Henry IV Part II: Stratford-upon-Avon, Summer 2000

That same summer study abroad program referenced in the previous post also included another theater trip, which was never going to be the life highlight that seeing Hamlet at The Globe was, but it was wonderful nonetheless.  This portion of the program took us to Stratford-upon-Avon, with time to look around the Shakespeare house/museum, visit Holy Trinity Church, where Shakespeare is buried (and where photo-taking is not permitted, but postcards with photos may be purchased, because apparently only tourists' flashbulbs will steal The Bard's soul), and have dinner before heading to Henry IV Part II at the Swan Theatre, a Royal Shakespeare Company venue.

I am the first to confess that Henry IV Part II is just not one of my favorites.  I love Henry IV Part I and of course, like all reasonable people, I love Henry V, but the middle play has just never done much for me.  I recently admitted in a formal academic venue that I regard Henry IV Part II and The Empire Strikes Back as the theatrical Brussels sprouts I have to choke down before I am allowed the double chocolate cake of Henry V and Return of the Jedi.

All joking aside, I realized that it was a great gift to see a Shakespeare play performed in his hometown, within touching distance of his birthplace and final resting place.  I was also, unfortunately, a bit sick to my stomach for some reason (though luckily for me, the intermission period proved to be the one and only time in my life thus far that the home remedy of a glass of red wine actually worked--thank you  British theatres!) and really just wanted to get back on the bus and get back to the dorm.

So I was tired, a little bored, and a little sick (and to be honest, by this time in the trip getting a little bit homesick, because seriously England, there do not need to be potatoes at every meal and there does need to be LIQUID laundry detergent in the supermarket).  I was ache-y and vulnerable, like the aging king in the play's title (though unlike the character, I would survive the evening), when the house lights went down, the audience settled in, and suddenly black-cloaked actors representing Rumour slid from among the seats and ran toward the stage while delivering the play's opening lines.  For me, anyway, the fourth wall was effectively broken; the surprise and creation of an ominous mood completely worked.

It was, then, the appropriate night for me to see this play for the first time.  All I really knew to (or forced myself to pay attention to) was the famous scene near the end when Prince Hal (later Henry V) accidentally takes his not-yet-dead father's crown, precipitating their final reconciliation.  It worked too.  Like Hamlet, though, this was not a performance that has stayed with me mainly for scholarly reasons but rather for more personal ones.  It was the first time I saw a Shakespeare play indoors.  It was the first time I saw a Shakespeare play performed on either stage or screen without reading it first (I do this all the time now, and I highly recommend it).  It was the first time--and not the last, I confess--that I dragged my sick self who should have been home in bed to the theater for Shakespeare.  It was the first time that I paid at least some faint attention to a Shakespeare play performance as a critic, not just an audience member.  It was also the day I got my "Out, damned spot!" eraser, which doesn't erase a damned thing, which is probably the point.