Henry VI, Parts I, II, and III, dir. Michael Boyd, at the Roundhouse, London
I didn't take as many notes this time, as I was mainly jotting down things I hadn't noticed before, or things that I thought were different.
The first set of reviews is here.
They've more or less transplanted the entire set into the Roundhouse, although the theatre itself is a different shape. My seats, which I thought were going to be extremely high up, and would have been at the Courtyard, turned out to be quite good (I was front row circle, far to stage right).
Henry VI, Part I
The Infamous Paper Crown of Doom first appeared on Edmund Mortimer's head, and I started laughing when he handed York a pebble in that scene -- now we know where York's brilliant family tree idea came from. It was also thrown onto the stage in the next scene, where the commons started rebelling against Parliament. Oooh.
I apparently made a mistake in my original review, when I talked about zombie!Henry V breaking a siege. It was in the second half of the play, and it was Rouen, not Orléans. The fact that it was the last thing Bedford did before he died was quite effective. Even if it was preceded by French taunting à la Monty Python, complete with Joan waving his severed arm about. The way Joan killed Bedford was also well-done, very underhanded and calculated, again linking her with Margaret (as if she needed to be linked more).
It was brought to my attention when sitting around after buying tickets that Warwick's mercenary side was really brought out in this production. And after that had been pointed out, I couldn't help but notice it all the time. Like in the Temple Gardens scene, where he nearly picked a red rose, and only at the last minute grabbed a white. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He is utterly politic, no attachment to either side, which seems to me to be a very interesting take on the source material -- especially considering that he and his father are more or less conflated into the same character.
I paid more attention to -- and better remembered -- the Countess of Auvergne scene this time. She is completely feminine, in contrast to Joan, but when faced with the completely masculine Talbot (as opposed to the Dauphin, whose masculinity is pastede on yay), she cannot seduce him. And yet Joan fights him and wins, which is very interesting.
Speaking of Joan, I noticed that Regnier and Alençon have a running commentary on the Dauphin's relationship with her that perfectly echoes Clarence and Gloucester watching Edward and Elizabeth in Part III. So many sexual puns. But considering they were emphasising the relationship between Joan and the Dauphin -- not to mention the later suggestion in the siege of Rouen scene that Joan has a male harem -- it makes sense.
Henry's first entrance is literally in York's shadow, as the latter is downstairs and charges up, barely missing the King as he exits. Considering that York is already plotting even before Henry appears, well, it doesn't bode well for anyone, does it?
I noticed how, interestingly, there are so many references to Talbot's wife in the scene between him and his son, but we never know her name or anything about her. She is only ever relevant in terms of her having been the mother of his son. Woman as receptacle, here we go again. Totally different from Margaret, whose son appears out of absolutely nowhere and is never mentioned until he's fully grown. But rather like the Duchess of York, except that the Duchess does eventually turn up, even if not in these plays.
The Earl of Armagnac's daughter is visually linked to Katherine. The marriage Henry should have made in contrast to Margaret, who is linked to the Countess of Auvergne and a trio of fiends. Hmm?
I only noticed in the second half that the two Attendants of Death turn up here too. The Governor of Bordeaux really does have appropriate lines. Also, they never slam doors, while named characters as a rule tend to do so. Drawing attention to their otherworldliness? Constant connection between red costumes and the uncanny that culminates in Margaret's bewitchment first of Suffolk and later of Henry.
Also, when York taunted Joan, he counterfeited a hunchback on the line 'See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows, / As if, with Circe, she would change my shape!' Which led me to wonder about the timeline of the plays yet again -- is he making a reference to Richard, who already exists, or is Richard a punishment of sorts that only appears afterward? But the timeline is such a mess that I have absolutely no idea. I actually really like the latter idea, because it would create a very interesting dynamic between York and Richard, but I don't know.
Henry VI, Part II
Very amusing moment at the beginning, when Suffolk was going on about Margaret and Henry was literally twitching in hopes that he would shut up. He was too, too cute. Poor Henry.
And I rather enjoyed the intimacy of Humphrey and Eleanor in the next scene. It really did seem as though they were a couple who had been married for a long time (which, admittedly, they had been), and knew one another very well. And there really is a deep-rooted theme of ambitious women linked with the uncanny; and ambitious men willing to exploit that link. Shakespeare does make it incredibly obvious that Eleanor is being framed, even when he stages her supposed witchcraft. The melding of two traditions, often contradictory, throws those contradictions into sharp relief.
I still love the energy between Margaret and Suffolk. There was the early moment in particular, after Margaret's speech comparing Henry and Suffolk, where they were on the verge of kissing and Henry walked in. I also still like the subtle -- or not-so-subtle -- hints that everyone except Henry knows about their affair. Plus, everything seemed far more intense this time. Massive make-out session in the farewell scene, for instance.
Warwick's mercenary side continues to come out. He convinces Salisbury to support York instead of Gloucester only when it is obvious whose star is rising. Also, the 'Maine' speech. Silliest speech ever. And the Cardinal is hysterically funny -- it really is all in the delivery with him.
Henry's reaction to Gloucester's death is so affecting. And Margaret's reaction completely crystallises her selfish tunnel-vision where Suffolk is concerned. Although -- was that a moment of triumph I saw after Henry fainted, and Margaret thought he was dead? Bad, bad Margaret.
I quite enjoyed the dead Talbots randomly appearing. First, in the witchcraft scene, where Young Talbot was the conjured spirit screaming prophecies at Margery Jourdayne, and repeatedly later on. Particularly in the scene where they kill Suffolk and he recognises them. Which begs a Very Important Question -- are the dead Talbots and headless!Suffolk crusaders of vigilante justice that run around England (and occasionally sail the Channel) to catch and punish criminals?
The Margaret-and-Suffolk's-head duet is less weird when viewed from stage right. Marginally less weird, that is. I don't think anything will make it not weird. And Henry's attempts to bond with the Cardinal as he's dying were surprisingly touching.
And then there was York. Who just gets more and more interesting the more think about him. He does have a legitimately superior claim to Henry, which sort of balances out how horribly ambitious he is, at least in this play. And I love the first appearance of the York boys. Edward aloft, George and Richard alongside. The dynamics continue to be intriguing -- at first, York doesn't seem to pay much attention to Richard. Only later he remembers that Richard is even there -- which, when I look back at the Joan scene, continues to make me wonder. Then Richard kills Somerset and York notices him, and it's as if the sun is shining in Richard's face. Oh, the daddy issues. And I did love that Richard's admittedly silly wig is the same colour as York's hair.
I do wish the Duchess at least appeared once, however briefly, although I don't really know where she would have fit. She could have made a fascinating counterpoint to Margaret and Eleanor, who face off against the utterly masculine York.
Henry VI, Part III
Wow. Wow, wow, wow. I don't know how it's even possible, but I always forget how utterly intense this play is. Absolute nonstop action, punctuated by these long, painfully reflective speeches. The first scene where the York family stood together against Henry, with York's genuine willingness to compromise in such contrast to his sons.
Also, Warwick is such an attention whore. angevin2 gave me the hilarious idea of Warwick played by a very short man, always the best-dressed onstage, and carrying a pimp cane. Which would be brilliant and completely in character. All his speeches are about the great things he's done, and what he will do, and generally about him. Also, he totally pimps out his daughters to Edward of Lancaster and Clarence.
I loved when Henry handed the crown to York in a perfect echo of Henry IV and Richard II in the deposition scene, except that his Henry wore black. Poor thing -- he is so sincere, even when he loses -- perhaps especially when he loses -- control in this scene. Admits the weakness of his claim but he cannot let it go because, just like Richard, he's never known what it was like to not be king. Though he dreams of something simpler, longs for it, it wouldn't make sense to him. Surely it was bad enough having to sit in his father's shadow; now York brings up his grandfather usurping the throne. Again, the chorus: Poor Henry!
And I felt so awful for him when faced with a furious Margaret. The opposite of Henry IV, who rejects his son -- Edward of Lancaster rejects him for a coward and a weakling. And Margaret just eviscerates him.
Wakefield. Maybe it's the fact that this was the last performance ever, but, oh, my God. I couldn't take my eyes off the stage. Rutland's murder was absolutely brutal, and York was gutwrenching. He gave it his all in that speech, and I was crying. It's such a gorgeous, powerful scene. I remember the people queuing with me for Richard III in March who kept criticising Katy Stephens' delivery of her big speech in that scene, and I totally disagreed -- I thought the coldness was so much more frightening.
Followed of course by the York boys again, and Richard's anger directed first in and then channelled out -- lovely moment as York exits with the Attendants of Death and Richard dashes onstage after him. 'I saw him' -- oh, yes. That spoke volumes.
The father-son scene got me this time. Their emotion contrasted with Henry's horrified stillness, especially after he reacted to seeing York's head. So much guilt. This play is saturated with it. No wonder Henry longs for something -- anything -- else. I actually got a good look at what they did to Clifford this time and it was brutal, animalistic. Both like and unlike Wakefield.
Maybe it was the angle, but I liked the Edward-Elizabeth scene rather more this time. Her desperation came through, as did his complete callousness -- he never even uses her name, just calls her 'Widow', even after he decides to marry her. She is no more than an object of desire. Of ridicule from George and Richard, and a means by which we catch a glimpse of the dark corners of Richard's mind. Slinger was electrifying as before -- I just love his delivery of that particular speech.
The second half really is the Warwick and Gloucester Show. Warwick was hamming things up a lot in general and I think enthusiasm led him to flub several lines. But, as I said before, PublicityWhore!Warwick actually makes a lot of sense. It also makes the turnabout in the French court make far more sense in context. Is it distracting onstage? Yes, dear God, yes. But I can see where the ideas were coming from.
Poor Edward IV. He really doesn't come off well in these plays at all. At least he gets one scene in Richard III with a bit of depth. Although he did produce a fantastic 'oh, shit' expression when Clarence let slip that Richard had gone off to the Tower to murder Henry. In fact, Forbes Masson really did what he could with the role, particularly in terms of non-verbal things, so I give him lots of points for that.
The last few scenes were absolutely magnificent. First, Tewkesbury, where Margaret also made me tear up -- something of a shock, since what usually comes to mind during her big speech over her son's body is 'Erm...maybe you shouldn't have waved bloodsoaked napkins from other dead children in front of their parents' -- and Henry just looked so resigned. Richard's speech just lit up the stage. I adore that character. Homicide and all. And I know it wasn't just me, and that whoever was in charge of the blood went to town when Henry died. It was all over the stage.
In fact, to such an extent that Edward's pristine white train was absolutely spattered with it, which was a fantastic image in every way. And, of course, 'Now'. Best. Ending. Ever.
But now they're over. It makes me so very sad, even though logically I know that it frees up the histories so that other companies can technically do them. I am still sad.
The first set of reviews is here.
They've more or less transplanted the entire set into the Roundhouse, although the theatre itself is a different shape. My seats, which I thought were going to be extremely high up, and would have been at the Courtyard, turned out to be quite good (I was front row circle, far to stage right).
Henry VI, Part I
The Infamous Paper Crown of Doom first appeared on Edmund Mortimer's head, and I started laughing when he handed York a pebble in that scene -- now we know where York's brilliant family tree idea came from. It was also thrown onto the stage in the next scene, where the commons started rebelling against Parliament. Oooh.
I apparently made a mistake in my original review, when I talked about zombie!Henry V breaking a siege. It was in the second half of the play, and it was Rouen, not Orléans. The fact that it was the last thing Bedford did before he died was quite effective. Even if it was preceded by French taunting à la Monty Python, complete with Joan waving his severed arm about. The way Joan killed Bedford was also well-done, very underhanded and calculated, again linking her with Margaret (as if she needed to be linked more).
It was brought to my attention when sitting around after buying tickets that Warwick's mercenary side was really brought out in this production. And after that had been pointed out, I couldn't help but notice it all the time. Like in the Temple Gardens scene, where he nearly picked a red rose, and only at the last minute grabbed a white. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He is utterly politic, no attachment to either side, which seems to me to be a very interesting take on the source material -- especially considering that he and his father are more or less conflated into the same character.
I paid more attention to -- and better remembered -- the Countess of Auvergne scene this time. She is completely feminine, in contrast to Joan, but when faced with the completely masculine Talbot (as opposed to the Dauphin, whose masculinity is pastede on yay), she cannot seduce him. And yet Joan fights him and wins, which is very interesting.
Speaking of Joan, I noticed that Regnier and Alençon have a running commentary on the Dauphin's relationship with her that perfectly echoes Clarence and Gloucester watching Edward and Elizabeth in Part III. So many sexual puns. But considering they were emphasising the relationship between Joan and the Dauphin -- not to mention the later suggestion in the siege of Rouen scene that Joan has a male harem -- it makes sense.
Henry's first entrance is literally in York's shadow, as the latter is downstairs and charges up, barely missing the King as he exits. Considering that York is already plotting even before Henry appears, well, it doesn't bode well for anyone, does it?
I noticed how, interestingly, there are so many references to Talbot's wife in the scene between him and his son, but we never know her name or anything about her. She is only ever relevant in terms of her having been the mother of his son. Woman as receptacle, here we go again. Totally different from Margaret, whose son appears out of absolutely nowhere and is never mentioned until he's fully grown. But rather like the Duchess of York, except that the Duchess does eventually turn up, even if not in these plays.
The Earl of Armagnac's daughter is visually linked to Katherine. The marriage Henry should have made in contrast to Margaret, who is linked to the Countess of Auvergne and a trio of fiends. Hmm?
I only noticed in the second half that the two Attendants of Death turn up here too. The Governor of Bordeaux really does have appropriate lines. Also, they never slam doors, while named characters as a rule tend to do so. Drawing attention to their otherworldliness? Constant connection between red costumes and the uncanny that culminates in Margaret's bewitchment first of Suffolk and later of Henry.
Also, when York taunted Joan, he counterfeited a hunchback on the line 'See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows, / As if, with Circe, she would change my shape!' Which led me to wonder about the timeline of the plays yet again -- is he making a reference to Richard, who already exists, or is Richard a punishment of sorts that only appears afterward? But the timeline is such a mess that I have absolutely no idea. I actually really like the latter idea, because it would create a very interesting dynamic between York and Richard, but I don't know.
Henry VI, Part II
Very amusing moment at the beginning, when Suffolk was going on about Margaret and Henry was literally twitching in hopes that he would shut up. He was too, too cute. Poor Henry.
And I rather enjoyed the intimacy of Humphrey and Eleanor in the next scene. It really did seem as though they were a couple who had been married for a long time (which, admittedly, they had been), and knew one another very well. And there really is a deep-rooted theme of ambitious women linked with the uncanny; and ambitious men willing to exploit that link. Shakespeare does make it incredibly obvious that Eleanor is being framed, even when he stages her supposed witchcraft. The melding of two traditions, often contradictory, throws those contradictions into sharp relief.
I still love the energy between Margaret and Suffolk. There was the early moment in particular, after Margaret's speech comparing Henry and Suffolk, where they were on the verge of kissing and Henry walked in. I also still like the subtle -- or not-so-subtle -- hints that everyone except Henry knows about their affair. Plus, everything seemed far more intense this time. Massive make-out session in the farewell scene, for instance.
Warwick's mercenary side continues to come out. He convinces Salisbury to support York instead of Gloucester only when it is obvious whose star is rising. Also, the 'Maine' speech. Silliest speech ever. And the Cardinal is hysterically funny -- it really is all in the delivery with him.
Henry's reaction to Gloucester's death is so affecting. And Margaret's reaction completely crystallises her selfish tunnel-vision where Suffolk is concerned. Although -- was that a moment of triumph I saw after Henry fainted, and Margaret thought he was dead? Bad, bad Margaret.
I quite enjoyed the dead Talbots randomly appearing. First, in the witchcraft scene, where Young Talbot was the conjured spirit screaming prophecies at Margery Jourdayne, and repeatedly later on. Particularly in the scene where they kill Suffolk and he recognises them. Which begs a Very Important Question -- are the dead Talbots and headless!Suffolk crusaders of vigilante justice that run around England (and occasionally sail the Channel) to catch and punish criminals?
The Margaret-and-Suffolk's-head duet is less weird when viewed from stage right. Marginally less weird, that is. I don't think anything will make it not weird. And Henry's attempts to bond with the Cardinal as he's dying were surprisingly touching.
And then there was York. Who just gets more and more interesting the more think about him. He does have a legitimately superior claim to Henry, which sort of balances out how horribly ambitious he is, at least in this play. And I love the first appearance of the York boys. Edward aloft, George and Richard alongside. The dynamics continue to be intriguing -- at first, York doesn't seem to pay much attention to Richard. Only later he remembers that Richard is even there -- which, when I look back at the Joan scene, continues to make me wonder. Then Richard kills Somerset and York notices him, and it's as if the sun is shining in Richard's face. Oh, the daddy issues. And I did love that Richard's admittedly silly wig is the same colour as York's hair.
I do wish the Duchess at least appeared once, however briefly, although I don't really know where she would have fit. She could have made a fascinating counterpoint to Margaret and Eleanor, who face off against the utterly masculine York.
Henry VI, Part III
Wow. Wow, wow, wow. I don't know how it's even possible, but I always forget how utterly intense this play is. Absolute nonstop action, punctuated by these long, painfully reflective speeches. The first scene where the York family stood together against Henry, with York's genuine willingness to compromise in such contrast to his sons.
Also, Warwick is such an attention whore. angevin2 gave me the hilarious idea of Warwick played by a very short man, always the best-dressed onstage, and carrying a pimp cane. Which would be brilliant and completely in character. All his speeches are about the great things he's done, and what he will do, and generally about him. Also, he totally pimps out his daughters to Edward of Lancaster and Clarence.
I loved when Henry handed the crown to York in a perfect echo of Henry IV and Richard II in the deposition scene, except that his Henry wore black. Poor thing -- he is so sincere, even when he loses -- perhaps especially when he loses -- control in this scene. Admits the weakness of his claim but he cannot let it go because, just like Richard, he's never known what it was like to not be king. Though he dreams of something simpler, longs for it, it wouldn't make sense to him. Surely it was bad enough having to sit in his father's shadow; now York brings up his grandfather usurping the throne. Again, the chorus: Poor Henry!
And I felt so awful for him when faced with a furious Margaret. The opposite of Henry IV, who rejects his son -- Edward of Lancaster rejects him for a coward and a weakling. And Margaret just eviscerates him.
Wakefield. Maybe it's the fact that this was the last performance ever, but, oh, my God. I couldn't take my eyes off the stage. Rutland's murder was absolutely brutal, and York was gutwrenching. He gave it his all in that speech, and I was crying. It's such a gorgeous, powerful scene. I remember the people queuing with me for Richard III in March who kept criticising Katy Stephens' delivery of her big speech in that scene, and I totally disagreed -- I thought the coldness was so much more frightening.
Followed of course by the York boys again, and Richard's anger directed first in and then channelled out -- lovely moment as York exits with the Attendants of Death and Richard dashes onstage after him. 'I saw him' -- oh, yes. That spoke volumes.
The father-son scene got me this time. Their emotion contrasted with Henry's horrified stillness, especially after he reacted to seeing York's head. So much guilt. This play is saturated with it. No wonder Henry longs for something -- anything -- else. I actually got a good look at what they did to Clifford this time and it was brutal, animalistic. Both like and unlike Wakefield.
Maybe it was the angle, but I liked the Edward-Elizabeth scene rather more this time. Her desperation came through, as did his complete callousness -- he never even uses her name, just calls her 'Widow', even after he decides to marry her. She is no more than an object of desire. Of ridicule from George and Richard, and a means by which we catch a glimpse of the dark corners of Richard's mind. Slinger was electrifying as before -- I just love his delivery of that particular speech.
The second half really is the Warwick and Gloucester Show. Warwick was hamming things up a lot in general and I think enthusiasm led him to flub several lines. But, as I said before, PublicityWhore!Warwick actually makes a lot of sense. It also makes the turnabout in the French court make far more sense in context. Is it distracting onstage? Yes, dear God, yes. But I can see where the ideas were coming from.
Poor Edward IV. He really doesn't come off well in these plays at all. At least he gets one scene in Richard III with a bit of depth. Although he did produce a fantastic 'oh, shit' expression when Clarence let slip that Richard had gone off to the Tower to murder Henry. In fact, Forbes Masson really did what he could with the role, particularly in terms of non-verbal things, so I give him lots of points for that.
The last few scenes were absolutely magnificent. First, Tewkesbury, where Margaret also made me tear up -- something of a shock, since what usually comes to mind during her big speech over her son's body is 'Erm...maybe you shouldn't have waved bloodsoaked napkins from other dead children in front of their parents' -- and Henry just looked so resigned. Richard's speech just lit up the stage. I adore that character. Homicide and all. And I know it wasn't just me, and that whoever was in charge of the blood went to town when Henry died. It was all over the stage.
In fact, to such an extent that Edward's pristine white train was absolutely spattered with it, which was a fantastic image in every way. And, of course, 'Now'. Best. Ending. Ever.
But now they're over. It makes me so very sad, even though logically I know that it frees up the histories so that other companies can technically do them. I am still sad.