Henry IV (part I)

So there was this Shakespeare guy who lived a bunch of years ago. He wrote about kings and shit.

Where to begin?  "Two houses, both alike in dignity...." No, that's not right. "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer...." No, that's not it either. "The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, shall no more cut it's master." Yes, that's more like it. Greystone Theatre returns to the Bard (the last visitation being The Winter's Tale in spring 2009) with the first part of Henry IV, one of Will's most popular history plays.

Once upon a time, during an extended halftime break in the 100 Years War, a man named Henry Bolingbroke stole the throne from Richard II and became King Henry IV of England. But many were unhappy with this coup and rebellion stirred in the corners of Britain. Meanwhile, the king had a son of a most prodigal nature; he was called Hal and he spent his nights in all manner of cavorting and debauchery, while shirking his princely responsibilities. But once the gallant Hotspur, once a favoured subject of the king, turns his passions toward revolution, Hal must step up to his birthright.

1 Henry IV is the second play in Shakespeare's second "Henriad", which eventually culminates in everyone's favourite Elizabethan action flick Henry V. It is a play of tremendous personality (if not historical accuracy), with memorable characters and an action-packed final act.

The production takes place on a thrust stage, brushing very close to the audience (so close one can almost reach out and touch the ringmail). Nicole Zalesak's set design works in contrasts. The backdrop is an old medieval castle, grey and weather beaten; extending out into the thrust is a very convincing woodgrain pattern floor, looking less like part of the castle and more like the stage. The edges of the woodgrain are rough, blurred, and abstract, giving the sense that this theatrical floor is rising up out of the historical milieu. The royal throne which is betimes the lone furnishing on the stage is simple and not particularly imposing, much like the king who occupies it, but stands in defiant hyperrealism to the weathered backdrop.

I regret that I will not be able to make specific mention of all performers, but with a cast of this size I am forced to take a selection. I will start, logically, with the king. Devin Wesnoski adopts a more classical diction for his pensive ruler, enunciating and lingering over syllables (with a few exceptions). He has a definite stage presence which is at its most powerful when he is doing little. Michael Prebble is a natural fit for Prince Hal. He exudes easy charisma and a thousand watt smile, capturing the vitality of the lad's carefree youth. A lot of his speech and manner is quite — if you'll forgive the momentary break from academic terminology — dickish, but with his comedic timing and darling eyes, he always keeps the audience in the palm of his hand. In later scenes he becomes more contemplative, and shows much greater depth in those moments of pain when he is torn between his calling as prince and his old friends. Rohan Keenan does a strong turn as Worcester (pronounced "Wooster", because British people, man), embodying an intense antipathy toward the king, but always doing so in a reserved way. He never has explosions of temper, but maintains a constant roiling just beneath the surface. Anna Seibel is a scene-stealer in her lamentably terse appearance as the Welsh sorceress Glendower (in a bit of gender-bending from the original text). With a jaw-dropping Welsh dialect, gilded armour, and wild-eyed witchery, she holds firm control of the stage, even against Donlevy's Hotspur. I can't speak much more to the acting, but I will point out a couple other short, but memorable, performances in Ciara Richardson's impeccably Cockney Mistress Quickly and Vernon Boldick's curiously piratey Bardolphe.

But the fact is, no matter how you try to dress up the performance, the main thrust of this play lies 'twixt two things: the loveable rotund Sir John Falstaff, and the fiery Hotspur. Donovan Scheirer hops into Shakespeare's plumpest role, sporting a large beard, an enhanced girth, and a hearty laugh. Falstaff was a very popular figure in Shakespeare's day, and it is easy to see why; he captures the bawdy Elizabethan spirit along with glimmers of the Bard's wisdom. Scheirer is larger than life onstage, taking delight in every dirty joke and having fun with Falstaff's boastful swagger. But he strikes a balance as well; it would be easy to steamroll over Jack's more sombre moments on the way to more laughs, but Scheirer takes time to digest them all. And as the only character in the play who has an actual soliloquy, he has the opportunity to strike real insight, such as in his "What is honour?" passage. He never loses his good humour, he never loses the audience, and he avoids the easy trap of getting lost in himself.

Chris Donlevy in the skin of Hotspur calls to mind Hamlet's famous piece of advice, "Speak the speech, I pray you ... trippingly on the tongue". Rather than being pressed under the weight of the language in the text, he cuts right through it. Every thought and emotion is communicated as clearly as if in an everyday conversation, and the dialogue flows like he has been speaking it his whole life. He does not trip over the elaborate phrasings, perhaps because he doesn't give it undue reverence; he isn't afraid to spit a word out in a furious rage. But the meter of the verse is not lost; it is adapted. As I listened more closely, I found a speech pattern reminiscent of slam poetry, stripping the elegance out of the meter and turning it into something more primal and intimate. Donlevy's characterisation does not hide Hotspur's stubbornness, arrogance, and impetuosity, but he lingers on the pain and frustration, turning him into the play's most sympathetic character. It doesn't hurt that he almost always commands the stage, with his charisma when calm and his atomic temper when not.

Some character dynamics, however, were lacking. Wesnoski's stronger moments were his quieter ones, displaying the reserved emotions of a strong but ultimately passive king. At other points that strength was lost in a flurry of hand gestures and spiking emotion, where it seemed that he and Donlevy were competing for the floor by way of passion — a battle the king was fated to lose. And as much as I enjoyed the intimacy that the thrust stage provided, the side effect was that characters had to move way too much. On one hand I can appreciate the irony that Falstaff, after professing how he can take not another step, is suddenly darting from one side to another in his conversation with Hal, but on the other hand, the movement itself strikes me as artificial, and the scene better served by staying in place. At various points a character will cross to the far side of the stage, utter a line, and then cross all the way back for one final moment, and it gets dizzying.

I attended the play on two nights. The first night was preview, after which, I was told, several cuts were made. I do not think I noticed all of them on second viewing, so I suppose they did their job. The play's opening scene, however, jarred me. A chunk of lines was sliced from the beginning of Henry's opening speech, which upsets me both because we lost some very powerful lines reflecting on England's experience with civil war and because the play now, quite bizarrely, starts with "Therefore". I am not sure what purpose these cuts were meant to serve, but the play did not feel any shorter the second time.

1 Henry IV is a play of language and character, and serves both up in generous portions. While there were a few detractors along the way, it is a tremendous production, with a tight cast, excellent chemistry, and an undertone of Dwayne Brenna's sense of humour. Zounds.