Summary 
Solid modernized Henry V depicts an executive boardroom leader with a cast of twelve acting as Chorus. Focus on political and military machinations with the Boars' Head characters omitted. Highlighted by a sparse but cleverly staged, impressionistic vision of the battle at Agincourt.
Design
Directed by Steve Pickering and Kate Buckley. Set and lights by Robert Smith. Costumes by Linda Roethke. Sound by Marty Higginbotham. Fights by Peter Rybolt.
Cast
Brooks Darrah (Exeter), Laura Macknin (Alice), Bruce Orendorf (Henry), Naama Potok (Katherine), David Silvis (French King, Erpingham), Joshua Stamberg (Westmerland, Fluellen), Timothy Thilleman (Mountjoy, Canterbury), Luke Wilkins (Gower, Gloucester).
Analysis
The set for The Next Theatre Company's Henry V evokes the stately atmosphere of a corporate boardroom. The stage is a brightly lit hardwood circle - literally a "wooden O" - within a semi-circle of bookcases. The eight bookcases are regularly spaced around the stage but the top shelves are distorted to irregular angles. Beyond the bookcases is darkness, the only props a curved conference table and three wooden chairs. The design achieves a library-like solemnity that is undercut by the dark twistedness of behind-the-scenes power politics. The set establishes the tone of the production even before it begins, as Henry will be characterized as a malleable young King with penchants for war-mongering and manipulative irresponsibility.
The Chorus is enacted in modern dress by the cast of twelve. They open the production by entering the stage from the darkness behind the bookcases to stand in a half-circle facing the audience. The Prologue is spoken by each actor in individual turn - each with a few lines - and the audience is directly addressed, as it is with subsequent Chorus speeches. The Chorus serves as passive observers, soft-spoken and casual in demeanor, as if they are citizens praising their King. They are separate from the play but soon become a part of it, as the actors quickly assume their characters. The intensity of the acting style then increases to accentuate the many ironies within the play's nationalistic and martial fervor.
Bruce Orendorf's portrayal of Henry provides the foundation for the success of this production. Likeable with boyish good looks and a youthful demeanor, in 1.2 he childishly swings his legs back and forth while sitting on the conference table as the Archbishop and nobles manipulate him into an unjust war, and in 3.1 he sits Indian-style at the gates of Harfleur, pouting in juvenile frustration over the citizens' defiance. But Orendorf convincingly demonstrates Henry's strengthening leadership. In 1.2 he backs the French Ambassador into a corner of the stage with his rising fury at the Dauphin's scorn, and true to the Next's energetic style, he leaps atop the table for the 3.1 "once more unto the breach" war cry, and he single-handedly battles four Frenchmen at once at Agincourt. Lastly - and most vitally - Orendorf, like Henry, adeptly combines likeability with leadership, obscuring but not concealing cold-hearted necessity and selfish aspirations beneath earnest and patriotic oratory. This combination is evident during the essentially repellent scenes Laurence Olivier did not attempt in his 1945 film version: Orendorf's Henry is a wounded and powerless victim before he tricks traitorous "friends" into securing their own death sentences (2.2), then has them shot on-stage; and when Henry threatens the French residents of Harfleur with atrocities (3.3) he speaks with an imploring sadness, placing the blame for the excessive brutality on them due to their continued resistance.
The Boar's Head scenes are completely eliminated from this production, so the plot rarely strays from Henry's political and military struggle with the French. More importantly, with the omission of rejected friendships - and comic relief - from the King's youth, the co-directors sharply focus their thematic approach upon Henry's development from inexperienced new monarch to heroic warrior-King. The production is not so much simplified as it is streamlined and intensified. The pacing is frenzied; with much doubling and no scenery changes, lines are rapidly spoken, sometimes with such quickness and energy that the words are lost, though the meaning is for the most part still discernible. Apart from the solemnity of the 4.1 "touch of Harry" scenes, only the 3.2 international scene and the 5.2 wooing of Katherine provide respite; while the former is an assault of stereotypical accents, the latter is a charming depiction of Henry's innate likeability. With Katherine, Henry is again callow and reactionary, as he was earlier with the Archbishop and nobles. He responds to the Princess with flustered self-deprecation, and he exhibits little confidence and no victorious gloating.
In this production, with its emphasis on ironic martialism, the French hubris is as exaggerated as the English valor, and is depicted with ingenuity during the Agincourt battle scenes. The French soldiers wear dark sunglasses and black berets, and they speak loudly in audacious accents. They constantly pose with bloated self-importance and strut around the stage. After Henry's 4.1 pre-dawn prayer, three French noblemen stride atop the conference table and spin the three chairs backward. They then "ride" as if the chairs are war-horses, their arms outstretched to hold reins and their bodies bounding in gallop. Their arrogance is more pointedly ludicrous due to the absurdity of their actions and appearance.
The light humor of the scene is soon lost, however, in an impressionistic depiction of the ensuing battle. Henry enters and crouches upstage, wielding a heavy sword with one hand. He sharply pounds the hilt onto the wooden floor, keeping rhythmic time like an ominous drumbeat. Four actors - two standing offstage on either side - pantomime the English archery assault. They pretend to aim bows high and make the ominous hissing noise of their arrows' flight. Within a sudden flush of dark red lighting that envelops the stage, the "horseback" Frenchmen jerk and contort as if they are struck with the quickly repeated arrow strikes. Each "killing" is preceded by the hiss of the arrows and is eerily punctuated with Henry's pounding and with flashes of light. More French soldiers appear from between the bookcases, also contorting in the spasmodic dance. Henry overlooks the entire slaughter with sword in hand, the only Englishman onstage, ultimately responsible for the bloodshed despite his later crediting of God.
The supporting performances are uneven in effectiveness - from the stiffly expressionless Exeter to the child-like sweetness of Katherine - but strong enough to overcome any potential cartoonishness. While the production benefits from clear delineation and an energetic pace, credit is mostly due the performance of Orendorf that the heart of this play - the dual nature of a likeable King manipulated into waging a questionable war - beats with such strength.
Note: A version of this article was edited and published in Shakespeare Bulletin, Vol.13, No.3, Summer 1995.