Lantern's Henry V (2nd review)

I used to argue with my former boss at the Walnut Street Theater, who said Shakespeare was "cultural castor oil"— something that people attend because they think it's good for them, not because they like it. That didn't stop me from attending Shakespeare productions with relish from that day to this. But part of me does wonder whether most people do indeed see Shakespeare— or at least his history plays— in that light.

The best antidote for such misgivings may well be the Lantern Theater's artistic director, Charles McMahon.

For Henry V, his annual serving of the Bard, McMahon again kept the scenes crackling from one to the next. He also demonstrated his trademark capacity for choreographing a small ensemble (just two women and six men), whom he launched like unerring cannonballs from all corners of the stage so that, blended with Michael Kiley's percussive sound design, they credibly replicated the entire Battle of Agincourt.

From mistress to king

For the audience, the fascination of this Henry V lay as much in the multiple roles assumed by the actors as in the story. The instant onstage costume changes provided one of my favorite moments, when the outstanding English actor Mal Whyte peeled off a wig and cap, skirt, and well-padded bodice to go from the randy Mistress Quickly of the Boar's Head Tavern to a stately king of France with hardly a breath in between.

Jake Blouch demonstrated similar range as a grim and battle-ready Dauphin, as well as the bumbling Pistol, Falstaff's old drinking buddy who finds himself in the army.

As the Chorus, Krista Apple-Hodge's mellifluous yet high-energy performance moved the audience breathlessly from one locale to the next. Her gestures orchestrated seamless transitions between the play's theatrical bones and the 15th-Century world of King Henry V: actors surrounded her for her opening monologue, tutting and purring through stretches and arm-circles as if warming up for the show, before she cued the house lights down with an enthusiastic sweep of her arm.

Apple-Hodge went on to alternately saucy and sober turns as a messenger between the French and English courts (toting tennis balls of great portent) and a lady-in-waiting to the French princess Katherine (K.O. DelMarcelle). The French flowed as smoothly as the English, and with such expressive, focused performances on the part of the two ladies that the audience didn't miss a beat.

A king's conscience

As Henry, Ben Dibble commanded my attention not by his regal force but by his sensitivity, especially in the first half. The script overflows with talk of the ravages of battle— wailing widows, bashed and bleeding severed limbs— but in Dibble's quiet portrayal the heaviest burden seems to be the king's troubled conscience. (Imagine grappling not only with the justification of war but the whole regicide debacle that got you on throne in the first place.)

One quibble: So forceful is Dibble's diction in Henry's St. Crispin Day speech that Drew Billiau's lights caught sprays of spit that seem to defy physics, arcing far across the stage. In a theater so intimate that you can smell an actor's cigarette break after intermission, you can't help wondering: can Shakespearean actors — especially those performing in intimate venues— curb their spittle for the sake of the folks in the front row?

♦


To read another review by Robert Zaller, click here.