The Music of Henry V
An essay by Jon Trenchard, Music Director, Arrangements & Original Music
Throughout history, mankind has used music to prepare for battle, to march, to show patriotism, solidarity, and camaraderie, to rouse in hardship, and cheer in victory. In this production, our soldiers sing “A Pair Of Brown Eyes” by The Pogues as a marching song, whose jig-like tune contrasts with lyrics about the experience of surviving war:
“Drunk to hell, I stood there nearly lifeless…And a-roving I’ll go For a pair of brown eyes.”
As the song develops, the words become more unsettling:
“But when we got back labeled parts one to three, There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me.”
More folk music appears in “John O’ Dreams” by Bill Caddick as the soldiers attempt to rest before battle.
With our modern setting of Henry V (pre drone warfare), we sing and play a wide variety of musical genres up to the 1970s to evoke different atmospheres: a 19th century hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy” used to introduce Westminster Abbey; and to paint the scene of a pub crammed with troops on the eve of war, we hear a Punk Rock mosh pit mash up of The Clash’s “London Calling,” The Sex Pistol’s “Anarchy in the UK,” and some notorious British soccer chants.
In place of national anthems for our two mighty monarchies, we explore themes of nationalism with Vera Lynn’s “There’ll Always Be An England” and the anthem of the first French Empire, “Le Chant du Depart.” And, exploring the antagonism of modern tribalism, the troops add stadium-style lyrics to their soccer chants to insult the Dauphin.
A traditional Welsh lullaby, “All Through The Night” (a nod to the character Fluellen) becomes another marching song, but with lyrics adapted by the soldiers to reflect the conditions of war (as Tommies often did in the trenches of WWI), one solo voice mutating the “Holy, Holy, Holy” hymn tune to a bitter “Marching, Marching, Marching.”
As a backdrop to the French court, the troops dance to “Ça Plane Pour Moi (It’s all working out for me),” by Plastic Bertrand, and give a tongue-in-cheek rendition of “Chanson D’Amour (Love Song)” by Wayne Shanklin, with snatches of French nursery rhyme “Gentille Alouette” played on a penny whistle.
A new musical theme appears toward the end of the play in “Non Nobis” and “Te Deum”: “Not to us the glory; ‘tis Thee, O God, we praise.” After predominantly unison singing before this moment, this theme develops into ecclesiastical choral harmony, composed around a cycle of fifths, with repeated dissonance, reminds us that the harmony of peace is fragile and fleeting.
Designing Henry V
An essay by Michael Pavelka, Scenic and Costume designer
Designing an epic like Henry V can be an assault course. Just when you think you’ve leapt one hurdle, there’s then a ditch, then a river, and then something even trickier around the bend.
This story has a linear, dynamic journey, so how do we make a space that helps the ensemble keep up the pressure and win the day? Edward Hall and I always try to imagine a world that honors Shakespeare’s intentions but in a contemporary visual language.
We have conceived an interior space— a Fortress England on Navy Pier—in which the darkest fears and proudest euphoria of a soldier’s imaginings can be shared with you across a darkened room.
Our ideas start as doodles in the margins of my script and as notes in Ed’s. They merge to become a third, shared vision for the production that we can present to the company. The scenes always change shape through the rehearsal process when the “tool kit” for telling the story is put through its paces by the company.
The solutions undoubtedly lie in how we allow our audience to “make imaginary puissance.” The objects in the space help to remind you that Shakespeare is dealing with ideas first, and immersion second. For example, the scene in which Pistol beats his French prisoner wouldn’t be as effective if you are asked to witness a stage fight—it wouldn’t be “real” in any sense. So how do we present “real”? Our staging asks the viewer to stitch together disparate violent actions with the dramatic situation. In this instance, the masked chorus thrash punch bags with the full force of baseball bats whilst the characters react without full contact—it’s you that piece the two together with your imaginings of pain with every thwack.
The look of each character is also constructed on stage, in plain sight. For instance, Katherine has the intermission to prepare her image in full view. She is presented with her surprisingly anachronistic gown laden with icons of women at war by Delacroix and Goya – dressed by the troops for her role politically and theatrically. Clothing is deployed as a stylistic idea serving the drama rather than naturalism.
The diversity of this ensemble, both on stage and behind the scenes, has massively stimulated our collaborative process and helped us challenge preconceptions of what warriors and diplomats have always been: ethical and practical problem-solvers.