A couple of hours before opening night there was a pretty heavy shower where I live. This is going to be interesting, I thought, given the New Fortune Theatre is an outdoor venue. I even took a jumper with me. The rain cleared, the night was still, the jumper was never in danger of being required, the peacocks were mute... it was nothing short of a divine evening.
I was uncharacteristically indecisive and ended up in the upper wing, audience left, looking down at the stage. As I absorbed the action before me, gazing at the performers, clearly seeing the audience where I'd normally sit, listening to the immortal words of Shakespeare, I was struck by how otherworldly this was. In the best possible way. A terrific cast, performing an epic tale, written by the greatest playwright of the English language, in a replica venue, on a perfect night. It floated across my mind that theatre doesn't get much better than this.
Afterwards, one of the actors remarked they heard someone laughing from the wings and that they must have known the play. Yes, I laughed. But I do not know the play. What I do recognise is wordplay and japery and an inventiveness of language that has never been matched. When writ large in someone as larger-than-life as Sir John Falstaff the ribaldry is nothing short of intoxicating. A condition Falstaff and his companions are certainly not foreign to.
My vantage point also delivered a stunning visual moment that rocked me; like a spectacular wide shot from a movie that could only have been seen in profile. At the end of the first half, to my right, Prince Hal (Fraser Whitely) is at the rear section of the foot of the stage amongst the audience, head slightly bowed. To my left, Henry IV (Grant Malcolm) is on the stage, behind his imposing desk, in an elevated position compared to his son and wayward heir. Whitely moves slowly down the central aisle, mounts the stairs to the stage, and for the first time ascends to meet his father on his own level. Only to be berated by Henry in a fiery monologue delivered by Malcolm that will not be his last burst of sustained brilliance.
That image, of those two characters at the extremities of, in film language, the frame; the difference in elevation, in posture, and demeanour said EVERYTHING about their respective status and relationship without a word being spoken. It's imprinted on my brain. The act of humble ascension and subsequent rebuke is superb. If I sat where I normally do I would never have seen it. Not like that. Thank you, indecisiveness!
I digress.
This adaptation by director Patrick Downes is the merging of two plays, Henry IV, Parts One and Two. In short, Hotspur (Grace Edwards) has taken up arms against Henry IV (Malcolm) while Henry's son, Prince Hal (Whitely), carouses with the notorious Falstaff and associates. High court politics, battles, and sword fights ensue with plenty of hijinks along the way. Think of it as Game of Thrones without the dragons. In essence it is a story about the son who will assume the mantle of the father and cast aside his rebellious past. All stirring stuff.
Grant Malcolm excels as Henry IV. Regal, commanding, exasperated at his son and the folly of those who oppose him. His monologue towards the end of the play as Henry catches Hal wearing the crown is worth the price of admission alone. Wounded in more ways than one, his Henry is distraught at this act. Malcolm is devastating as he conjures a response of raw emotion until Whitely's Hal seeks to placate him.
Whitely, youthful and exuberant, plays Hal as one of the lads until duty calls and the arc towards regal responsibility is set in motion. It's a likeable and charming performance contrasted by the coldness of Hal's repudiation of his past in the closing moments.
Where Grant Malcolm brings the authority, Michael Lamont brings stout and roundly humour in a fabulous turn as Falstaff. He is never less than captivating as he carouses and cajoles; schemes and pontificates. His speech about honour is a highlight as Lamont shifts gears to bring insight to such a boastful man.
Grace Edwards is all fire and scorn as Hotspur who defies the king and sets in motion the broader political and military machinations. Edwards prowls the stage, her Hotspur restless and discontent, until fury meets destiny in a clash that will define the fortunes of all involved.
The supporting players inhabit multiple roles with skill and flair - Martyn Churcher, notably as Worcester whose deceit ends in calamity; Anna Head, both regal and common as Westmoreland and Doll Tearsheet respectively; Joanne Lamont who moves between inn-keeper and finely accented, rebel nobles; Nic Doig as a vibrant Poins, in particular; Jason Dohle whose Douglas hunts Henry with rare savagery; Andreas Petalas as a sixth man off the bench taking on multiple roles, highbrow and low; and Kaitlyn Barry, quieter yet no less arresting, as Peto and Vernon.
Patrick Downes uses all of the space, however, there's a clear delineation, especially in the first half, like an Elizabethan netball court. The highborn and those of authority are on the raised stage; the lowborn and the fallen Prince Hal perform at the foot of the stage. The traversing of those boundaries, when it comes, is of notable importance until the chaos of battle leads to far more fluid staging in the second half.
Well lit (Fiona Reid), well costumed (Merri Ford), and well staged this is a showpiece for the actors and they deliver in rousing fashion. Music cues were a little off-putting and abrupt to mine ears but maybe that's because the inherent drama and comedy did not need buttressing.
Shakespeare can be difficult for the modern sensibility. I have to tell you though, sitting there, watching a stirring production on a balmy Perth night was pretty damn special. A unique experience and one that's well worth attending.
Henry IV is on at the New Fortune Theatre in the Arts Building of the UWA campus until 22 March.
Photos by Paris Romano Jenner
