Tag Archives: Michael Boyd

Henry VI part 1 – February 2008

8/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Tuesday 19th February 2008

Now that we’ve seen the rest of the cycle, these productions make more sense than before, although they were good already. Henry V appearing on the balcony at the start of this play, with his coffin being lowered into the pit, then climbing down into it headfirst, was a more powerful image this time around. From the Winter School, we learned that his costume had changed, to reflect the actual costume used in Henry V, and this definitely helped. In general, I felt the production had loosened up a bit, with everyone being more expressive in their roles. I found the final scenes, with Suffolk wooing Margaret, much funnier than I remembered. I also noticed that Richard Duke of York, at the end of the flower picking scene, looked uncomfortable as Warwick cheerfully predicted ten thousand deaths – an echo of his troubled reign as Henry IV?

The play opens with a paean of praise to Henry V, the king they’re just burying. This gets things off to a bad start, as it’s clear they’re missing him already. The bickering hardly holds off for the funeral – in no time the Duke of Gloucester and Bishop of Winchester are at each other’s throats – literally so in a later scene. What comes across is the personal animosity between the men. Perhaps the Duke, as Lord Protector, has the edge in being justified, but on the whole it’s pretty even, and pretty vicious.

The French dauphin is, of course, the one who upset Henry V so much with his balls (tennis, that is), and is still played wonderfully for comic effect by John  Mackay. He swirls on, with shorter coat tails this time, but still with a magnificent head of blond locks, followed by his nobles, likewise preening themselves to the verge of a hernia. These parts certainly seem more effective – I was much more aware of Joan before, but now they all stand out. Joan herself seems livelier, and the fight scene with the Dauphin was entertaining. I don’t remember if we see Joan’s three ladies in red in this scene or later – they weren’t so noticeable to me this time, I suspect due to the different angle.

For one scene, the Dauphin, Reignier and Alençon come on dramatically, posing as for some action movie, only to scuttle away from the fighting. John Mackay also has the nerve to show us his bottom (anatomical, rather than the character from Dream), as the French leaders sneak out of Orleans after the English retake it.

Talbot was as powerful as before. This time, I remembered his trick with his sword. While most of the English characters hold their swords in front of them, point upwards like a cross, Talbot lifts his hands up and strokes the sword over his head to bring it in front of him (at least, that’s what it looks like). Once he’s dead, I noticed the other Englishmen were doing much the same thing – a belated tribute, perhaps.

The scenes showing us the real start to the Wars of the Roses were also good, though this time I felt that perhaps Richard of York would have been better to get the information from Mortimer before arguing with someone else over his right to the crown. Still, it sets the situation out fairly clearly – we will get a more detailed explanation in tomorrow’s play – and is sufficient to explain the animosity between Somerset and York which results in neither of them helping Talbot, leading not only to his death, but that of this son. There’s a nice exchange between Talbot père et fils, where they bat lines back and forth, arguing over which of them should fly the battle and certain death. It’s nicely done, and the repetitive rhythm adds a touch of humour.

With all these strands in place, it only remains to show us the beginnings of the loss of France, which is what this play’s about. I was very aware this time that, according to Shakespeare, the battle between the French and English was evenly matched on the whole. Although Joan helped the French to some victories, the English kept winning towns back. It’s a war that could have gone on even longer, had English rivalries and factions not intervened. The mealy mouthed way both York and Somerset deny their assistance to Talbot (via Lucy) is a perfect example of the way some politicians and other leaders will happily see innocents crash and burn rather than give an inch of help to the opposition. And all the time they blame the other. I liked the staging for this, with York descending on the grid, and then Somerset appearing later on the balcony, emphasising how far apart these men are (and yet, how similar).

The peace negotiations were more entertaining for me this time around. Our position gave me a better view of the French and their machinations – they’re such naughty boys. With peace came the opportunity to ransom prisoners, and having taken the entire audience prisoner, Suffolk is about to sort us out when Margaret appears. This was a pretty quick change for Katy Stephens, as she’s just been burned to death as Joan, but she really scrubs up well. Again, I was more aware of the details in this scene, with Margaret trying to find out from Suffolk what her ransom will be, and him talking to us about how he fancies her, but wait he has a wife, bugger, OK he’ll woo her for the king, and then …… I liked the way she retaliated when he did finally decide to engage her in conversation, by making her own asides. She also shows her ambition and power at the very end, as she steps out of the frame, and walks about a bit before striding off as the lights go down. A right little minx, this one.

I was a bit surprised to realise how late in the play we first see Henry VI himself. He doesn’t come on till Act 3 scene 1, for his coronation, and to welcome the Duke of York back into the fold. I felt this performance was even more child-like – enthusiastic and eager, a royal puppy – and fitted in well with him being persuaded so easily to ditch his betrothal to the French King’s daughter and marry Margaret instead. I also want to mention the earlier scene with the mayor of London parting the Duke of Gloucester and the Bishop physically, and ordering them away. Matt Costain did a very nice mayor, with a few moves at the end, and the eyes gesture to someone in the audience.

In fact, the whole performance included the audience much more than before. We were involved at just about every opportunity, collectively or individually, though fortunately no one was taken off to be executed. (Must check what seats we’re in tomorrow – Row F, that’s a relief!). I was also conscious that this is a prequel, as Will had written the other two before finishing off the trilogy with this one. As a result, some of the play only makes sense if you know the story continues. In particular, the play ends with Suffolk’s declaration that he’ll be running things once Henry marries Margaret – pointless unless there’s more to come. However, as prequels go, it’s a good one. I’m not sure how well it would stand on its own, though, and as these plays have only been done in combination in my time, I’m not sure I’ll ever find out.

What else? Richard of York does the hunchback thing when Joan’s captured and is trying to use her magic. Henry V gets out of his grave when Bedford, with only one arm, opens it up, and the ghost heads into Rouen to recapture it. Bedford was also the first dead person to get up and walk off, though there will be plenty more this week. Incidentally, the text I have makes no reference to his arm being missing – here Joan picks up and displays a severed arm, and Bedford’s arm is clearly truncated. The revival of Henry V is also a Michael Boyd invention, though nothing wrong with that.

The ladder and rope work all seemed to be smoother this time, and less intrusive, although as we were slightly under the circle that may have helped to lessen the effect. I did like the pulling down of the blue ribbons of cloth. The Bastard of Orleans keeps rushing on, yelling his head off, and scaring the Dauphin. So when he takes off his helmet, the Dauphin says “Bastard. Of Orleans.” Nice touch.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry V – January 2008

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 19th January 2008

Cast changes today – Patrice Naiambana played Chorus instead of Forbes Masson, and Matt Costain played Orlean instead of Kieran Hill. Given these indispositions, it may  be that the comments at Winter School about lacklustre performances have their basis in illness. God knows, we audience members have been suffering, so it’s not too surprising if the cast have had their problems as well.

You may be wondering at what point a production/performance earns a ten-star rating. Well, it varies, but today it was about two minutes into the opening speech. Eschewing the customary request to turn off mobiles, we went straight into the opening Chorus. After some silent sword practise, Chorus begged for “A muse of fire” and gave us a very expressive rendition of the speech, including a slight amendment. Instead of asking if “this wooden O” could do the biz in representing the field of Agincourt, he asked if “this rusty shed” could do the job. Massive hilarity (the Courtyard theatre is, indeed, a rusty shed, though as nice a rusty shed as one could wish for).

Fortunately this change, although well received, didn’t bring the shed down, and next up was the chat between two churchmen about how to avoid losing a lot of the churches’ wealth to the crown. Apparently the strategy is to pay the king lots of money, which kind of misses the point – these two just wouldn’t cut it as tax dodgers. They head off for an important meeting, allowing the King and his advisers to enter and start the discussion that is central to the whole play. Does Harry have any right to claim France as his own, or not? If he does, it means war, lots of deaths and possible defeat, or victory, glory and money. If he doesn’t, we all go home early. We already know the Archbishop of Canterbury is inclined to advise the King to go to war, as then he can offer to help financially and get off the tax bill, so it’s no surprise when he does just that. Before this, when the King enters, Lord Scroop was carrying his crown, and offers it to him. Harry doesn’t want to wear it at that time, so Scroop keeps it during this discussion. When we get to the arrival of the French ambassador, then Harry puts it on, indicating to me that he still has some reservations about his kingship, and keeps the formal show for formal occasions.

Meanwhile, the Archbishop has been explaining that Salic law, which the French have been saying bars Harry from the French crown, applies only to lands in Germany, and that many French nobles and kings have claimed their titles through the female line, validating Harry’s claim. Only he doesn’t say it anything like as quickly (60+ lines). It’s a lovely performance from Geoffrey Freshwater, expressing the boring tedious detail clearly while still making it funny. There were several laughter points during his long speech, especially when he says “So that, as clear as is the summer’s sun”, given the fog of confusion we were all in by that time. Harry listens to it all patiently, and the further arguments of his lords, and clearly decides to go ahead with claiming France.

Now is the time to hear the French ambassador. He arrives through the doors at the back (this is unusual for the French – see later), and delivers the message from the Dauphin. (Although it’s often pronounced as “Dolphin”, they didn’t do it that way this time.) A large box descends from the heavens, carrying the tennis balls the Dauphin has sent in jest – a bitter jest as it will turn out. Harry gets really angry, and opens the box by striking it with his sword. All the balls fall out, covering the stage, and Harry tells the ambassador to tell the Dauphin where to shove it. He leaves, and the English prepare for war.

I’m always worried when there are lots of potential leg-breakers scattered about the stage, and the tennis balls definitely qualified. I also get a little worried that it’s going to take ages to get them all off (health and safety) and the momentum will be lost. This time, Chorus and two helpers brought on very wide brooms, and with a united front, swept most of the balls from the front to the back of the stage. It didn’t take long, and didn’t clear up all the balls either, but it helped, and at the end of it, Chorus was able to step forward for his next speech. In this, he tells us of the English preparations, the French concerns, the English traitors ready to kill the king, and that the next location is Southampton. As he tells us of the traitors, they step forward at the front of the stage, and I realised that Scroop, the crown-carrier, is one of them. For me, this brought home the degree of treachery far more than words alone, although Harry will use plenty of those to express his feelings later. Scroop’s closeness to the king, and the level of trust the king placed in him, were exemplified by his role as crown bearer, and for him to change allegiance means something has gone terribly wrong in Harry’s England. Today, I saw that Harry’s own actions before becoming king, his rowdy youth and dissipation, have contributed to this treachery, as few people have any faith that he will turn out to be a good king. Plus this continues the theme of king-killing and civil war that will become so familiar down the road. So for once, this scene made sense on a lot of levels. I recognised Harry’s unexpressed offer of mercy if the traitors show any themselves towards a prisoner. It reminded me of the courtroom scene in The Merchant Of Venice. They don’t advocate mercy, and so their fate is sealed. For this scene, Harry was sitting roughly centre stage on a crate and fiddling with an arrow, with the three lords in front of him. At one point, when the king had moved closer to them, they moved forward as if to kill him then and there, but he’d already moved back out of their reach, so their attempted assassination was thwarted.

I’ve run these two scenes together because of their connection, but the actual performance, and the text, have another scene between Chorus and the king. It begins at the end of Chorus’s speech, when Bardolph runs on at the back to relieve himself against the metal drum. (I think it was a physical need rather than artistic comment on the set.) In this scene we meet Pistol again, and Nym, who are at odds because Pistol has married Mistress Quickly, who also appears in the scene. I have to say I found much of this scene unintelligible. To show why, here is a small snippet of the dialogue:

Nym   Will you shog off? I would have you solus.

Pistol “Solus”, egregious dog? O viper vile!

The solus in thy most marvellous face,

The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,

And in thy hateful lungs, yea in thy maw pardie—

And which is worse, within thy nasty mouth.

Any suggestions? Bear in mind I don’t have an editor’s notes to hand during the performance. Admittedly, this is the worst bit I could find in my text, and there were some good bits. For example, Keith Dunphy portrays Nym as a depressed sort, with not too much weight to carry between his ears. This contrasted nicely with Nicholas Asbury’s rowdy Pistol, and the two finally come to some sort of accommodation with each other, mainly through Bardolph reminding them there’s a war to fight. Maureen Beattie’s Mistress Quickly keeps hovering on the border of good taste – the wrong side of the border, that is. She inserted a delicious pause in the lines

“for we cannot lodge

and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live

honestly by the prick of their needles,”

after the word “prick”, which got a good laugh. So the time was not wasted after all.

Following this was the discovery of the traitors, and then the Eastcheap boys are back to describe the death of Falstaff. I didn’t get much from this scene in terms of the dialogue, but I do remember thinking that Pistol is, in effect, taking over from Falstaff as the chief rogue of the crew.

Now to France, in an environmentally friendly way – no air miles for us. Three trapezes descend from the lofty ceiling, while the King of France himself appears on the balcony with a couple of attendants. The trapezes were necessary as the French court’s tailor (aka the wardrobe department) had seen fit to add excessively long tails to their coats, making it impossible for them to walk anywhere without tripping over their clothes. This created a nice popinjay effect, added to by the way that they casually swept up their tails and carried them over their arms from time to time. When the Dauphin (John Mackay) did come down to earth, and stood with his back to us, he looked for all the world just like a 1930s starlet in some glamorous evening dress, with his curly blond hair and sweeping train. The only down side to these costumes was that the lord nearest to us was in line with the king, and when his tails hung down, we couldn’t see what was happening on the balcony. But it’s a small price to pay for such a striking visual effect.

During this scene, the Dauphin comes across as an effete youngster, full of himself and the glory of the French court, and treating Henry with contempt. The Constable of France (Antony Bunsee) however, is a shrewder individual, who has picked up on what the ambassadors have told them of Henry. Perhaps the French king, with an echo of Henry IV, will find himself regretting that he didn’t have a different son and heir once the war is over.

The messenger from England is the Duke of Exeter (Miles Richardson). He brings a stern message to the French king – get off the throne, or else, backed up with a detailed pedigree which he hands to one of the lords on trapezes. It’s ironic that Henry V is telling another king that he’s a usurper, when many in England, and even more in his son’s time, will say that about his family’s claim to England’s crown. This is yet another example of the way in which Shakespeare is constantly comparing and contrasting his historical characters throughout these plays, and these all make Michael Boyd’s interpretation both more interesting and more valid. Anyway, this scene is good at setting up the tensions between the sides, and showing the Dauphin’s readiness to fight as well as suggesting his complete inability to make a good job of it.

Now Chorus has some more work to do, and takes over 25 lines to tell us that Henry’s sailed to France, and is now besieging Harfleur. More to the point, the French king has made an opening bid of his daughter’s hand in marriage and some minor dukedoms, and Henry’s said “no”. With the line “and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches”, there are some loud bangs, several trapdoors are flung open on stage, and Henry comes on to inspire us all to go back to the beach. Sorry, breach. It’s a rousing speech, and I certainly felt included in the ranks of the listening troops, though thankfully I didn’t have to fight.

After this morning’s talk by Nicola Watson, I was much more aware of the use of Pistol, Bardolph and the rest as a counterpoint to Henry. Bardolph’s first line is “On, on, on, on, on! To the breach, to the breach!”, a rather half-hearted imitation of the king. He doesn’t inspire much in his hearers, and it’s not till Fluellen comes along and chivvies them back to the action that they go, leaving the boy to tell us what a bunch of rogues they all are. I feel sorry for this lad. He was given to Falstaff by Prince Hal, and now he’s been taken over by Pistol and the others, and dragged off to war. Perhaps Henry really does think war a noble enterprise, or perhaps he’s just forgotten the lad, but I can’t help feeling he could have looked out for him a bit better. The boy himself wants to get away from them as he’s not keen on a life of crime, but alas, too late.

Now the next scene is a difficult one, and I still can’t claim to know what it’s about. I liked the performances well enough, but it feels too much like a joke about a Welshman, an Irishman, a Scotsman and an Englishman, only without the punchline. Fluellen is obviously a man who has studied the accounts of historical battles a great deal – his production of a large book while on the battlefield shows how obsessed he is with the subject – but how this relates to the other characters I have no idea. I will pay closer attention when we see it another time, in the hope of learning more.

The next scene is interesting. Henry addresses the governor of Harfleur, threatening all sort of dire consequences if he doesn’t hand over the town at once. He goes into a lot of detail, while taking care to suggest that the rape and killing would be entirely because his soldiers lost their cool, and nothing to do with him. Bit cheeky, that. In any case, the governor’s reply suggests that Henry could have saved his breath, and his 43 lines, as the town is only too ready to surrender. I guess this scene just shows how ruthless Henry’s prepared to be. Of course, when I’m watching it, I get as carried away with the wonderful words as the next man, and it all seems to make perfect sense – this RSC house writer certainly has a way with words. I can’t make up my mind whether, if he was around today, Shakespeare would be a highly paid Hollywood script writer, or speech writer to US presidents. Or possibly both.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, Katherine, the French king’s daughter, is showing good foresight by taking an English lesson from her maid. It’s a lovely little scene, especially as I know enough French to be able to follow most of it, and these two ladies did it very well. Katherine was suitably pouty at being corrected by her maid, when she’s convinced she’s an excellent student. The exchange lightens the tone nicely, as we’re about to have some really tough scenes, with actual deaths.

Elsewhere in the palace, the king is discussing the situation with his courtiers, and after insulting the English invaders, they get down to business. All the French lords are sent off to tackle the English troops, but the dauphin is told to stay at home with the king, which really annoyed him. He flounced off beautifully in a temper. (Girls will be girls.)

Now Gower and Fluellen are at it again, discussing what’s going on in the fighting, which is elsewhere as it happens. Not that I wish to call these chaps cowards, or anything…. Along comes Pistol, to inform us that Bardolph is to be hanged, and to ask Fluellen to speak up for him, which he refuses to do as discipline is important to him. Pistol heads off in a temper, after passing some choice insults, and Gower and Fluellen get a chance to talk of those knaves who brag about what they’ve done in war, without having actually gone to the trouble of doing it. Pretend war heroes.

The king turns up, and is told of Bardolph’s pending execution. Again, he has to make a choice, and although it’s difficult, he sticks with the kingly role –“We would have all such offenders so cut off”. The French herald turns up again, and delivers some fighting talk. Harry’s response is interesting. He appears to give away too much information by saying that he doesn’t particularly want to fight at the moment, thanks very much, then brags about his troops when they’re fit and well, then accuses the French of being braggarts, then basically ends up by saying, come on then if you think you’re hard enough! Oh and he makes it clear there’ll be no ransom. It’s an intriguing combination of ideas, making him look straightforward, sensible, and capable of handling whatever’s thrown his way. At the end of this scene, as the king leaves the stage, he and we see Bardolph and Nym hanging behind the open doors, and that’s the end of the first half.

To start the second half we get one of the funniest scenes of the whole play, and there aren’t a lot of those to be had in this one. The French, languidly dangling on their trapezes, are waiting for day to break so they can go and kill themselves some Englishmen. That’s if they can find any to kill, because most will probably run off, and there are so few of them anyway, most Frenchmen won’t get a chance if they’re not quick. They pass the time discussing armour and horses, and the dauphin demonstrates rather too much fondness for his horse. Writing poetry in praise of one’s steed is probably over the top in most social circles, and from the reactions of the Constable of France and Orleans, it’s certainly not something to shout about in the French Court. After the dauphin heads off to put on his armour, they bitch about him beautifully, and after a messenger has told them how close the English are, they start champing at the bit to get at them. They even put on some Lancashire accents to make fun of their opponents – very amusing. Their manner was just so contemptuous that it made the whole scene very enjoyable. The dauphin was neighing to emphasise his horse’s attributes, and the Constable caught the bug. He found himself saying “naaaaay” at one point, and looked so disgusted with himself. (Couldn’t find it in the text, presumably an addition.)

Now the play’s spin doctor, Chorus, gets going again with a detailed description of the pre-battle line up. Suitably warmed up, we see Henry conferring with his brothers, and then taking Erpingham’s cloak so he can wander about anonymously among his troops. Firstly he meets Pistol, or rather Pistol emerges from one of the trapdoors. When Pistol finds out that Harry Le Roy is kinsman to Fluellen, he makes a rude gesture and heads off. Not the best of starts for the undercover king.

Next, Fluellen and Gower come on, and Harry listens in. Fluellen is concerned that their camp should be quieter, so that the French won’t overhear them. When Gower points out that French aren’t holding back the noise, Fluellen responds that if the French want to make asses of themselves is that any reason why the English should join in?  A good point, and applicable in many situations. Then three other soldiers come on stage. Harry disputes with them the king’s responsibility for his soldiers’ deaths, and gets into a particular argument with Williams, played by Lex Shrapnel. Echoes of Hotspur to the fore. They exchange gloves, agreeing to challenge each other after the battle, if they both live.

After the soldiers leave, Harry talks us through the burdens of a king. It’s a bit like his father’s complaint when he was having trouble sleeping, but Harry goes into greater detail. This was well delivered, but still I can’t help feeling Harry’s glossing over the problems that other people have, in order to concentrate on and amplify his own. Still, it confirms that he’s not fully comfortable with his kingship yet, although he’s definitely accepted the role of soldier. When Erpingham finds him, he has time for a prayer, which lets us know how much he’s doing to gain pardon for Richard’s death, and then  he’s off to lead his troops into battle.

The next scene in my text shows the French preparing to fight, which I don’t remember clearly at this time, and then we have the build-up to the most rousing speech in Shakespeare. With his captains all talking about the opposition’s strength, and Westmoreland rashly wishing for more troops on their side, Harry comes along and gives us his inspirational “St Crispin’s day” speech. It’s a really good piece of motivational speaking; well, it gets me going, anyway. This time, I wasn’t so aware of the words, more of the emotional sense and the effect the speech has on others. It was lower key than some I’ve heard, but more in keeping with this performance of Henry. It certainly has the desired effect on his men, and after another long rebuke to the French herald, they get down to some serious fighting.

The first sign that the England team might be winning is the arrival of Pistol, the boy and a French noble whom Pistol is attempting to take as his prisoner. The language barrier is proving a bit of a problem, though, and the boy helps out here, having a smattering of French. They do a deal, and head off, leaving the boy to comment on Pistol’s knavery and the lack of protection for the English luggage.

Now the French nobles are running away, having found the English too strong. One noble is determined to fight on, but the rest melt away in shame. Even so, when Henry arrives back on stage, to learn of his brother’s death, and that of Suffolk, the battle’s not completely over, as the French troops have rallied. Henry gives the order for all the French prisoners to be killed, and then it’s back into the action again.

It may have been before or after this scene that we see the boy being killed, as the French attack the luggage. I remember Henry seeing his body as he comes on stage, and being deeply affected. I suspect it happened just before his line “I was not angry since I came to France until this moment.” Either way, he really is in a temper, and ready to lash out at anyone. Not a good time for the French herald to come calling, then. Fortunately, he’s not asking for a surrender this time, he’s asking for leave to collect the French dead and wounded, and this stops Henry’s anger in its tracks. He now seems tired, and unsure of the situation, as he asks who’s won the fight. He is very clear that they had God’s help to do it, and stops for a quick prayer before the comic interlude.

Fluellen is busy reminding the king that his grandfather had fought well in France, and the king is happy to agree, when he catches sight of Williams, wearing the glove he gave him. Henry calls him over and asks about the glove, getting Williams to explain the circumstances, and Fluellen to support Williams’s determination to fight. All quite innocent at the moment. But, after sending Williams off to fetch his captain, Gower, Henry asks Fluellen to wear the other glove, telling him he picked it up during the battle, that it belonged to Alençon, and that anyone who challenges him is a supporter of Alençon and an enemy. Fluellen readily accepts the glove, and the honour that he sees going with the task, and is also sent off to fetch Gower. Henry sends his brother and Warwick after him, to make sure no harm comes to anyone, and follows on after them all. I have no idea why he does this, other than to prevent Williams having to accost the king, which would be embarrassing all round. I suspect it had greater meaning in Will’s time, but at least it came across clearly in terms of what’s going on, even if the why is still vague.

Naturally enough, Fluellen and Williams spot each other and come to blows, or at least nasty words, but Warwick and then the king come along before anyone’s injured. Henry’s challenge to Williams to explain his actions the night before is quite a strong one – he looks like he’s not prepared to forgive and forget that a common soldier had the nerve to treat him the way he did – but Williams mounts a good defence, pointing out that the king was in disguise, and so it’s all his own fault. Said more tactfully, perhaps, but that’s the gist. Henry likes his answer, and gives him money, which Fluellen adds to by another shilling, a bit cheeky I always think. This is the same streak in Henry that we saw in the tavern scenes when he’s baiting Frances, the drawer, to say “Anon, anon, sir”, and it’s not his most attractive side, but at least he recognises the consequences of his actions, and isn’t arbitrarily punishing others for his choices.

Next we hear the roll call of the dead. I find this a moving speech, and here it’s clear that Henry is moved as well, as much by the French losses as the English. As they leave, and Chorus fills in the gaps before Henry meets with the French King (back to London, rapturous welcome, back again to France), the cast bring on coffins, wooden boxes which they place in rows so that they can place a platform over them. I realised what they were doing, and thought it was an interesting point, to see the peace being forged over the dead bodies of the English who fell in battle.

First we see Fluellen forcing Pistol to eat a leek, and then the French court assembles on the platform for the final scenes. It isn’t long before the French king leaves with the English nobles, to sort out the details of the peace treaty, leaving Henry and Katherine to be watched over by Alice. I often think Henry’s speeches at this time are a contradiction. He says he’s no good at wooing speeches, but goes on at great length in flowery terms, which makes him seem a bit of a liar. This time, Henry does come across as a soldier with no great resources in rhetoric, who really would be happier “vaulting into [his] saddle with [his] armour on his back”. Katherine is won over, though rather shocked about being asked to kiss Henry before they’re married, and all ends happily. Chorus adds the finishing touch by informing us that in the next Henry’s reign it would all be lost again, and so the cycle both ends and begins.

It was great to finally see this key production in the cycle, and to have all the threads drawn together so well. I can see why Geoffrey Streatfeild found it easier to play Prince Hal after getting this play under his belt, as it answers so many questions. It was great fun, and I hope we can see it again sometime.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry IV part 1 – January 2008

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Thursday 17th January 2008

This was a huge improvement on the first performance we saw, way back in August last year. At that time, the production seemed terribly under-rehearsed and unsure of itself. Now it’s come together wonderfully, to give us a really good look at this “roaring” play.

The main improvement is in the performance of Hal himself (Geoffrey Streatfeild). From his earlier, rather stiff performance, he’s blossomed into a lively, energetic prince, full of expression and fun, enjoying the tricks he and Poins get up to, and holding his own in banter with Falstaff. He also shows more of the king to be, albeit in small glimpses. When swearing to the king that he would do great deeds which would shine so bright as to obscure his murky past, he was sincere, but it was still bravado – he hasn’t done any of it yet. It was noticeable how the king’s attitude changed as Harry showed his worth on the battlefield; he obviously realised he had been mistaken.

The dialogue with Falstaff came off remarkably clearly. I think the main problem I have with the language in this play is the archaic terms, which make it difficult to follow. It’s easier when the nobles are discussing war plans, as they tend not to get too highfalutin – it’s a practical business, warfare, at least under this regime. But in the playful exchanges down Eastcheap way, the language can stretch and scratch its balls, so to speak, and it often does.

The playfulness between Hal and Falstaff also came across more tonight. I liked the way Hal impersonates his father’s posture when playing him, and his delivery of “I do, I will” gave me the impression of the boy growing up into the man, and seeing what he will have to become. Mistress Quickly’s reactions to Falstaff’s portrayal of the king seemed stronger; she was really enjoying herself tonight. In general, David Warner’s performance as Falstaff seemed more assured. I expect this was partly because Hal himself was giving him more to work with.

The scene with Hotspur ranting and raving went a little better tonight. There’s still too little reaction from his father and uncle though. After a lifetime of listening to the lad shout the odds at every opportunity, you’d think they’d be a bit tired of it by now, but these two were pretty stoic about it all, except when Hotspur’s yelling after the king. I’ve seen it done with much more reaction, and as well as being funnier, it allows the other characters to breathe a bit, too.

I enjoyed the “anon, anon” sketch last time. I could see what Hal was trying to do – get Poor Francis, the drawer, to reply “anon, anon” to everything he says. It’s a pretty shabby trick, but then nobles in Shakespeare’s play don’t always act nobly. The timing didn’t work quite so well tonight, I felt.

The fight between Hal and Hotspur was interesting. Hotspur is obviously the odds-on favourite, with his wealth of experience at killing people, but Hal’s learned some sneaky tricks during his time at Eastcheap, and puts them to good use here. He actually bites Hotspur at a crucial moment, which floors him, literally, and then Hal can finish him off. Except that this Hotspur refuses to be killed. Terminator-like, he heaves himself across the stage, still trying to kill his opponent, but eventually the red eyes flicker and die, as it were, and Hotspur is finally dead. Not that that will settle things. Falstaff’s quick to claim the glory, and here Hal is surprisingly willing to let him, and even seems glad about it. It’s surprising because one of Hal’s reasons for playing the dissolute prince-about-town was to gain all the greater glory when he shows his true colours. I would have thought he’d be at least a little miffed that Falstaff steals his thunder.

For the robbery scene, the almost compulsory rope work was involved, and I liked Bardolph’s interpolations of “shit” and “bollocks” when he couldn’t get up the ropes to get away. I’m sure Will would have approved.

Before the battle, I noticed for the first time that Hotspur’s arguments to his wavering colleagues are identical to those that Hal will use later before the battle of Agincourt. The fewer soldiers, the greater the glory. With Hotspur, I get the impression he’s just saying it for himself, as a natural expression of his belligerent nature. With Hal, it becomes a tremendously stirring speech, designed to rouse his men for battle. This was one of the many ways I see these two characters being contrasted and compared throughout these plays. Both give their fathers concern, though for different reasons. Both have similar attitudes to war and power, and in many ways they could have been great friends. But their respective positions on either side of a power divide make that impossible. It’s similar to the way the king and Falstaff are contrasted as Hal’s two ‘fathers’. It’s debatable how much Hal takes after either of them in the end, although he certainly learns all he can from each.

Another change was that the audience on the far side of the stage was encouraged to stand up to become the “pressed men” referred to in the text. Mildly amusing, perhaps, but I’m not sure how much that sort of thing can be inflicted on an audience. Did they really have to stand up, or could they just have been indicated by the actors? Anyway, it shows this cast are more comfortable working with the audience and playing off them than ever before.

Finally, I really appreciated the diversity of language in this play, after the total verse of Richard II. It made the whole piece seem more alive. And why ‘roaring’? Well, Hotspur roars, Falstaff roars, King Henry roars, Hal roars (occasionally), even Mistress Quickly roars (with laughter). There’s so much roaring in this production that any escaped lions from Dudley zoo would have felt quite at home. As it was, I’m glad there weren’t any lions; it made the whole experience much more enjoyable.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – January 2008

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Wednesday 16th January 2008

At last! I managed to sit through over three hours of drama with hardly a cough! Wonderful. And on top of all that, we got to see a production that has already become an old friend – we shall miss seeing it every few months (only now we’re thinking of doing some of the plays again, in London, so who knows?).

Our seats this time were as far round as you could get, and in the front row. I was a bit worried about the gardening scene, in case we were sprayed, but the chap at the cloakroom reckoned it was the high numbers who were in for a soaking. So much more fun when it’s someone else, isn’t it? We still had a pretty good view, and as well as seeing a different emphasis in some scenes, there were some additional details that I hadn’t seen at all before. It’s possible these were new, though I suspect some were simply hidden from us in the past. There were lots of lines I lost in the first half, as the receiver for the headset was set to the wrong channel – now I know how to deal with that in future – but everything was clear as a bell in the second half. Incidentally, these seats had a different risk – that of getting our eyes poked out by the sword tips that were swishing around, but fortunately no doctor was required.

There were a number of changes that I noticed, and a number of things that struck me this time. There seemed to be a reduced amount of sand falling on Richard. Steve and I remembered it lasting through the Queen’s chat with him. I spotted the eyeing that both the future Henry VI and Queen Margaret gave each other at the end of the gardening scene – another example of carrying the characters through the set of plays. When Bolingbroke refers to himself as “a trueborn Englishman”, I was reminded that Richard was born in France, as Paul Edmondson mentioned this afternoon. Throughout the opening scene, Richard looked scared – I took this to be his fear that Mowbray will implicate him in Gloucester’s death. The ending gave an extra sense of the guilt weighing Henry down, with Richard’s body lying in his coffin at the foot of the steps, and Henry himself finding it harder to walk up them. I also found the explicit use of Bagot as the murderer, in place of Exton, a lot clearer this time. I heard all of the Duchess of Gloucester’s speech this time – nicely done – and in general the performance had the feel of a cast well used to the play, putting in extra details here and there, bringing out even more of the resonances and echoes. At the end, as Richard is dying – he has to have a few lines before he finally snuffs it, of course – he seemed to be hunched over a bit, in reference to the later Richard?

At the start, I was more aware of the formality of the dance, the sound of feet on floor (ballet only seems glamorous till you hear the thuds and thumps), the complete absence of music, and the presence of dead Gloucester. It’s as if we were watching from behind thick glass, as if the sound had been taken away (mostly), and the movements were all. From this point, I was more aware of the spectacle of Richard’s court; that he was all mouth and no action. Paul had also mentioned that this was one of only four plays that Shakespeare had written entirely in verse, and I realised that contributed to the artificial nature of everyone’s behaviour. I can’t remember how long Gloucester stayed on the stage before – this time he left during his widow’s speech.

The preparations for the duel seemed more elaborate than I remember, but that may just have been the different perspective. I did notice that Richard starts out by asking the Marshal to find out who these men were, and why they were here to fight – as if he didn’t know! This added to the theatricality of the proceedings – everyone’s playing a role. (And doesn’t Shakespeare love playing with that idea!) Richard is more dismissive of Henry than I remember, ignoring him after they first speak, and the oath swearing bit was dropped, Mowbray exiting on the line “To dwell in solemn shades of endless  night”.

The next scene, where Richard’s mates are lolling about in comfort while his wife stands around, looking like a spare chastity belt at an orgy, served to give more emphasis to Richard’s dubious relationships. It includes a lovely song which all the men are singing, and which I don’t remember happening before. When Richard arrives to visit John of Gaunt, after a splendid “sceptred isle” I may add, Richard is clearly put out at the way Gaunt refuses to play the part of a loyal, happy subject, fulfilling Richard’s fantasy of himself as a divinely ordained King for whom everything goes wonderfully well. He moves quickly from pampered happiness to pouty sulks, and John of Gaunt’s tongue-lashing gives him plenty of opportunity for that. At first, with Gaunt’s clever punning on his own name, the court is happy, as he seems to be finally joining in with the spirit of the age, but that soon changes.

The Duke of York is even more of a dither when the news comes that Bolingbroke has landed. Northumberland’s flattery of Bolingbroke, by saying that his company has made the journey seem lovelier, is stronger this time, and contrasts really well with the opening of Henry’s reign, when everyone’s being nasty to everyone else, flinging gages right, left and centre. There’s a huge heap of them in the middle of the stage by the time Henry calls for Richard to come and hand over his crown.

Before this, in the scene where Richard arrives back in England, we see both the epitome of Richard’s fantasising, and the beginning of his awakening to reality. He’s up and down like an emotional yo-yo, playing at being a royal king, then despairing and lashing out at supposed betrayers. The language is wonderfully moving, and Scroop’s way of delivering the news tightens the screw beautifully. First off, he’s incredibly long-winded about how bad his news is, then he takes ages to mention minor details like the Duke of York’s gone over to the other side, you don’t have any troops, etc. I found myself feeling more sympathy than usual for Richard at this point. He’s a child-king, never able to develop properly, and that’s as much part of his downfall as his other failings.

Back in hetero-land, Richard’s about to give us some of Will’s best language as he hands over his crown. We reckoned there was less of the physical tug-of-war this time, more emphasis on the language. I could see a bit of Richard’s reflection in the mirror from this side, and I wondered how easy it would be for an actor to play this scene without having a real reflection to look at. A question for another production, I think.

I enjoyed the “pardon” scene, along with its precursor. The duchess actually sits on York’s lap to try and prevent him from going to the king, and she’s just as insistent as ever when she finally turns up at court. After that, it’s just the slaying of the ex-king and the final reports of dead traitors, complete with bloody heads (in bags). The gore and sand were as before – a messy business, these histories.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry IV part 1 – July 2007

2/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Tuesday 31st July 2007

This needs work, but as we were seeing only the fourth performance, that’s not surprising. The press night isn’t for a couple of weeks, and we’re due to see it again in November, so I’ll be interested to see how much it’s come on by then. There’s certainly enough entertaining stuff to hope this will be worked up into a very good production.

The main problem is the unevenness. There’s a lot of roaring and quick-paced dialogue, making it hard to follow what’s going on, interspersed with some slower, static sections, which I felt were a bit dull at times. Falstaff in particular hardly moved in a couple of scenes. I appreciate that as a character he’s not keen on unnecessary movement (unlike Big Brother’s Helen, he probably doesn’t care for blinking), but as a stage performance it drags the energy right down, and makes it harder to tune in to the faster-paced scenes following. Occasionally the onlookers stood in rows at the back, as in the tavern scenes, and it seemed so false. Hopefully that will all be tightened up.

Having said that, I started to enjoy the production during the robbery scene, when Falstaff puts on his disguise – a false nose and moustache! It’s so important that such a dissolute character has at least one semi-redeeming feature, and with Falstaff it’s usually his love of life and his sense of humour. I hope they emphasise these more as they develop the performances.

Hal took a bit of getting used to. He seemed very surly at first, lying in bed with Falstaff, and it was hard to see why he was spending time with him. It was also hard for the people behind us to hear, and the other problem with the static staging was that it kept the characters further back than was acoustically helpful.  Hal did develop a bit into the honourable prince role, but as I couldn’t make out much in the expressions, I possibly lost some of the detail. The fight scene with Percy looked a little shaky still, but practice will take care of that.

Hotspur himself was the usual firebrand, but he lacked definition in his speech, so that we lost most of the lovely comedy when he constantly drowns out his uncle, Worcester. In a few scenes he was fine, and the lines came across very clearly – his explanation of Henry’s faults and an earlier scene back home just before he heads off for Wales – but mostly it was a jumble, though not through lack of volume. His scene with Glendower just lacks a little oomph – we need to see more of Glendower’s arrogance and pride about his birth, to set off Hotspur’s total lack of social skills in denouncing the significance of the trembling ground. I think it’s important to see how incompatible Henry’s opponents are, to fully appreciate their eventual destruction and Henry’s unifying effect (which is sadly lost a couple of generations later).

King Henry’s performance was very interesting. At the start, I noticed a reprise of some of the work done in The Pilate Workshop, where Pilate washes his hands at a table covered in a white cloth. He uses a basin, with a jug beside it. I’m not sure if the candlesticks were also there, but I wouldn’t be surprised. As Clive Wood played Pilate, perhaps he suggested it to Michael Boyd? Anyway, there’s a biblical reference just afterwards, as Henry begins to speak, so the symbolical washing of hands fits very well, emphasising the guilt and the political concerns that Henry has at this point, having provoked Richard’s death, if not directly caused it. His performance continued strongly throughout, and looks like it could provide the strong bedrock for the whole production to flourish. I particularly liked his references to Hal showing himself too much to the public, as Richard had, which was supported by the choice of costumes. Henry is still in solid black, while Hal sports a more cheerful off-white, with hints of the flounces and ruffs of Richard’s over-the-top drag act. (I mean that in the nicest possible way!) It also made me wonder what’s going on, as in Richard II it’s Bolingbroke who seems to court the public, but perhaps it simply indicates the newspeak of the new court – reality is as he says it is.

Falstaff (David Warner) took a while to get going. Perhaps it’s the static staging as mentioned before, perhaps it’s just taking a while for the character to click, but there are glimpses of how good this could be. His story of how 2/4/7/9/82 (or whatever) men attacked him, was very entertaining, and benefited from good reactions from the onlookers, especially Hal and Poins, of course. In fact, the lack of reactions from others on stage was a definite weakness throughout the production, which I hope will be addressed. I’m realising what a difference it makes to my interest in a speech if the other actors don’t look too involved in it themselves. This was particularly true with the Hotspur ranting mentioned earlier – a lot of the comedy I’ve seen before tends to come from his father and uncle’s reactions to his over-the-top tirades. Falstaff’s dislike of honour came across very well, too, although it took a while to get going. His “killing” of Hotspur certainly had the comedy, but I feel there’s more to come with this situation yet.

I liked the way the King’s men came on for the battle of Shrewsbury, backlit in the central doorway, moving slowly in unison, with slow-motion sword play. I spotted they all had crowns on, though not straightaway, and this points up the fact that Henry has several doppelgangers in his army, which the Douglas decides to kill off one by one. He does actually come across the real king, and I think he’s the one who refers to him as a counterfeit king (?). I felt this was a very apt line, as Henry has usurped the crown, and that’s what’s triggered all the coming bloodshed, and given Will so much to write about. I really got a sense of that tonight; that once Richard was deposed, never mind killed, the crown was up for grabs, and with Edward III’s proficiency at providing heirs, it would take a long time to work through all the options. There’s a great sense of the future reaching back through time and the past reaching forward through time with this cycle, and I’m enjoying seeing pre-echoes as well as post-echoes in all the plays.

The ending sets us up nicely for part 2. All the dangling ropes from the battle scenes were tied up into nooses, again reminding us that there will be deaths now the battle is won, but also foreshadowing more deaths from future battles. Then we see Henry’s remaining opponents lined up in the tower’s gallery, while Henry and his followers are ranged below them. As the lights go down, you just know there’s trouble to come.

There was a fair bit of coughing during the performance, which I found distracting occasionally. I was also aware of the lighting a couple of times during the battle scenes. When Hotspur dies, the bright white light that had bathed the stage went out, leaving it rather starkly lit, and I found it rather unwelcoming and distancing. Other than that, I only noticed the lighting when it was effective, such as at the start of the battle.

Steve saw an analogy with pre-season matches, where the players can be a bit ropy till they get their touch back. I predict promotion this season, based on this friendly, but they will need to spend some time on their set pieces.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – July 2007

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Monday 30th July 2007

This could take a while. It was a great production, and some great performances. Well, actually all the cast were great, and I liked lots about the staging and ideas and echoes of earlier/later themes. What’s coming out of this year’s work is the element of time – plays written earlier which are later chronologically, and the echoes backwards and forwards.

Before each of these plays, we were treated to the usual announcement about switching off mobile phones, etc. A different actor came on each night, and there were some entertaining variations on the theme. Tonight’s announcemen was pretty straightforward, although he did advise us not to switch off pacemakers!

The start of the play was good. The other characters, led by Bagot, all came on in stately procession, moving slowly, and performing some kind of stately dance, with lots of bowing and courtesies, while Richard II walked on through the auditorium, accepting all the bowing and scraping as nothing less than his due. Jonathan Slinger was done up as Elizabeth I – effectively Queen Richard II. He played the part as very effeminate, very wimpish (I could understand why some of the hetero lords wanted rid of him) and very immature. I was thinking it might be difficult to move from there to Richard’s later awareness of the superficiality of it all, but he handled that very well, with the gradual stripping away of his finery underlining the changes. There was still an element of petulance in his telling Percy that his cosy relationship with Henry IV wouldn’t last, but his desperate understanding of his situation in his prison cell was very moving. I became aware of how in Shakespeare’s time, not having decent TV, they might spend time comparing and contrasting situations, just for fun, and Richard’s forcing of the issue, then coming up with a very good metaphor for humanity and its foibles, worked very well.

Mowbray and Bolingbroke complimented the King at the opening to the dispute scene, and I felt Mowbray was trying to outdo Bolingbroke, reminiscent of the opening of King Lear. I couldn’t see Richard’s responses to much of the Bolingbroke/Mowbray dispute, but for once I was really sad to see him break up the fight. They’d set up two jousting horses (suspended saddles) and it looked like we might have some fun, but then Richard threw his baton at a lady in the front row and it was all over. [Turns out the jousting is specifically referenced in Henry IV part 2, so although cumbersome I suspect this may stay.]

Tonight we had a very good John of Gaunt pre-death scene. He came across as really ill, and it was all he could do to get his lines out. Not too surprising he didn’t last much longer. Richard was wonderfully temperamental – at first consoling, then snappy, then pious, then practical about nicking his dead uncle’s dosh and never mind the rightful heir.

There was some unexpected and presumably unwelcome audience participation tonight during the gardeners’ scene. The head gardener was John of Gaunt, still wearing the same clothes, so this was similar to when the dead bodies were recycled in the Henry VI trilogy. He sprayed some folk off to our right with water (he was carrying a hose) and Chuk Iwuji, as the other gardener, looked a bit too keen to use his shears. No dancing nun this time, sadly, but still a good scene overall, with some telling points made about the importance of managing the country well (one of Will’s hobby horses, that).

With Bolingbroke’s return, the difference between him and Richard is emphasised by his much plainer dress sense, and his refusal to be seduced by flattery. When Percy tried to brown-nose Henry about how his wonderful company made the long journey shorter, Henry just ignored him, and I fancied there was a slight look of distaste in his expression. He also communicates more directly and is far more business-like in his dealings. When he meets the Duke of York, tasked with protecting the realm while Richard is away, he gets a good telling off from his uncle for coming back, but then the Duke admits that he can’t do anything to stop him, so invites him in for dinner. I haven’t seen the character played as so weak before. He’s also in much more of a dither when trying to handle the crisis earlier, more so than I’ve seen before.

In the deposition scene, the passing of the crown was fine, with just enough of a lingering feel to it. If anything, Richard was more sparky than earlier, standing up for himself more now there’s nothing more to lose. He tore off his wig and wiped off his makeup as he deposes himself. I didn’t see that bit clearly, but then he has his own face as he looks in the mirror, which was a safety mirror so it didn’t shatter when he smashed it down. Later, for the farewell scene with his wife, there was some kind of dust raining down on his head for a long time – what was it? [sand, we discovered] I wondered how he could breathe and speak his lines. It did suggest a washing off of the anointing, and his transformation into a penitent.

During the second challenge scene, the vast number of gauntlets was really funny. It’s interesting that after accusing Mowbray, Henry now seems to be investigating what actually happened – or is it just a ploy to get rid of a political opponent? What is going on here?

For the Aumerle pardoning scene, it’s the first time I’ve seen other people come on stage with the Duke of York. Percy keeps the door shut on the Duchess, but you can’t keep Maureen Beattie off stage for long. (More than his life’s worth!) Richard Cordery as the Duke of York was glowering magnificently as his wife pleads for her son’s life. Even before he fell to his knees to plead against the pardon, he was well unhappy, and it showed.

Bagot took the role of murderer this time. He came down playing the piano, with a mask on. [Apparently the harness he had to wear meant a lot of talcum powder was used!] Chuk Iwuji played the groom, and there were three other knights with masks who came to kill the king, but he managed to fight them off, with Bagot killing him in the end. Richard’s dead body was dragged off by an arm and a leg, creating a swathe of blood on the stage – reminiscent of the pool of gore in the original Henry VI part 3. Lots of traitors’ heads were brought on in bags for the final scene and dumped in front of Henry, who was sitting on the steps which Richard stood on earlier.

Chuk Iwuji wafted around doing various messenger jobs, having started off as Thomas of Woodstock’s dead body, and this casting emphasised the haunting aspects of the play. Katy Stephens as the Duchess of Gloucester (still married to Chuk, I see) also pre-echoed the revenge theme with her tirade against her husband’s death.

Other things to mention: Richard had a lot of costume changes, reflecting both his descent from power and the opulence he lives in initially. The music was lovely, with some haunting singing which set up a good atmosphere for this staging. There was a strange light bulb sculpture – what was that for? It was interesting, but I’m not clear about its purpose.

I couldn’t possibly get down all my impressions of this performance, as there was so much detail, and so much I liked. I’m very much looking forward to seeing it again, and also seeing the way this play sets up the rest of the history cycle in these productions.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard III – February 2007

6/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

Coming at the end of a long day’s play watching, it’s not too surprising that I felt a bit overdone by the end of the evening. I did enjoy this production, however, although my mind wasn’t as sharp as it might have been.

I don’t need to go through the story for this one. There were a few edits that I noticed, specifically the reference to time when Buckingham is asking Richard for his promised reward. On the whole, though, this seemed a fairly complete reading, and carried on where the Henry VIs had left off.

This play is much more about the political manoeuvring between the various factions and Richard’s manipulation of everyone, with the battle being saved for the final scenes. As a result, it seemed calmer than the prequels, though there’s still a lot of action. Richard does bustle about in his efforts to get the throne, and Jonathan Slinger reflected that in his performance. It’s always interesting to see how much Richard is in command and how much he’s winging it. Here I would say he’s more of a brash gambler, making his play and putting heart and soul into it. If it doesn’t come off, too bad, but he’ll do everything he can to make it happen.

The wooing of Anne was successful, as usual, but I wasn’t fully convinced he’d pulled it off. Richard’s manner rarely changed; he was much the same throughout the play, so there was less light and shade than I’m used to (or should that be shade and darkness). I felt the humour was being worked at a little too hard at times, though it was all still enjoyable. The build up to this play through the previous two was excellent, and so his character was already developed from the off.

Mad Margaret, played by Katy Stephens, was the best I’ve seen, all fire and venom. Her character had become more bitter through her experiences, and she could still talk. Which is just as well, because that’s what her character’s there for – to tell all the others just how bad things are, how much worse they’re going to get, and how much she hates them all.

For this play, they were using modern weapons and we heard helicopters overhead. It can be a little awkward doing this when there are so many references to swords, but I felt they handled it very well. The scene where Richard is pretending to the Mayor of London that he’s under attack was staged with him and Buckingham besieged behind an overturned table, looking like there was a house to house gun battle raging. They convinced the Mayor enough to make him nervous too, although as he probably grasped something of the political situation he was getting involved in, he’d have been nervous anyway.

That’s all I can remember now, after a long gap. I made a cryptic note about the murders and the execution of the second murderer, but that will have to wait till we see them again next February. Hopefully it will all make sense then. I also remember that the ghosts before the battle were well done, but don’t recall the detail.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 3 – February 2007

6/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

The civil war is now well under way, and poor Henry is going to be in and out of captivity a number of times during the period of this play. Actually, you could argue that he’s never out of captivity by this time, as both sides treat him as little more than a pawn, including his own people. We get straight into the action, with the Yorkists taking control of the parliament building, and setting Richard, Duke of York, on the throne. This is also our first sight of his son, Richard, of whom more later.

Henry turns up, with his backers, and they’re all riled up at York’s effrontery. Henry, however, is as peace-loving as ever – don’t you just want to give him a good slap? Basically the two sides have a slanging match, and even Henry says some strong words. He tries to argue his right, but York’s points cause one of Henry’s supporters to change sides, which leads Henry to waver (not that it takes much to do that). He offers a compromise – let him reign as King for his lifetime and the crown will then pass to York and his heirs. Sounds good, doesn’t it, but Henry has a son, and, more importantly, a wife, who will not take this lying down. There certainly will be trouble ahead. Sit back and enjoy.

Sure enough, immediately after York and his followers leave, the Queen turns up, with their son, and gives Henry an earful. Boy, can she talk. She’s along the same lines as Lady Macbeth, but much more talkative, and nothing like so successful at getting her husband to do his manly duty. So she heads off to get her army and start sorting out the mess her husband has got her into. (If you want a job done properly…)

Meanwhile, up in Yorkshire, York’s sons, especially young Richard (what a little scamp!), have persuaded their father to claim his crown now, not wait till Henry dies. Just at that moment, the Queen turns up with her army and besieges them. Battle ensues, and little Rutland, York’s youngest, is caught by the Queen’s troops and slain, along with his tutor. It’s a pitiable sight, but his slayer, Clifford, has already lost his father in the fighting, and has no compunction in killing a child. We get to see the depths people sink to when civil war rampages through a country, and, sadly, there are all too many modern counterparts around.

York himself is caught by the Queen, and put through worse abuse than being killed. They mock him as a pretend king, standing him on a molehill, and telling him about the loss of Rutland. The Queen even has a napkin, soaked in Rutland’s blood, which she gives him. She puts a paper crown on his head, and continues to mock him while he suffers. Fortunately, she allows him time to speak before they kill him, which has one great benefit – it gives Shakespeare an opportunity to write York some fine vitriolic lines to balance hers. It’s a wonderfully emotional speech, and this performance was very moving. Then they kill him.

Next we see Edward and Richard as they wonder what’s happened to their father. As they talk, the sun is rising, and they apparently see three suns. Taking this as a good omen, Edward vows to show three suns on his shield. Warwick joins them, and there’s a lot of military verbalising (boys will be boys), until the messenger tells them the Queen’s army is nearby again, and they head off for another battle. This would almost be boring if it wasn’t for the marvellous language and the way this production gets the last scrap of humour out of it.

Again, there’s a long slanging match between the two armies, and another battle, with Richard showing himself a willing fighter. In the midst of all this, what’s King Henry doing? Why, he’s sitting in the middle of a field, ruminating, as you do, thinking how nice it would be to be an ordinary man, no royal responsibilities, just a simple life. As he sits there, a young man enters with a dead body – it’s someone he’s killed in the battle. As he checks the body for plunder, he realises he’s killed his own father, and is stricken with remorse. Then they flip round, and turn into an old man who’s slain a young one. The same revelation follows, only this time the man has killed his own son. King Henry observes all this and is quick to empathise with these men’s losses. Even so, he considers himself worse off than them. (I don’t agree – after all, it’s his wishy-washiness that’s partly caused all these killings, so suck it up!)

A dying Clifford is left on the battlefield after the rest of the Queen’s troops have fled, and Edward and his followers spare him nothing in revenge for the death of York. Fortunately for Clifford, he’s already dead before they get going, so he’s well out of it. Now Warwick decides to go to France, to ask the French King for his sister’s hand for Edward. Richard is given the Dukedom of Gloucester, and George that of Clarence, but Richard asks to change, as Gloucester is “too ominous”. Edward doesn’t take him seriously (silly boy).

King Henry, having escaped to Scotland with his wife, decides to revisit his own country, and gets captured by a couple of game keepers. This leads to an interesting exchange on allegiance, as the keepers were originally Henry’s sworn subjects, and he’s not dead, yet now they’re Edward’s loyal subjects. Fortunately, Henry’s a pretty cooperative chap, so he goes along with them to prison. Back in London, Edward, now King Edward, is dealing with the granting of favours. One Lady Grey, whose husband died fighting for the Yorkists, has come to ask for her husband’s lands to be restored to her. Edward is so taken with her, he gives her half of England! He woos her, overcomes her resistance, marries her, and all without letting Warwick know about this change of plans. (I see more trouble ahead.)

It’s at this time that we get the first taste of Richard’s lust for power. Just after Edward’s asked his brothers what they think of his choice of Lady Grey as his Queen, Richard is left alone on stage to tell us all about his ambitions. He’s not sure yet how to get the crown, as there are just too many people in his way, but he’ll figure it out, never worry.

Over in the French court, Queen Margaret is well received, but the French King’s courtesies are hollow when faced with the political reality. Henry is in prison, Edward on the throne, and the King would be foolish to back the recent evictee over the man in possession. Warwick, so full of bluster, is dissing Margaret and her companions’ claims, and getting well in with the French King, so the news of Edward’s marriage comes as a pretty big shock. So big, in fact, that Warwick immediately changes sides. Well, he considers himself the power behind the throne, and to find out he’s not hurts his massive ego beyond endurance. Margaret, meantime, has pounced on the news like a ravenous dog given a big meaty bone. She’s the consummate politician, immediately ready to accept Warwick’s offer of friendship and support to restore Henry to the throne, despite their previous contempt and bickering.

In all of this, I feel sorry for the Lady Bona, sister of the French King, as she’s been bartered for and then dumped. Naturally, she encourages her brother to lend support to the Lancastrians, to revenge the slight on her, and who can blame her? She even has to put up with another political match being arranged right under her nose, as to ensure his loyalty, Warwick agrees to marry his daughter to Edward, Henry’s son.

Back in England, Edward’s marriage is causing some divisions. Obviously all the new in-laws have to be given titles and well-connected brides, so there are fewer for his own brothers to snaffle. Also, there’s a message from Warwick, sending in his resignation and declaring war. (You just can’t do that in a text.) On hearing that Warwick’s daughter is to marry Edward (sorry, all these repetitive names do get a bit confusing), Clarence decides to change sides, and nips off to marry Warwick’s other daughter. Frankly, it all makes Dallas look a bit tame.

So off we go to battle again. Edward (the King, this time), is captured, then freed, Henry, now King again, hands all power to Warwick, who argues that Clarence should take precedence (will wonders never cease?), Edward gets help from Burgundy, fight, fight, battle, fight, then Clarence changes sides again, and finally Edward’s forces capture Margaret and her son, kill him, take Henry prisoner, and it’s all over (till the next play). Whew!

The final scene shows the happy York family enjoying the fruits of warfare. I’ll never forget the wonderful ESC production which set this in Edwardian times (appropriately enough), ending with a final line from Richard (Andrew Jarvis) “Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York”. This production echoes that slightly, by again having all the other actors towards the back, laughing and having a good time, while Richard comes forward, stands at the front of the stage, says “Now”, and then the lights go out.

Again, I felt the political shenanigans came across very well in this version, and there was even more humour as Richard, that shalt be King hereafter, gets into his stride. It’s an impressive feat to keep the audience interested in such complicated toing and froing, but Michael Boyd and his talented cast manage it very well. The use of slow motion and silhouettes continued, to good effect. I still found the energetic fighting a bit difficult to like. It may just be battle fatigue given current events, but in many ways I’m happy to feel like this. Raw patriotic fervour is all very well, but these battles are not helping anyone but the ambitious and proud.

In some ways, I would have liked to have had more time to absorb this performance on its own, before plunging into Richard III. We’ll be doing them again early next year, hopefully, so I may have more thoughts then, as well as commenting on ways in which the production has moved on.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 2 – February 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

At the end of the previous play, we had seen Margaret’s picture presented to the King – basically, the actress herself standing in a large picture frame, wheeled on to the stage. This framing device was used several times throughout the series, sometimes lowered down from above. As this play starts, Margaret arrives in person, to be presented to the King by Suffolk, who has married her in France as the King’s stand-in (and carried through with the nuptials?). All is well, until Gloucester, as regent, reads the marriage contract, and discovers that the bulk of the English holdings in France are to be given to Margaret’s father, while she herself comes without a dowry. As Henry takes his new bride off to be crowned, the leading nobles thoughtfully remain on stage so we can eavesdrop on their discussion.

They’re not happy bunnies, not one of them. The only slightly positive prospect is that they might unite against this foolishness of the king, but no, they still bicker and fight amongst themselves, with the naughty Cardinal seeing this as an opportunity to oust Gloucester, and the regent being concerned about England’s wealth and prosperity. Others take sides, and Richard, Duke of York is already planning to take the crown he believes he deserves. I see trouble ahead. The scene was well played, and got across the deepening divides in English government circles. (And you think Tony vs. Gordon is bad!)

Next we see the Duchess of Gloucester, a prototype for Lady Macbeth, trying to seduce her husband into bidding for the crown himself. It’s all glossed over as being a dream, but we can see she’s an ambitious lady, and when her husband leaves to join the king, she arranges a session with occult practitioners, to get more information on her glorious destiny (Maureen Beattie can play an obsessed woman to perfection). Unfortunately, the chap who’s organising all this is in the pay of the Cardinal and Suffolk – more plotting and machinations. He’s also played by Jonathan Slinger, as he’s not yet got going as Richard, so we know he’s up to no good as soon as we see him. He’s pumping up her fantasies, as if they needed it, helping her rise to a greater fall.

The political divisions are reinforced with the following scene, where several petitioners are looking for the Lord Protector to give him their petitions, and are intercepted by the Queen and her “close” supporter, Suffolk. Their petitions to the Lord Protector wind the Queen up terribly – she wants to be the wife of a powerful king, and resents the airs and graces which the Duchess of Gloucester has been putting on. The battleground is set, and now we’re going to watch several hours of it all unfolding.

Bickering and dissension flare up even more in the English court, and Henry, poor benighted soul, manages to make the worst possible decision, by selecting two sworn enemies to act as regent in France. Gloucester shows his wit and wisdom during a hunting scene, by shrewdly making a chap who’s pretending to have been cured of blindness expose himself as a liar.  Unfortunately, the trap has already closed around his wife, and her disgrace leads to his inevitable dismissal as Lord Protector.  The wolves gather.

Richard, Duke of York (Richard III’s daddy), explains his claim to the throne to Salisbury and Warwick, using stones to demonstrate the bloodlines from Edward III. His reasoning is clear, if a trifle long-winded and both men agree to support him in his claim. Meanwhile Gloucester, now unprotected, is brought down by the scheming court, and France is lost to the English crown. What more could possibly go wrong?

Well, Ireland rebels, and York is sent off to deal with it. Gloucester is bumped off, and Warwick and Suffolk square up to each other, Warwick accusing Suffolk of the deed (accurately), and Suffolk brazening it out. However, the commons make a temporary impact on the play, by demanding that Suffolk be executed or banished immediately for Gloucester’s death, so the King banishes him. His final scene with Margaret is almost touching, given that they’re a pair of villains. Oh, and the Cardinal also dies, and Suffolk is killed by some sailors when trying to go abroad, as revenge for Duke Humphrey’s death. So with several of the troublemakers now dead, will things be more peaceful? Not a chance.

To keep the country unsettled, the Duke of York has arranged for Jack Cade to lead a revolt of the common people, claiming that he’s the rightful heir. He’s soon defeated, but not before giving us a potentially entertaining look at what the country would be like if the less well educated were running the show. They even get someone up from the audience, and take them off to be executed! (But they came back again, whew.) On the Duke’s return, demanding that Somerset be thrown into the tower as a traitor, the real quarrel breaks the surface, and York announces his claim to the throne. Civil war has begun. The play ends with the first battle, a Yorkist win, but more is to come.

One aspect of the staging that I particularly liked was the recycling of the dead bodies, and there are plenty of those in this play. Gloucester, the Cardinal, Suffolk and the rest, all reappear during the play, especially during the Jack Cade sequence, as ghostly versions of themselves, and as participants in the action. It’s noticeable that the Duke of Gloucester and the Cardinal have got over their spat since their deaths – it’s nice to see them working together for a change. It was also interesting to see how this gave a very strong sense of the killings all being linked, and of the death toll mounting up and building even higher. And in many ways it reduced the confusion there can sometimes be in these plays, as actors are reused in different parts. Instead of having to stop and think who’s playing what part, I found I could just relax and go with it. Plus you have to get those dead bodies off stage somehow, so why not under their own steam? They’re also helped by a kind of Death figure, played by Antony Bunsee, who opens the doors at the back for them as they leave for the other world.

Another theme that worked its way through the whole set was bones and stones. York uses stones to show his claim, and bones appear several times during the plays – the conjuring scene, a scene with Joan of Arc, etc. I wasn’t sure what this meant, but with such a long time span to cover, I feel it helps to bind the plays together. Also, there’s a lot of prophecy in these plays, which can seem a bit redundant in some ways. After all, Shakespeare’s audience knew their recent-ish history pretty well, I assume, so they’re not going to be surprised at the twists and turns. I suspect this is a way of reassuring the audience, of letting us know that we’re in safe hands – a kind of “Next week, on Henry VI” trail of forthcoming attractions. Perhaps he’s also being a bit tongue-in-cheek, knowing full well his audience knows the story, and also knowing that several characters take the prophecies the wrong way.

While I found the political machinations much clearer this time, I still found the sheer number of characters confusing. Many are scarcely introduced to us before they’re deeply involved in the action, so that it’s hard to keep track of who’s who, apart from the major players. Perhaps Will was getting a bit carried away with having a large, talented ensemble to work with? We may never know.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 1 – February 2007

6/10

By: WIlliam Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Friday 9th February 2007

I’d forgotten so much about these plays, and this production, that I felt I was watching these for the first time tonight, until I recognised some of the things that I hadn’t enjoyed so much first time round. Firstly, the music. I liked it most of the time, but occasionally it continued to drone on over and behind the dialogue, making it harder to hear what was going on. The smoke machine was fully warmed up by the end of the evening as well, as everything from wisps of mist to full-on fog rolled out of various apertures throughout the performance. I remember being practically choked by the fog at the start of Richard III many years ago – fortunately, this wasn’t so bad.

I also recognised many of the actors who performed tonight, including Keith Bartlett as Talbot, who presumably remembered a lot of his lines from playing the part last time round. Jonathan Slinger, who’s playing Richard III later in the cycle, was preparing us for that role with a bit of limp and the suggestion of a shoulder, as he played the Bastard of Orleans – an unfortunate name, I always feel. Clive Wood, as Richard, Duke of York, also hinted as his son’s deformity during the scene with Joan of Arc, by adopting the crookback and grimacing – both nice touches. I shall watch for more hints during the next two plays, when Richard of Gloucester makes his appearance.

The set we saw during the Two Gents production (many moons ago now) was indeed the Henrys set – very industrial looking, with a large spiral staircase encased in a metal tube centrally placed towards the back of the stage. It allowed for a balcony, and the two big doors at the bottom were regularly thrown open and clanged shut to set scenes for us. One staging that was repeated through this play, and, I suspect, the others, was to have a phalanx of people standing in the doorway, with lights behind throwing them into silhouette, giving an impression of a mass of people. They entered slowly, demonstrating the power of the particular group, and in the case of Henry VI’s coronation in France, this emphasised the bitter discord amongst the English nobility, as the group breaks apart suddenly and descends instantly into vicious bickering. Poor Henry, young as he is, does all he can to broker a peace deal, but only ends up making things worse. Firstly, he picks one of the faction’s symbols to try to encourage both sides to overlook their differences – a tricky manoeuvre at the best of times – and then he expects two enemies to work together to further England’s interests in France, without staying to keep an eye on things himself. It’s an excellent portrayal of how a weak ruler can make problems worse rather than better. Reminds me of last night’s King of Hearts, where the Prime Minister understood the need to have a hated right-hand woman, someone who could get tough on dissenting voices within his own party – Henry could have done with one of those.

The Joan of Arc storyline is always a little disappointing from my point of view, but I can understand why Shakespeare wrote it as he did, especially given the nature of the religious troubles at the time. He couldn’t very well have portrayed a French Catholic heroine in his plays – the public, and very probably the Lord Chamberlain, might not have appreciated it. Still, I do find it difficult to accept this version of her story, and tonight that was made worse by the warfare element. I accept that this is exactly what Shakespeare’s writing about, but perhaps our recent and current involvement in war is making me less willing to enjoy representations of the “glory” of war on stage. Talbot is an heroic character, true, and does represent many good virtues – loyalty, unselfish service to his King and country, heroism in battle, etc. – but it’s hard at the moment to be enthralled by battle stories, winning or losing.

The political element is much easier to take, although I was finding it hard to hear the lines tonight – one of the problems of a large thrust stage with so many characters milling about. Geoffrey Freshwater is playing a wonderfully villainous Bishop/Cardinal, whose feud with the Lord Protector will, I fear, end in tears for all concerned. The Lord Protector may be less at fault, but he’s not very effective at controlling the malicious cleric. In fact, he’s not much cop at controlling anything. He sets up a perfectly good match for the King, only to have it overturned once Suffolk seduces Henry with his descriptions of Margaret, daughter of the King of Naples and Suffolk‘s intended mistress. Margaret, doubled with Joan, is a saucy temptress. Looking like a 40s vamp, she’ll be more than a match for most of these men.

I liked the three women who played Joan’s “fiends”. They wore simple red dresses, and emitted strange, low humming sounds, with some crooning noises, which were disturbing and beautiful at the same time. They also joined in the fighting, lining up behind Joan and following her movements as she fenced with first the King and then Talbot, indicating the extra strength she received from them. They also assisted in “persuading” the Duke of Burgundy to re-enlist with the French forces.

There was copious use of ladders, trap doors, and a lowered platform to create different spaces. Sometimes I feel this goes too far, and distracts from the performances. For example, when Talbot’s men swing in from the sides of the gallery, they pair up, hanging over the middle of the stage, and to keep them together, one attaches his line to the other’s, so they can point their weapons. It looks really clumsy. Then, to release themselves, they have to unclip the lines and swing back again – all fine from a health and safety point of view, but not much cop from a dramatic perspective.

Chuk Iwuji was good as Henry, all youth and innocence, coupled with good intentions. I enjoyed seeing John Mackay again. He played Sir Andrew Aguecheek in the last Twelfth Night, and made him both comic and sympathetic. Here he’s the Dauphin, and it’s clear this Dauphin is anything but in charge in France. Much like Henry in England, in fact – they’re well matched in a strange way.

Our seats were fine, and very comfortable – which is just as well, as we’re in the same ones for all four productions! Roll on the rest of the cycle.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me