The silver-tongued RSC has come to town with a mastery that should have lesser mortals quaking in their Stanislavsky-tooled boots. Behold the gold standard of acting (lest we forget) for it was a joy to witness such contagious passion, consummate vocal projection and linguistic pellucidity in the service of the Bard. Thanks to this rigour, the playwright's text in all its glory - shorn of obfuscation, ersatz transpositions of epoch, or modish costume changes - reigns supreme.
       The company has decamped to the Roundhouse for this exposition of Henry IV Parts 1 and 2 (heroically sandwiched between Richard II and Henry V across two days) as one of two cycles making up the landmark, chronological production of all eight Shakespeare History Plays first premiered at Stratford. It memorably begins again in London after two years, boasting a number-crunching ensemble cast of 34 actors; 72 costume rails and 264 roles: the very first time that the History Cycle has been performed by one company of actors! Creative Director Michael Boyd has much to be proud of in his stewardship of this endeavour. Tom Piper's brave, existential setting consists of a stark, copper-clad tower whose layered geometric purity offers just enough permutations to support the action, without competing. Against this backdrop, thrilling Circle du Soleil-style acrobatics are enacted from a mass of tightropes temporarily suspended from the roof whenever tension, combat or battle mounts. Hurrah for all the brave protagonists who seemingly took life and limb in hand as they soared above our heads, bat-like, from stall to stall. In counterpoint, Emma Williams' wardrobe is historical but understated - warriors girded with token armorial casings suggesting combat in a subversive, aesthetic form. Both serve the audience's eye to a tee, underpinning dialogue without distracting bread-and-butter stalwarts.
       Henry IV Part 1, and its slightly stunted twin, Part 2 - rarely performed without the former - is a closely observed (if creatively licentious) portrayal of the reprobate prince turned god-like ruler career-trajectory. 'Truant to chivalry', the self-aware Prince Hal, 'redeems his lost opinion' by vanquishing 'valiant rebel' Hotspur. His father Henry IV, forever dreamt of leading a crusade abroad, yet sowed the diversionary seeds of sedition at home when failing to reward Hotspur's father, the Duke of Northumberland, for supporting his successful 'deposition' of Richard II. He is uneasy in his guilt - not to mention jealous of his rival's son Hotspur, in comparison with heir-apparent Hal.
Clive Wood is magnificent as Henry IV in his prime: lion-like and declamatory, yet evincing sufficient pathos for us to flinch, when strength and power, finally desert him. If anything, he is ill-served by the king's diminuition; for seeing him in a 'wheelchair' we wince where once we wondered. Lex Shrapnel is a tip-top Hotspur - possibly out-acting Geoffrey Streatfeild's Prince Hal in passion and chirascuro. Streatfeild is handsome, young and winning: yet his accent wavers and a vaguely pusillanimous manner does not quite cut the mustard.
       As regards Eastcheap and its 'counter culture' lifestyle, David Warner's dour folk-hero Falstaff is an unexpectedly complex individual. Fans abound of this supposedly hilarious character, yet Warner gives him more depth than one expects. Cad, wastrel and braggart, his shameless turn as a venal war-time rabble-rouser is still despicable, despite Warner's charisma. One never quite forgives him for his shameless opportunism - thus it is no great stretch to repudiate him (with Hal) at the second play's climax. Do unto others as you would be done by is the corpulent knight's belated lesson.
Caroline Kellett Fraysse