[In the following review, Barbour observes that the scenery and direction of Karin Coonrod's production of the Henry VI series reflects the bloodshed that has occurred in modern warfare in such places as Yugoslavia and Rwanda.]

Each age gets the Shakespeare it deserves. For centuries, the most prized of the Bard's works have been the straightforward comedies, tragedies, and histories. More recently, modern audiences have embraced the so-called “problem plays,” works like Cymbeline, Measure for Measure, and The Winter's Tale, which blend dark comedy with elements of drama and fantasy, and such violent works as Titus Andronicus.

Then there's the Henry VI trilogy. These three works span the gap between the national epic Henry V and the melodramatic Richard III. But the three Henry VI plays, a long, complex chronicle of war and intrigue, have been rarely staged, until recently. Their action is complex, the characters often cruel and grasping. Revenge follows revenge as groups of nobles nakedly pursue the power of the crown. The one saintly character, Henry VI, is also infuriatingly feckless: his goodness is no defense against the seemingly endless cycle of violence and betrayal. It's not a pretty picture, but nowadays it's an uncanny mirror of many of the world's dark places, from the former Yugoslavia to Rwanda.

Director Karin Coonrod emphasized the modernity of Henry VI in her revival of the plays, presented in December at the Joseph Papp Public Theatre in New York—one moment featured King Edward IV and his newly installed royal family dancing a soft shoe to “Tea for Two” while blood ran from Henry VI's body down the rake of the stage. Her production was defined by an exposed theatricality—all roles were played by ten actors, who switched roles, genders, and classes as required. If a character was killed, he or she simply got up at the end of a scene and assumed a new identity.

Scenic designer P. K. Wish created a setting that intimately matched Coonrod's vision of the play. The Public's Martinson Hall is usually employed as a proscenium space, with the audience sitting on chairs placed on risers. For this production, Wish bisected the auditorium with the stage, with audience members sitting on both sides. At one end, the stage rose and formed a wall, which parted to reveal a second level for certain scenes. The other end of the stage was closed off by hangings, which later disappeared to reveal a giant upside-down crown painted, in the manner of Jean-Paul Basquiat, on the room's wall.

Wish made extensive use of rigging for her effects—numerous key set pieces were lowered from above. The plays began with a coffin dropping on the stage, bearing the body of the late Henry V. Later, when the play's nobles began to split up and choose sides, signifying the beginning of the Wars of the Roses, the actors chose red or white roses from a grass drop which flew in. In the latter quarter of the production, Henry VI, not directly involved in the action, sat in a swing several feet above the stage, watching the intrigue whirl below him. For scenes in which the nobles struggle for power at court, Wish flew in a number of chairs hanging on red suspenders. She says that Coonrod felt the red suspenders resembled blood lines; the chairs became entangled as the nobles quarreled, creating a visual metaphor for the internecine warfare of the plays. At another key moment, two of the classical pillars which adorn Martinson Hall broke loose and were lowered to the stage, a bold image of a kingdom coming apart.

One of the most shocking moments in the production came at the end of the first half (as in most modern productions, the three plays have been edited down to two full-length plays), with the burning of Joan of Arc. Shakespeare's version of Joan is radically at odds with the modern view of her as a saint and martyr; here she is portrayed as a shrill, warlike schemer who eggs on the French against the English. At the moment of her death, the focus shifted from the stage, where she was being held, to an offstage area; a drop fell and revealed a dress on fire inside a mesh drum—an effect that Wish worked out with Dominic McGill of Jauchem and Meeh, Inc.

One of the most striking aspects of Wish's design was her use of unconventional materials for the stage. The aforementioned paper drops were made of Tyvek, the same material used for Federal Express envelopes. The stage floor was covered in layers of leather, which gave the set an appropriately worn look while allowing it to take a considerable beating over the plays' six hours.

This was an important project for Wish, who was still a student at NYU's design school when she began the two-year workshop process with Coonrod on Henry VI. A native of England, she worked as an interior designer and as an assistant in the BBC's design department, before moving to the U.S. Interestingly, she's no stranger to large-scale Shakespeare, having designed an epic Cymbeline at NYU, which was directed by Barry Edelstein. She notes that the overall process of working on Henry VI was one of stripping away—during rehearsals, a number of props and other effects were eliminated. The result was a highly distilled design, which blended a sweeping sense of history with a strong sense of modern disillusionment. For a designer recently out of grad school, it was a significant calling card.

Scenery for Henry VI was built by Red Dot Scenic and the New York Shakespeare Festival, with additional scenery and special effects by Jauchem & Meeh, Inc. Henry VI ran through January 5.