Henry V

When this movie was first released, I was living in Memphis, Tennessee, not exactly the most cine-literate city in the world, and it was only showing at one theatre in town- luckily, it was right next door to where I worked. I decided to see the late show one night after work, and was so totally blown away that I saw it every night for the next four days, in one case even getting off work early to catch it. As the first directorial outing for Kenneth Branagh, it must surely rank among the most impressive directorial debuts in history. I don't feel that I'd be overstating my point to say that not since Orson Welles' "Citizen Kane" was a directorial debut so impressive. From Derek Jacobi's brilliant opening soliloquy as The Chorus to the climactic battle sequence and the following sequence of King Henry's surveying of the carnage on the battlefield, this is a film that never lags, owing to Branagh's willingness to excise certain sequences that don't translate well to film- a move that Olivier was unwilling to make for his production of Henry V back in the 40's. This film totally altered the way I thought of Shakespeare- I went from looking at a Shakespearean work as being full of literary merit, but of dubious entertainment value. However, after this film, and followed soon after by "Hamlet" with Mel Gibson and "Prospero's Books" with Sir John Gielgud, I came to realize the full entertainment value of Shakespearean story, long before the recent Shakespeare explosion brought on by the Romeo and Juliet music video with Leonardo DeCaprio.

With tensions between England and the arrogant French pushed to breaking point, King Henry the Fifth sets out with his armies to conquer and quell the French in their native land. The film builds up to the historic battle of Agincourt with the troops and the king camping together and making progress across the land, with the French armies preparing for battle as King Henry and his men go from battle to camp to battle on the way to right the wrong of offence caused to England by France.

When I saw the slightly more famous version of this story from Lawrence Olivier I must admit that I liked it but struggled with simply it was delivered and how the focus was flag-waving. With Branagh's version I was amused by the fact that I got a lot more from it even though it was clearly made with a lot fewer resources to hand. The downside of this is that the film does not have the majesty and the sweep of the dialogue and scenes tend to be smaller and reliant on darkness. At times the cinematography looks drab and does seem like it belongs on the television rather than the cinema but, credit where it is due, the Agincourt battle is impressive regardless of the restrains on it.

Where the film is better than Olivier's is in the delivery of the language and the direction of the material. Branagh brings out so much more of interest in the material than just national pride. He brings more of the story with the sense of pride countered with the horror of war, the reality of the lower classes and such. The only things I thought he should have dropped were both scenes that involved Katherine, the first was a bit out of step with his vision of the rest of the story, while the final scene makes for a weaker ending than should have been.

The cast aids him greatly in bringing this approach out to its potential. Branagh himself leads the cast well and gets better as the film goes on and putting as much effort into the smaller moments as he does into the famous scenes. I thought Jacobi was excellent and really sold his narration and made the device of a modern chorus work well. The cast is deep in talent in every area, from characters with big parts to those with only a few moments on screen. Holm, Sessions, Blessed, Coltrane, Scofield, McEwan, Briers, Dench and others are all excellent and a young Christian Bale is good in a minor role.

Overall then, this may not be considered to be better than Olivier's version but to me it is, thanks to the greater interest it shows in the material. The cast respond well to this and the delivery is with a passion and meaning that makes up for the limits of budget and a bit of a "tv" feel.

Let's get one thing straight: It was Olivier who finally cracked the concrete heads of film producers open and proved that it was possible to put the bard of bards on screen without even an American audience falling asleep after 10 minutes. Sure, after all this time his Henry looks ancient, pretentious and artificial, but so will Blade Runner after 50 years, and still both mark a watershed after which none could be done like anything before. Odd comparisons? Maybe. But fitting.

Branagh's Henry finally set a tone worth to succeed the initial awesome blast unleashed by the most powerful actor for generations, and I'm sure Branagh would be the last to deny Olivier's version the place it deserves in British movie history. Times were ripe for another tone - but times before had needed Olivier as much as the following ages will need Branagh.

I'm an obsessive fan of both versions - both for entirely different reasons - and both merging perfectly what I love most about Shakespeare's eternal works.

Branagh's film is timeless - of this time - without ever being trendy. Olivier's is timeless - as well as of its time - as long as we keep an understanding of its time.

Olivier praised the eternal flame, the eternal smell, of Shakesperean theater, as always reaching far beyond the confinds of its subject - beyond the confinds of the wooden circle of 'The Globe'.

Branagh went right for the jugular, without ever loosing grip on what makes this play a play beyond its subject, and THE play about that subject.

Has anyone considered the vital difference between Branagh's and Olivier's versions? I doubt it. Where Olivier conjured up the intoxicating smell of fresh 15th century glue from the sets rising into the audience's noses, come here straight from the bear fights, whore houses, sermons of zealots and whatever had to flee London's stern moral walls of those times, Branagh cut right to the bone of any hardened 'modern' movie goer.

Behold: Derek Jacoby's prologue is a piece of speech which will forever haunt, enchant and cover me in goosebumps - firing me up to see what comes as well as see what Olivier as well as Branagh had done with the only play ever to merge humanity's lust as well as dread for the subject of war.

Of course, Olivier's version couldn't even dream of matching the intimate intensity of Branagh's. But how could it?

Ok, I won't further dwell on it, but for the last time, consider the father to fully understand the son.

Now, having shed the overpowering shadows of the past, Derek Jacoby steps into the dark of the expecting stage - striking a match...,

"Oh, for the muse of fire..." ... and off we are, lured into the torrent of the bard's unique and eternal magic.

I consider Henry V the best of Branagh's Shakespeare adaptations, even though I wouldn't want to be with any of the others on pain of death. This one's flawless, perfectly cast, perfectly executed and perfectly acted by Branagh himself.

From Burbage to Garrick to Keane to Inving to Olivier to Branagh... it is a glorious lineage to follow in love and admiration for the bard of Bard's ambassadors.



Schogger13

The unique think about this film is that there aren't any weak performance amongst any of the actors, however small their role.

One actor I feels merits a mention is Christopher Ravenscroft for his portrayal of the French Herald, Mountjoy. He plays a key part in this ply as the only character who meets both English and French leaders until after the battle.

His shock and awe in the tennis balls scene when her realises that Henry isn't a silly young man is terrific.

Great film. I've got on video and watch two or three times a year. My teenage sons were gripped by it. This is the way to introduce teenagers to Shakespeare.

Catherine

Ever since its release in 1989, critics of "Henry V" felt the obligation to draw a comparaison with the classic 1944 adaptation of the war-driven Shakespearian play by Sir Laurence Olivier; the legend had died that same year and I suppose couldn't watch Kenneth Branagh's vision and compare it with his own as a sort of final full-circle life satisfecit.

I can see where reviewers are coming from from but then again, I feel the film deserves to be judged on its own standards and be at least compared with the original material. Besides, Olivier's film was released in 1944 when British morals asked for more boosting and the flamboyant play could clearly exploit the audiences' need for patriotic uprising to accompany Churchill's calls of collective efforts and sacrifices. Branagh didn't have such a context to sustain his film, he was simply a Shakespearian actor who understood the timeless appeal of the play and decided to direct it with his boiling and proud Irish soul emphasizing the war aspect and the impetuousness of the king, reacting with irreverence to French condescendance.

And what he came up with is simply a captivating and gripping war-movie with a special uses of lights and darkness to isolate the earlier moments with shades of solemnity. Roger Ebert complained that the bishops' part, handled by Olivier with a little comical approach, was too talkative and needlessly expositional in the film. Personally, I feel that Branagh wanted to point out that the sort of tacit pressure exercised on the fresh shoulders of the Prince creating a rather stressful situation, Henry V who was in his late twenties wasn't a reknown warmonger but if any war against France could be tainted with legitimacy (the famous Salic wars) he would at least consider it.

The real trigger is the provocation from the Dolphin and the infamous tennis balls destined to mock his inexperience; that moment is the first hint that Branagh had nothing to envy from Olivier and would make him rather proud: the small grin that draws in his face before he can finally decide to turn the provocation back to the French throne is one of the first acting punches he hits and the best is still to come. Branagh might have intended to make a character study out of the play, an indication of the ordeal being a king in war times is, with the whole self-questioning about worthiness of war, when you're left with the Cornelian choice between war and dishonor.

"Henry V" is a legitimate film and the only concession to the play is the chorus (Derek Jacobi) who reveals his modern clothes in the exterior parts. For all its realism, "Henry V" had to open with the iconic "muses of fire" tirade, it lacks the surprise effect of Olivier's film where stage slowly turns into a real background but Branagh opts for these lyrical interludes to keep in line with the play's spirit, a little concession to story before embracing history. The chorus is more a narrator than a ringmaster here.

So the film displays a VIP gallery of British actors: Judi Dench, Robbie Coltrane as Falstaff, a young Christian Bale as the luggage-boy, Emma Thompson as Katherine, Maggie Smith and Paul Scofield who played the tired and worn-down Charles VI. They're all great but the one bravura performance comes from Branagh who delivers the first rousing speech culminating with "To the breach" during the siege of Harfleur. Branagh passes the test wonderfully and at that time never fails to convince us that he's not only the true heir of his royal ancestors but of Laurence Olivier. But while Olivier put them battles in broad daylight emphasizing the naturalness of the location, Branagh turns them into mud and rain with black and brownish tones that make blood make one with dirt... as you would expect from a modern film, the fights are realistic,

The deaths are as impressive as in the most efficient war-movies culminating with a seemingly Pyrrhic victory when the British soldiers triumph but out of despair, French had all squires and page boys killed. The film provides us the most heart-breaking moment with 'Non Nobis and Te Deum' song performed by Patrick Doyle while Henry is carrying young Bale on his back. The track shot is long and the look and pain in his face is genuine but the scene marks the film's own personality and Branagh seems like carrying a legacy of hundreds of year (counting the 1944 adaptation) and he does with such an attachment to his role that he deserved the acting nomination.

He also was nominated for Directing (like Olivier) but didn't win. It's ironic that Mel Gibson would win for a similar film but maybe Gibson had the benefit of 'freedom' (no pun intended) by distancing himself from a previously existing work so he could throw some picturesque quality in the fights and make them look new, if not original. Branagh had no care about poetry in his fight scenes, it's just chaotic, furious, fiery and maybe closest to what the battle would have looked for real. It's still a wonderful tour-de-force from Branagh who revives the film by understanding the value of the play as a war-movie precursor:, as I sad in my review of Olivier's play, it set many templates of the genre and Branagh knew how to transcend them.

The concluding little romance with Emma Thompson is perhaps the one flaw I could agree with Ebert who said the characters weren't so romantically developed to make that ending emotionally rewarding and maybe Branagh would have better left it, but maybe he knew this is a part of the play audiences expect and needed to end his film with something more uplifting, allowing him to display a more relaxed range of emotion.

All in all, this is a glorious superproduction and a wonderful consecration of Branagh as the Olivier of his times.... And I guess I'm also guilty of reviewing by comparaison.