The Hollow Crown: Henry IV Part 2.

Previously: Henry IV Part 2.

This post is gonna be wayyyyy less in-depth than the one I wrote for Henry IV Part 1 because nothing happens in this play. I'm serious. Maybe there was some heavy editing going on or something but as far as I can tell the only things that happen in Henry IV Part 2: Electric Boogaloo are:

• Random soliloquays about how hard it is to be king.
• The world's greatest collection of Rude Mechanicals, indicating that "LOL, he's a women's tailor" is a joke that remains hilarious for 500 years.
• An extended sequence of Tom Hiddleston's oiled and gleaming torso.
• Sad Falstaff.
• The King is dead; long live the King.

"I just can't wait to be King!"

It was like one of those situations when there's a really awesome, successful movie, and then someone's like, "OK, let's get a sequel up in this joint!" except instead of writing a whole new story they just erase most of the character development from the first movie and try to do it all over again a second time. Although this time round there's little to no plot, and the supervillain was defeated at the end of the last movie so instead of a battle there's just an awful lot of tragicomedy scenes involving an old fat conman slowly sinking into gout, despair and failure along with his new collection of comedy sidekicks. I don't know much about the circumstances surrounding the writing of this play, but I can easily imagine Queen Elizabeth writing to Shakespeare all, "More of this Falstaff fellow, my man! He makes one LOL!" and Shakespeare sobbing into his inkwell as he tries in vain to think up something interesting that happened to Henry V in the years leading up to his coronation.

Unlike in Part 1 when Prince Hal was front and centre as a modern coming-of-age protagonist, Part 2 saw Falstaff in the foreground as a kind of decaying Captain Jack Sparrow figure, unwillingly succumbing to his many debtors in his old age. Simon Russell Beale struck a pretty good balance between playing a sympathetic Falstaff and being outright unlikeable (the first being rather difficult and the second being all too easy), partially because the people Falstaff was taking advantage of were so damn stupid. I spent a significant chunk of this play throwing rotten turnips at Mistress Quickly's head because she just kept getting taken in by Falstaff's wafer-thin scams. I wanted to like her because I'm a Strong Female Character myself and feel a duty to the sisterhood, but sisterhood only goes so far when girlfriend is letting Falstaff eat her out of house and home again instead of letting him be sent to debtor's prison. Also, the girl who hangs out in Mistress Quickly's tavern? Why is she into Falstaff all of a sudden! He obviously has no money, he's super unappealing in every conceivable way, and just last week she was getting to make out with Golden Prince Hal himself! There's a pretty strong implication that she's at least a part-time prostitute, but that kind of just brings me back to the whole "Falstaff has no money" thing. On the whole, the person who consistently had the best reaction to Falstaff was this guy:

This kid was the Henry IV Part 2 equivalent of the hilarious reaction-shot characters we saw in Richard II. Throughout Falstaff's gradual deterioration into the realm of true awfulness, this boy was on hand to remove Falstaff's boots and pour him more wine, apparently for no pay whatsoever. (Which, come to think of it, sounds alarmingly similar to the type of internships my generation are currently suffering through en masse.) All the while he is barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes at every person around him, presumably because his keen young mind is as-yet unmarred by decades of alcoholism. I have no doubt that he'll grow up to be an excellent Calm Thou Tits character, of which this play has many. Shakespeare loves to include these guys: bit-part characters who show up to say "Are you really sure you want to murder the King?" whenever one of the protagonists is foaming at the mouth about love, kingship, patriotism, etc. Henry IV Part 2 saw the old King Henry followed hither and yon by a whole troupe of Calm Thou Tits courtiers, including Ser Jorah from Game Of Thrones. (Which was super exciting for me because whenever Ser Jorah appears onscreen in Game Of Thrones, I immediately sacrifice a gallon of tears to the gods of romance because his slavish loyalty to his Khaleesi is food for my soul.)

"Calm thou tits, my lord!"

Aside from our nameless hero, Falstaff's Boy, this was a play about distinctly unappealing people. Prince Hal's evolution from carefree adolescent to royal hero in Part 1 seems to have regressed a little in the interim, leaving him to lounge around with Poins while he waits for father to die. I feel like the Hal we see this time round comes across a lot more feckless because we've seen that he can do better, but he still goes back to his old ways of spying on Falstaff and failing to live up to his duties when his father needs him the most. He tells Poins that he's upset about his father's illness, but his younger brothers are all either by his father's side at court or busy fighting rebels while he and Poins oil each other up and giggle. When it finally comes to it, Hal's rejection of Falstaff gives every appearance of being needlessly cruel. All through the play King Henry's messengers have been hounding Falstaff down as a bad influence on Hal when he and Hal are barely even in touch any more. Falstaff is a moocher and a con-artist, but Hal really doesn't seem like someone who needs outside help to get into trouble.

If you enjoy scenes made out of pure, nail-biting frustration, look no further than Prince Hal taking the crown from his father's pillow. Look, if you're going to take the crown from your father, check to see if he's dead first! This is basic shit, dude! As it is, there's this long scene that contained what I can only imagine were some potentially enthralling emotions and soliloquays and what-have-you, but the audience are paying way more attention to the door because clearly the still-breathing king is about to burst in at any moment and demand his crown back. By the time Jeremy Irons did lurch into the room, my friends and I had all practically shouted ourselves hoarse from yelling "Take it off! Take it off!" at Prince Hal. And not in a Magic Mike way.

I have no idea if Hal's brothers have a larger role in Henry V, but this scene really made me hope that they do. Prince Hal, who up until now has spent the majority of his time getting drunk and playing pranks on people (interspersed with semi-regular bouts of navel-gazin), has rolled up to the palace to ponder the meaning of kingship in the couple of hours prior to his ailing father's demise. And then he nabs the crown before his dad's even kicked it. I realise that this is a powerful scene and that the brilliant thing about Hal is that he isn't quite ready for power, and that power changes him irrevocably, but -- what do the brothers think? Are they bitter about the fact that they've been standing by their father all this time while all Hal has to do is waltz in and claim the throne? What? Has anyone ever written a fanfic play about Prince Hal's little brothers? Is it like Game of Thrones? Enquiring minds want to know.

To no surprise whatsoever, Jeremy Irons' role was even more impressive here than in Part 1. Now close to death, his frame seems to shrink in on itself, partly helped along by the fact that he spends most of the play in ragged nightgowns rather than the more imposing robes of office he was wearing in the days before Hotspur's rebellion. Also he only appears at night, murkily lit to a grey pallor as he staggers around the throne room by himself, lonely and exhausted. Dressed in a soft, closely-fitted velvet jacket, Prince Hal looks even more lithe and youthful by comparison, and far more subdued than he was before he entered the palace. The most significant difference, though, was the lighting. The scenes we see of Henry IV's rule all seem to take place during the witching hours, with everyone's skin looking drawn and haggard in the grey-blue light. As soon as Hal is crowned, though, the throne room takes on the red-gold tones it had during Richard's reign, and Hal himself seems to glow with youth and vitality.

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The Hollow Crown: Henry IV, Part 1.

Previously: The Hollow Crown: Richard II.

I was a little more prepared this time round because unlike with Richard II, I'd actually seen this play before. And, perhaps, Prince Hal's story is easier to follow than Richard's because he's a less ambiguous protagonist -- a character you can root for. Richard's flamboyant incompetence was entertaining to watch, but was distinctly unheroic. For all that Richard II was aesthetically pleasing, it didn't have the same gleeful excitement of Henry IV, with its clear-set coming-of-age journey for Prince Hal and its cast of crowd-pleasing comedy sidekicks. Falstaff's constant supply of old-fat-coward jokes may have been designed for an audience of 16th-century drunks, but I'm easily pleased and found him hilarious. (Possibly because I have the spirit of a 16th-century drunk.)

Tom Hiddleson as Prince Hal was, put simply, totally awesome. I'd been looking forward to this play in particular both because I love Henry IV/Henry V story, and because Tom Hiddleston was clearly such brilliant casting. And having seen it? I'm now coming to understand why Tumblr is basically a giant online shrine to Tom Hiddleston. Within about fifteen seconds of him coming onscreen I had little hearts in my eyes like an anime character, like, what was even happening. Hiddleston's Prince Hal is so charming and handsome that I'm now desperate to see him play a genuinely unappealing character. Because, you know, the only other thing I've really seen him in is his role as Loki in Thor and The Avengers, who despite being a villain is still pretty lovable. I found myself comparing the two, and the one thing that stands out between them is Hiddleston's ability to play royalty. The level of automatic, commanding entitlement both Loki and Hal display is wonderful, although they show it in very different ways.

It didn't take me long to realise: The Female Gaze is strong with this one. Seriously, the camera loves Prince Hal. And, you know, virile young men in general, most of them dressed in tight leather jerkins unlaced at the throat. In Richard II there were a lot of luxurious panning shots of Richard's gold-plated everything, but it wasn't really... affectionate? Richard was an intrinsically weak character, protected by his royal blood and riches as he teetered on the brink of being deposed by stronger men. Prince Hal, on the other hand, has the potential to be a strong and charismatic leader but hasn't yet been given the chance to fulfil that potential. I feel like the director of Richard II was taking a rather unlikeable character and trying to make him as entertaining and sympathetic as possible while still highlighting and mocking his flaws, whereas with Henry IV we had a protagonist who was already really appealing, being played as sexy and fun as possible by an actor who is apparently able to conjure charisma out of nowhere.

Here we come to one of those moments when it becomes abundantly clear why I'm not a "real" reviewer, because this whole next part is going to be about how Tom Hiddleston is super dreamy. (Oh, if only this were an exaggeration.) First of all, that thing I was saying about the Female Gaze? Look no further than the costuming. This quote refers to Henry V rather than Henry IV, but I think it's still relevent:

"...while I wanted it to be set in the period, I wanted it to have some kind of modern feel. Things like Tom’s jackets. And I didn’t want him to have a bowl haircut, I wanted him to have a look that wasn’t just accessible, but attractive. He was in “Avengers Assemble”, for goodness sake! He’s an amazing, beautiful-looking man." -- Thea Sharrock, director of Henry V.

The costume designer for Henry IV Part 1 must have taken a very long look at Tom Hiddleston and thought, "What looks good on this guy?" He's tall, he's slim, his performance is very energetic and physical, and they put him in a form-fitting leather jerkin and trousers, with the jacket open at the neck at all times. The result? Large portions of the film are scenes where the camera lovingly caresses Poins and Hal's exposed collarbones as they share drunk LOLs about their latest prank on Falstaff. I think Shakespeare would approve.

Another reason why Hiddleston was perfect casting: his age. I assume that in the original setting Prince Hal was intended to be significantly younger, but at 31 Tom Hiddleston is ideal for our modern perception of an over-priveleged man-child. He looks boyish, but he definitely isn't a boy. This Hal isn't so much forced into adulthood by Hotspur's threats of war as he is waiting for something to force him into adulthood from the very first scenes of the play. From the start there's a certain feeling of melancholy, as if Hal already knows that he's coming to the end of his time as a wastrel in the streets of Eastcheap. It's practically a coming-of-age teen/college movie cliche. It's easy to interpret Hal's pranks with Poins and Falstaff as immature and thoughtless, but in this adaptation it was almost as if Hal was being set up as a future king from step one: charismatic, able to command the respect and affection of his followers, and with an actual brain in his head (even if he's only using it to fool his father's messengers and play tricks on his friends). Compared to the aging, angry King Henry, it's surprisingly easy to see Hal as future leader of men. This is, I suppose, the luxury of television: they can cast the same actor for Prince Hal and Henry V, and show all three plays in quick succession, which onstage would be more or less impossible.
I can't wait to see Jeremy Irons in the next play. Towards the end of Part 1 he looked like he was on death's door, grey-faced to match the morbid darkness of his clothes and castle. It was very easy to imagine this Henry as the aging, frustrated continuation of the Henry Bolingbroke we see in Richard II, his gloomy court a direct reaction to the frivolous extravagance of Richard's reign. This play may have been set before the reformation, but King Henry was practically a protestant before his time -- surrounded by rigidly black-mantled courtiers in a huge, empty grey stone throne room with no lit candles, and swaddled up to the chin in thick black furs and scarves. I particularly loved this aspect of Henry's costuming: imposing but not exactly kingly, what with the ratty grey scarves and knit cap.

HAT FACTS: according to Jeremy Irons, bobble hats were invented for soldiers to wear under their helmets, with the bobble acting as a cushion in the top point of the helmet. I really hope this is true, partly because it's interesting and partly because I want Jeremy Irons to be a secret knitwear expert.

One of the reasons why Henry IV Part 1 is my favourite is the plethora of drunk rap-battles. I mean, if you don't appreciate Falstaff and Prince Hal exchanging insults in front of a baying audience of drunks and bar-wenches, I don't even know what to do with you. And, of course, there's Prince Hal's impression of his father. Tom Hiddleston is known for doing excellent impersionations of his co-stars, and his Jeremy Irons was brilliant. Pictures barely do it justice. He even added a scarf and hat. Even moreso than the scene where King Henry gives Hal the "stop being a wastrel" speech, Hiddleston's Jeremy Irons impression convinced me that he really was the King's firstborn son. 

Was it just me or were some of Hotspur's scenes cut from this adaptation? I'm not particularly familiar with the play, but I'm pretty sure that when I saw it onstage Hotspur had far more scenes, particularly with his wife. Either way, Hotspur and his wife were H I L A R I O U S. They were 100% that annoying couple who are always macking on each other and/or having loud, public arguments all the time with no consideration for the people around them. Michelle Dockery (as Hotspur's wife) didn't get much screentime but boy did she make the most of it. One of the things I love about this play is the quantity of opportunities for humour outside of the typical Shakespearean comic fixtures, and the Hotspur/Kate relationship is totally one of those opportunities. In the Welsh Wife scene, which in earlier times might have been a chance for some straight-up "LOL, Wales" jokes, this time round we get Kate making hilarious bitchfaces at Hotspur, a mixture between, "Why aren't you like this, huh?" and "What the hell is up with these two lovebirds, anyway?" And of course, they then proceed to make out in front of everyone as all the other characters politely look at the walls and wait for them to go away. PERFECTION.

I don't feel like the movie suffered from the seeming absense of Hotspur, though, because this adaptation seemed to focus so closely on Prince Hal's own journey rather than the Hotspur/Henry conflict. If anything, until we reached the final battle Hotspur seemed more like a secondary character than a major antagonist. That battle is also the moment when we finally see Prince Hal begin to harden into something more like his father. Before that he's very emotional -- either joking around with his mates at the tavern, or emoting tragically at the camera because oh boy is Tom Hiddleston good at that. But when we reach the battle with Hotspur and the Northerners, Hal seems to age ten years, finally taking up the burden of kingship. 

Regular readers may know that I enjoy armour. There's a tag for it and everything. The armour worn for the Battle of Shrewsbury appealed to me for two reasons: its basic utilitarianism and its relationship, character-wise, with the costumes of last week's Richard II. Although this play takes place a generation after Richard II, in many ways it seems like it's set in an earlier period of history. Richard's court was a place of luxury and beauty, and even his armour was a complex work of art, glistening gold from head to toe. His enemy Henry Bolingbroke, however, was the precise opposite:

Maybe I'm just looking too closely at this because I'm an armour fanatic and have a Game Of Thrones tattoo on my face and am secretly married to Loki on the astral plane, but I can totes see the evolution of the Richard-Henry-Hal reigns in the way they dress for battle. First of all, the young Henry Bolingbroke barely does dress for battle. He's always ready. And taking into account the fact that Richard II and Henry IV had different costume designers and very different aesthetics, there's surprisingly little difference between the appearance of the young Henry Bolingbroke and the Henry we see in Henry IV Part 1. The Northern practicality and toughness of Henry Bolingbroke (which in Richard II seemed like such a stark contrast with Richard's sparklicious, un-dented armour) has aged into a kind of chilly, monochromatic austerity, which in the battlefield translates to the King sitting stiff-spined on horseback in his grey woollen hat, trying not to show any evidence of his unspecified terminal illness. At the end of Richard II it was almost as if Henry Bolingbroke didn't want to be king, and in this play it certainly doesn't appears to be enjoying it. While Hal, it seems, is a golden prince who was born to rule.

Prince Hal seems distant from both Richard and his father: neither frivolous nor grim. He's young and fun-loving, but he's still a capable warrior for all that he breaks away from his father's sternness. His armour is flexible and lightweight and, I think, considerably more period-appropriate than the intricate costume armour worn by Richard in the previous installment. Call me weird, but I really appreciated the simplicity of Hal's armour, and that it didn't particularly set him apart from any of the other knights -- although, of course, the commoners only got chainmail or leather. I'll be interested to see how that continues in later films, because Thea Sharrock, the director of Henry V, mentioned specifically that she and Hiddleston had tried to make their version of Henry V as much of a man of the people as possible.

Oh, Falstaff. Finally we come to you. Falstaff's a tricky one because he's just. So. Preposterous. The humour of Falstaff is so bound by old-fashioned slapstick that the filmmakers must have decided to put extra emphasis on the tragic side of his character this time round, giving him a hint of Sam Gamgee loyalty as he half-seriously begs Hal not to abandon him at the end of the rap-battle scene, complete with an emotive soundtrack. I expect some people would find this maudlin, but I was OK with it, particularly since the next film should build on that. We already got some closure to the Falstaff/Hal relationship at the end of this film, though, as Prince Hal, fresh from battle and finally coming into his own as an adult and a warrior, allows Falstaff one final deception. Also, one final Tom Hiddleston grin, something I doubt we'll be seeing as much of in the next two films.

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