[In the following review, Kane-Lavin praises the 2003 Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival staging of Henry V, directed by Terrence O'Brien. Kane-Lavin notes that the production demanded that the audience reconsider “war, its consequences, and its relatively short-lived benefits.”]

When the Chorus—dressed officiously in long black coat, pants tucked into laced boots—crosses the stretch of field into the tent of the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival to bid the audience our “imaginary forces work,” we take her request to heart. No meaner stage could hold so splendid an array of characters and locales. Those seated on the semicircle of risers rimming the tent look past the straw-covered round of stage and out upon a meadow treed with hundred-year-old oaks and maples, the lawn disappearing over the embankments of the Hudson, the rugged highland escarpment rising in silhouette as the sky darkens. Within the tent, a movable bench serves as the only physical prop, the throne for Henry V and Charles VI. Costumes are minimalist renderings of medieval garb, drab corduroy tunics for the British and vibrant slubbed silk caftan-like robes for the French. In this spare setting, imaginations are indeed free to construct the opulence of the Kings' palaces, the chaos outside the gates of Harfleur, the restless sounds of the English and French camps before battle, and the terror of combat at Agincourt. Innovative direction and a strong cast of players aid the audience in “jumping o'er times, / Turning the accomplishment of many years / Into an hourglass” (30-31).

Following the prologue, the stage fills with Pistol, Nym, Bardolph, Boy, and Henry briefly miming a drunken tavern scene to the driving rock of a Bjork tune. News of Henry IV's death changes the revelry to a coronation, and we witness Hal's transformation to the serious monarch who now casts off his lowly friends. The interlude is effective and swift, bringing us smoothly to the political and religious matters at hand.

The script in act one is pared of references to the aggression of the Scots, focusing directly on the claim to French lands. In the first performance I saw (June 26), Henry was played with such sobriety as, at times, to lack any affect at all. His words rolled out with little regard to sense or emotion, automaton-like. In a later performance (July 10), the King seemed to have more confidence in his station and commanded the language as firmly as his subjects, with greater authority and credibility. With strength and charm, this Henry is both determined and generous. He proceeds with plans to attack France only when assured he has legal and ecclesiastical rights to do so. This Henry is wise, considered, but resolute in weeding out those who plot against him. In a rather clumsy scene, Richard, Earl of Cambridge, Sir Thomas Grey, and Henry, Lord Scroop draw laughs rather than pity as they grovel at the feet of the King when they have been discovered as conspirators (2.2), so overindicated are their actions. But Henry manages to regain the serious tone of the moment with quiet power, showing no mercy to the traitors, regardless of their intimate friendship.

The rustics relieve the tension in the following scene as they mourn Falstaff's death, although the twangs of the Hostess' Brooklyn accent grew more annoying than amusing. The others were well controlled in their roles of dignified but clownish friends. For his short time onstage, Boy won over the audience with his gentle attentions to the older, but clearly not wiser, tavern buddies.

As this shabbily dressed band exits, Charles VI, the Dauphin, the Constable, and the dukes enter. Played subtly, all convey an underlying mistrust of the intelligence of the “Dolphin,” whose affectations annoy even his father (2.4). Their arrogance toward the English is well conveyed without villainizing the French, who want desperately to repel the outnumbered enemy. With his strategic intelligence and verbal acuity, the Lord Constable cleverly outmaneuvers the Dauphin and accentuates the heir's inadequacies.

Henry's personality enlarges as we go with him to battle, even as his bedraggled troops and his own exhaustion threaten victory. As the King entreats his army with a rousing “Once more unto the breach” (3.1.1), we believe they are his “dear friends,” and we care that they are met with no resistance at the gates. Henry demonstrates the depth of his soldierly honor as he calls for his men “to use mercy to them all” within Harfleur (3.3.54).

The scene shifts again to the French court and the colorful Katherine with her attendant. The simplicity of the setting seems to illuminate the sparkling interplay between them as they exchange broken English phrases. Timing and expression are superb here, and we quickly get the measure of this beautiful and headstrong princess. Meanwhile, Henry grows into a more complex and thoughtful soldier/sovereign, evidenced by his evolving relationship with Montjoy. At the close of act three, the French envoy grows more respectful and Henry more familiar, after their earlier and often hostile meetings, with the King admitting his vulnerability while proclaiming the English army's fierce determination. Montjoy exits with renewed esteem for Henry. Gloucester reflects the fearful thoughts of all when he expresses the “hope they will not come upon us now.” They are not in the hands of the French but in God's hands, reminds the humble King (3.6.167).

As the audience regains their seats after the intermission, the company takes the stage in groups, lead characters together in front, all with their backs facing us in the dark. Then comes the surprise of the night: lights go up, the groups face the audience, and we hear a 1945 Perry Como recording of “Dig You Later (A Hubba Hubba Hubba)” while the cast mimes the lyrics and dances à la 40s beebop. The effect is at first startling but comic. While the company is engaging and entertaining in their new genre, the shift from war preparations to musical numbers seems absurd, until we listen to the lyrics carefully. Recorded on the heels of our victory over Japan, the song echoes a now especially disturbing racism and glee in recalling “it was mighty smoky over Tokyo! / A friend of mine in a B-29 dropped another load for luck / As he flew away, he was heard to say: / ‘A hubba hubba hubba yuk yuk.’” The interjection of this song brings a much different interpretation to the notion of war for the glory of God and Country.

There is no mistaking the patriotic and religious underpinnings of this play, regardless of the director's attempt to highlight Henry's stirring self-doubts and those of his foot soldiers as they consider war's inevitable savagery. As Harry le Roy walks the camp, the night surrounds us all. Williams' speech questioning the worthiness of their cause is spoken to a hushed audience, aware of Henry's attention to the same agonizing realization: “How, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it” (4.1.144-45). In this production, Williams shoves the King forcibly as their argument advances to a challenge, eliciting a gasp from the audience. We are equally moved as Henry drops to his knees beseeching his Christian God to “steel my soldiers' hearts, / Possess them not with fear! … [T]hink not upon the fault my father made in encompassing the crown!” He recounts the many reparations issued to assuage the guilt of Richard's unseating and death, and we are fully in sympathy with this ardent supplicant, while nonetheless recognizing his imperialistic mission. When, in 4.3, he addresses his troops on the feast of Crispian, the audience, so near at hand to the players, are enlisted and rallied as well. We, too, are ready to scoff Montjoy out of the tent when she recommends the army repent their sins before battle, so “that their souls / May make a peaceful and a sweet retire / From off these fields” (4.3.85-87).

The fields of battle extend beyond the tent and into the night, where scenes of men on horseback and foot soldiers with lances and crossbows are projected onto temporary scrims. The nearer battle, on the stage and beyond, is waged to the same hard rhythms that began the play, a fusion of techno/rock, heightening the intensity of the action. Less effective is the quick resolution of the battle scene into a choreographed mélange of all the soldiers, even those previously dead on the field. The first time I saw this scene, the audience reacted as they had to “A Hubba Hubba Hubba,” although there was nothing amusing about the music or the militant, robotic movements of the company. There was no laughter the next time I saw the play, an indication of the cast's more integrated and cohesive performance. Many stalwarts in the audience were moved to tears as the Boy's body was carried in, enraging Henry and all at such a violation “against the laws of arms” (4.7.2). So then are we swept up in the realization that England had won the day in battle. Henry, at Montjoy's news, drops to his knees next to her on the straw and takes her arms as if in comfort—and in certain display of respect for the envoy and France's efforts. As Henry reads the names of the French dead, we are hushed. We feel his elation and grace as relief that so few of his own have fallen.

In the final scene, Henry works convincingly to woo the reluctant Kate, who argues defensively and equally convincingly that she could not love the enemy of France. Even she cannot resist his convoluted logic, concluding that “when France is mine and I am yours, then yours is France and you are mine” (5.2.175-76). Along with Alice, the trio's work scene seems effortless, an obvious pleasure for the audience.

Hard-driving, dark rhythms of a Bjork song accompanies Henry and Katherine waltzing alone on stage as the war-wounded troops limp across the field behind them, demanding of the audience a reconsideration of war, its consequences, and its relatively short-lived benefits. One cannot come away from this production without seriously evaluating the current climate of racial profiling, the discussion of “preemptive” war preparations, and our suspicions of foreigners at the borders. Claiming God on their side, England won France. The Chorus reminds us of England's bloody fortunes under the next Henry. Another song to consider might include the lines, “Oh, when will they ever learn.”