordon Gostelow (Bardolph), John Abineri (Ely), Garrick Hagon (Mountjoy), Robert Harris (Burgundy), John Saunders (Orleans). John Bryans (Bourbon), Pamela Ruddock (Queen Isabel), Anna Quayle (Alice), Rob Edwards (Bedford), Martin Smith (Gloucester), Roger Davenport (Clarence), Rob Beacham (Warwick)

Director: David Giles

 

Very few Shakespeare plays have such a filmic legacy as Henry V. The two most famous cinematic interpreters of the Bard – Laurence Olivier and Kenneth Branagh – have both acted and directed in productions of the play and it is the Shakespeare role arguably most readily associated with them. Each of the films is strikingly different, but both are imaginative productions of the play and stand up to repeated viewings as well as being excellent films in their own right. The question for any other filmed production of the play is quite simple: is there any point watching this again when you could be watching one of those productions? In the case of this film, the answer is a definite no.

 

To be fair, at the time of the making of this production, Branagh’s film was still 10 years away. Never the less, this is so old fashioned in its filming, acting and use of music (and in some scenes it is so ham-fistedly made) it may as well be 20 years when comparing the two to each other. What is a fair comparison is contrasting it with Olivier’s marvellous spectacle of high budget and imagination. And it doesn’t stand up to that either. In fact I think this production verges on the tragic, it’s such a missed opportunity.

 

For the very first time ever in this series the director goes for a non-realistic approach but, for whatever reason, it doesn’t quite work. The most effective sequence is the opening. Alec McCowen’s well-spoken chorus emerges from a blackened studio facing the camera, before lights come up in the studio to reveal an artificial court scene (a suggestion of walls) and a series of actors in freeze. Ely and Canterbury complete their plotting in a small church, and turn smoothly to walk straight into the royal throne room, created by a change of lighting in the set and the sudden reveal of other actors. It’s a high point in the production’s non-realist approach. The video below shows this sequence.

 

 

 

 

The problem is that this is a half-hearted attempt. I wanted this to stay on an obvious soundstage, with locations merging into each other and to make no attempt to persuade us we were outside. But events become a little too real. As soon as we are in France, the grass on the floor, the solid blue backdrop and the stone walls look too much like attempts to create the same realist feel as the Henry IV films. Harfleur feels like a set we are not meant to think is a set rather than a creative use of soundstage limitations.  Not only that, but the excellent movement of the Chorus between scenes is gradually dropped. McCowen may appear suddenly as a French lord at the end of A3 before walking into darkness, but by A5 it’s just become a simple cut away to his face.  It’s hugely disappointing after the quiet inventiveness of the start. Instead, by going with a more realist approach for most of A3 and A4, memories of the invention of Olivier’s film (moving from the Globe to a location and back again) come straight back to the viewer. And it’s not a flattering comparison. It makes this production look like a pale copy – as one reviewer said “the borrowed robes of Olivier”. Rather than use the budget and location limitations as a strength, they become a crippling weakness.

 

The invention returns slightly in A5 with the French court created by suggested walls and free-standing tapestries on a soundstage. The French courtroom looks great as a fleur de lis decorated room (floor and all) but it’s also got a clear outline and structure, more so than the earlier English court. The final sequence reverses the opening (the chorus walks from the still action into darkness) but it feels like something went wrong here with the plans of the director and designer (reportedly it ended up looking far more realist than either had intended). It’s a massive disappointment.

 

And Henry V is a play that needs invention: because it is so Henry-dominated, it takes a lot of work (and a very strong cast) to make any of the rest of the parts make an impact. That’s reflected in what happens here. No other actor other than David Gwillim really registers with the viewer – certainly none of the other English lords (for instance Rob Edwards, very good in Part 2, completely passed me by as a presence) who are barely characters. Clifford Parish makes a solid impression as Exeter, but David Buck continues to default to shouting as Westmoreland. For the rest, they are just interchangeable county names.

 

None of the French lords stand out either, despite actors as strong as Julian Glover, Thorley Walters, Garrick Hagon and Keith Drinkel filling the parts. Tim Wylton’s Fluellen raises the odd smile, but is far too broad for my liking. Despite Bryan Pringle’s best over acting, Pistol feels like a faded photocopy of Falstaff. Only very small moments from the support cast make impressions: Brenda Bruce gives a wonderful, emotional delivery of her eulogy to Falstaff and her sad “adieu” straight to camera is one of the few moving moments. Keith Drinkel’s terrified Dauphin during Agincourt is also a nice touch I haven’t seen before. Gordon Gostelow gives his finest performance in the series as a sweet Bardolph. But that’s really about it.

 

The lead performance though does merit some praise. Way back when watching Part 1 I thought Gwillim was doing something very different with Henry – making him a lighter, less charismatic figure, perhaps even more of a natural follower than a leader. It’s an interpretation that has carried through to here. This is easily the most softly spoken Henry V you are ever going to see. Gwillim’s Henry listens carefully to all advice when considering the invasion of France. He moves lightly and calmly with a smile through his troops, projecting calm and ease – as if there was nothing of any concern about to happen. He carefully uses emotion to win people to him – tears are in his eyes on “shall be my brother” in A4 S3 – and he is relaxed enough to encourage men to laugh at the gates of Harfleur. He only rarely shows anger (such as at Montjoy and at Williams) and is self controlled enough to play a Falstaffian game of pretence with the traitors in A2 S2.

 

The impression you get is a man who did not necessarily want to be king, who had to learn what it means to take on responsibility and duty. He had to try to wear it lightly to stop it crushing him. During his speech before Agincourt he is in genuine pain and sheds tears of regret at the simpler life he has lost. Gwillim plays Henry with more self-doubt and reluctance than I’ve seen from another actor before. It’s a logical progression from the carefree young man of the start of Henry IV Part 1. The price paid of this style of performance is that the big speeches lack the impact that they normally carry. But it’s a very interesting reinterpretation of a famous role – and allows Gwillim to put himself at the opposite end of the spectrum from Olivier’s godlike interpretation.

 

But unfortunately it is at the centre of a very flat production, hideously overlong. Of all the ‘great’ plays, Henry V is possibly one of the weakest, and the decision to remove virtually none of it here (the only really noticeable cut is the deletion of Henry’s threats to the citizens of Harfleur) makes this production a bum-numbing three hours, with too many dreadfully unfunny scenes featuring Pistol antics and leeks left in.

 

For Agincourt, Giles’ delivers his worst battle scenes so far (and the idea of a film of this play including virtually no actual fighting in it is hard to believe) and the empty green ground and blue skies end up neither suggesting a non-realist setting or providing any visual interest. Dramatically the worst of the history productions so far, with lines delivered in profile during long exchanges in scenes lacking drive or purpose. It’s a play with some of the most famous rhetoric in the English language, but it has almost no oomph, no va-va-voom. Part of this is a deliberate decision – but if a production of Henry V doesn’t push some of those buttons at least some of the time, then what is it actually for?

 

This could have been balanced out if more attempt had been made to tackle the subtle, underlying criticism of the war games that kings play which Shakespeare threads through the play. Henry’s war causes no end of death and wipes out his old friends. He threatens hideous vengeance on Harfleur (threats which are cut here) and shows no hesitation in ordering a massacre of prisoners. But these events lack impact – nothing is made of them. They don’t shed light on kingship they just merely seem to happen. Gwillim’s performance of a quieter King would have been a great opportunity to explore the cost of the king from all this death and destruction – but it just doesn’t happen.

 

Even the great scene with Williams and Henry falls flat – there isn’t the sense of a common man (unknowingly) pointing out the logic flaws and ambition of the king, or of Henry having to deal with this. Giles never really confronts Henry with the implications of his actions, or allows the drama to question the cost of Henry’s decisions or his potential selfishness or aggression. Any material of that nature comes solely from Gwillim’s more low-key interpretation.

 

This production clearly wanted to do something different within the restrictions of the series. It’s actually quite admirable that they tried something so artificial on television. But it doesn’t have the courage of its own convictions and doesn’t bring enough interpretation or interest to the play.  I thought from the opening moments I might be in for something special, but instead this is a disappointment.

 

Conclusion

The first time this series has gone for non-realism and artificiality but the production is largely a failure with mediocre direction and acting (outside David Gwillim). In a world awash with Henry V films it doesn’t offer anything new. I can’t imagine this ever being anyone’s favourite film of the play and it falls short of the high spot of Part 2 and the good work in Part 1.

 

Next time: It’s with a small sigh of relief that I move away from these history plays (five out of the first ten! I love the plays but I need a break…) and look forward to Felicity Kendal cross dressing in Twelfth Night.