Page 93 - Shakespeare in the Movie From the Silent Era to Shakespeare in Love

82 I Shakespeare in the Movies

to once more be at one with the old tavern crowd. This Henry still
possesses the common touch but is removed by responsibilities of
office. In Olivier's version, Henry's youthful experiences are barely
mentioned, since they were the momentary madness of immaturity
and are now irrelevant. In Branagh's version, the ghosts of the past
haunt Henry, which necessitated flashbacks to the old days at Mis-
tress Quickly's tavern. These scenes, lifted from Henry IV, Part II,
are lit in the style of Rembrandt, with the richly colored past
absolutely glowing, as opposed to the grim present, which is cap-
tured in unglamorous natural lighting.
Even as the portrait of kingship is decidedly different, so, too, is
Branagh's reenactment of Agincourt. Here the horrific fighting takes
place in the midst of a muddy field, under dark skies and in a
somber atmosphere. The emphasis is on the brutality of hand-to-
hand, medieval-style warfare. This perfectly expresses Branagh's late-
eighties realistic sensibility (he admitted to watching Oliver Stone's
Platoon before filming), as compared to Olivier's romantic portrayal
of combat. Olivier's Agincourt was imbued with the "good war" sen-
sibility of World War II, while Branagh reached back to the grimness
of World War I with men squatting in the muck and squalor of
soaked slit trenches, captured by the camera in intimate close-to-
medium ranges. In each case, the director's technical choices com-
municate his point of view.
Branagh's character derives his strength from an absolute trust
that God is on his side, implicit but not emphasized in the Olivier
version. Henry's prayer to the Lord (in which he humbly asks for-
giveness for Henry IV's transgressions, pleading that the sins of the
father not be visited upon this son) is as central to Branagh's vision
as it was peripheral in Olivier's. If we do believe these English will
ultimately win, it can only be because of divine intervention, for
their leader demonstrates no notable quality other than absolute
faith. No wonder Branagh had musical director Pat Doyle include
"Non nobis domine" ("Not unto us, O Lord, but unto thy name give
glory"), sung by Henry's troops, during the postvictory march. Con-
versely, the stirring orchestral score William Walton provided for
Olivier suggested that Henry won the triumph due to his innate
skills—which, in fact, the real Henry did.
Nowhere, though, is the directorial difference between Branagh
and Olivier so clear as in their choice of framing devices. Olivier's
artistic contrivance is rightly one of the best-loved moments in all
Shakespearean cinema, where the camera pans over a detailed re-