Henry V (1989) - film review

Early in 15th century England, representatives of the Church urge the recently crowned King Henry V to invade France, since he has a legitimate claim to the country’s throne.  Offended by a visit from the French Dauphin, Henry makes up his mind to raise an army and seize the crown of France.  Victorious after a protracted siege at Harfleur, the King’s army moves on to Calais for a decisive battle against the French, at Agincourt...

Few directorial debuts were as spectacular or as universally hailed as Kenneth Branagh’s and today his gloriously cinematic production of Henry V rates highly as one of the greatest Shakespearean film adaptations of all time, matched only by Branagh’s subsequent, even more ambitious Hamlet (1996).  No other film director (with the notable exception of Laurence Olivier) has done more to bring Shakespeare to a modern mainstream audience than Branagh, and his evident love of the Bard’s great plays illuminates all of his Shakespeare adaptations, in particular his astonishing debut feature, Henry V.  

Back in 1944, Laurence Olivier made his directing debut with another grand adaptation of the same play.  An unashamed propaganda piece intended to restore the flagging morale of the British people during the dark days of WWII, this film downplayed the uglier aspects of warfare which Branagh, by contrast, embraces fully in his far more realistic version.  It is fascinating to compare the two films - both are inspired, truncated versions of Shakespeare’s play and yet each is perfectly suited to the audience it addresses, exemplifying not only the universality and timelessness of Shakespeare’s work but also its capacity to be reworked, re-imagined and made relevant for successive generations.

Like Olivier’s now legendary production, Branagh’s film is a masterpiece of design and dramatic artistry, performed with relish by some of the most prestigious British actors of the day.  Branagh excels in the title role and gives his most mesmeric screen performance to date as the young king determined to prove himself a worthy successor to his father.  His delivery of the famous St Crispen’s Day speech deserves to rank as one of the great rallying cries in film history, so powerfully moving and uplifting that you have to force yourself not to leap out of your chair and cheer at the end of it.  And yet Branagh is just one member of a remarkable ensemble of talent that includes such luminaries as Derek Jacobi, Ian Holm, Judi Dench, Paul Schofield, Emma Thompson, Geraldine McEwan and Richard Briers.  Derek Jacobi grabs our attention right from the off as the Chorus, an anachronistic wraith-like figure that keeps cropping up like a master hypnotist to ensure that the spectator remains constantly in the film’s vice-like thrall.

In some ways it is a shame that Branagh felt the need to downplay some of the more humorous elements of the play, as these provided some welcome comic relief from its darker aspects (of which there are plenty).  One inspired touch is the inclusion of flashbacks referencing Henry IV Parts I and II, to illustrate the sacrifices the young King Henry has had to make in the name of duty, although some other trims and edits jar a little for those who are familiar with the play.  Falstaff’s three stooges are no longer comedy characters, but tragically fated scoundrels whose function is merely to highlight the nobility and courage of other characters, brave soldiers willing to die for a just cause under King Henry’s banner.  The sequence in which Geraldine McEwan tries to teach English to Emma Thompson provides a rare comic excursion, although so comprehensively do both actresses mangle their lines that their French dialogue is practically unintelligible - a braver director would have cut this scene altogether.

If the film occasionally disappoints it can hardly fail to impress with its harrowingly authentic re-enactment of the Battle of Agincourt - a gruelling spectacle of gore that evokes little of the pageantry of Medieval combat but all of its unmitigated savagery.  The sombre scene that follow this gruesome bout of bloodletting is the most sombre and moving in the entire film, thanks in part to Patrick Doyle’s evocative ’Non Nobis, Domine’ theme.  You can’t help wondering that the film would have had greater impact if it had ended at this point - what ensues is pretty well an anti-climax, Henry’s endearingly gauche attempts to win Catherine de Valois as his queen.   The film garnered Branagh two Oscar nominations (for Best Director and Best Actor), but it took just one award, for its costume design.   Branagh was able to content himself with the Best Director BAFTA and a host of lesser awards, which doubtless encouraged him to attempt several other lavish Shakespearean adaptations: Much Ado About Nothing (1993), Hamlet (1996), Love’s Labour’s Lost (2000) and As You Like It (2006).  The Bard of Avon can still work his magic.

© filmsdefrance.com 2012

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