Having been a fan of Henry IV Part 1 for many
years now, I feel obliged to present my own addition to Becky’s already ample
review.
You’ve already read Becky’s review (and if you
haven’t, go do so here) and so assuming you’ve got the Henry basics down by
now, I’m just going to jump straight in.
Crucial to this tale of a wayward prince’s return
to honour in defence of his father, is the Bard’s slick use of contrast. Much
like a modern day domestic soap opera, no sooner have we settled into one group
dynamic, be it that of the court, the rebels or the tavern, than some imaginary
narrator figure clicks their fingers and we’re propelled headlong into a whole
new atmosphere, usually one the total antithesis of the place we’ve just left.
The play just wouldn’t work without it, and Richard
Eyre’s version captures it beautifully. I’m not usually one to praise scene shortening
in adaptations, primarily because it means I then feel the need to explain the
missing bits to everyone else in the near vicinity, but here, the editing
marries the different plotlines together in a way which does not take away from
the original pattern, but adds to it. Moving slyly from scene to scene, Eyre’s adaptation
catapults Hal’s coming of age (and sobriety) story into something more epic,
clever, heartfelt and ultimately more modern than I’ve seen this play before.
The magic of cinema, as it were, and as Becky has
already mentioned, allows it a bigger
scale than previously, the real terror and grit of war coming across in the
frost bitten, blood soaked battle scenes. The wardrobe and set decisions fit
the brief, too. In fact I’d like to take my hat off immediately to whoever had
the idea of putting Hal in a vaguely Elizabethan leather jacket, and you can
almost smell the beer from the tavern scenes and feel the laughter reverberating
from the walls.
It all feels generously updated, cinematic and
well thought out.
Ultimately though, it’s the performances in this
production that make it feel as thoroughly modern as it has long deserved to
be. Eyre’s shift in focus from the
history of the play to the relationships within it puts to bed my one traditional
criticism of this play- the slightly two dimensional nature of its main
characters. All too frequently they are concepts
and symbols for directors to play with before they are people, and we can only
guess at their inner world. Not so here.
Eyre’s cut and paste approach to the longer speeches comes into its own, and we’re
given much needed proof that there’s more in the heads of Hal and Falstaff than
big ideas, ego and booze.
Speaking of Hal, kicking the notable performances
list off in style is Tom Hiddleston’s Prince. I’ve long thought Harry Monmouth
the original lovable rogue, and Hiddlseton shows him off for exactly what he
is. He’s sexy, suave and self-centred but with enough of a prankster’s cheeky
streak to make you fall head over heels for Shakespeare’s most dapper royal
regardless. Here he’s a joy to watch, with Hiddleston’s inclusive and
charismatic performance making you not only want to be a part of his gang, but really
feel that you’re in on the joke, whichever one it is at the time, every step of
the way.
Eyre also goes to town on the gleeful closeness and
camaraderie of Hal and best pal Poins (one of our beloved Unsung Heroes),
who, through a combination of careful direction and well-timed close-ups, is finally
brought to the foreground not as a plot device, but as an accomplice in his own
right. (Hooray!)
The pivotal relationship between Hal and Falstaff is
just as spot on, with the score brought in at key moments to highlight their
tragic co-dependence. It’s not hugely subtle, but it does the job, and again,
they all feel like real people you could meet down your local of a Friday
night, rather than stuffed up Received Pronunciation cut outs.
Hostpur, I had a few initial problems with. Apologies, Becky. Brilliant
though Joe Armstrong’s performance is, I just didn’t feel the parallels between
himself and fellow Harry, Prince Hal, were as obvious as they should be for the
play’s intricate design to be seen at its best.
But then I decided that I’d missed the point. It
does happen, from time to time. I decided that Eyre’s Hotspur wasn’t an obvious
parallel, not in error, but precisely because he wasn’t supposed to be. You wouldn’t
get two similar looking kids, both born of power, born on the exact same today
and mirroring each other’s stance and booming voices in a modern drama or in
reality for that matter, and so you don’t here. Hotspur suitably rants and
raves enough to do his name proud, but again he’s a character in his own right,
with his own motivations and merriments- not just there as a mirror image of
his adversary.
Oh and Julie Walters? A born Mistress Quickly, a
fantastic casting coup and a great excuse to have her sat in a pub with an
equally grubby looking Maxine Peake.
The effect of all of the above is that this production
feels more like an action film, the story of which could have been thought up
last week, not an adaptation of a play from four hundred years ago, based on an
even older story. Its blend of domestic drama, friendship and battle drama is
alive and well here, and as a result we can empathise with its characters and
see ourselves and our friends in them more than we ever have.
It’s gritty, edgy and even tragic, but most of all
it’s just gloriously good fun.
And you can’t say fairer than that for a play set
in a tavern.
- Jen
You can read more of Jen's writing here: www.memyselfandtheothers.wordpress.com
And can follow her on twitter here: www.twitter.com/jenniferklarge
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