Summary 
A black-and-white episode in a made-for-television production of a cycle of Shakespeare's the War of the Roses history plays. Like previous installments, the second part of Henry V plays is a straight-forward and traditional telling, well-spoken and acted with speed and clarity. More a filmed stage play than a cinematic endeavor, but with multiple cameras and musical scoring. Interesting and dramatic but lacking in visual excitement, especially the crucial battle at Agincourt, which is depicted in brief and poorly realized images.
Design
Directed by Michael Hayes. An Age of Kings Episode 8. 0:57. BBC Television. Original air date August 4th, 1960.
Cast
William Squire (Chorus), Robert Hardy (Henry V), John Ringham (Gloucester), Patrick Garland (Bedford), Gordon Gostelow (Thomas Erpington), George A. Cooper (Pistol), Kenneth Farrington (Fluellen), John Warner (Dauphin), Julian Glover (Westmoreland), Noel Johnson (Exeter), Robert Lang (Montjoy), Thomas Harley (Boy), Alan Rowe (King of France), Edgar Wreford (Burgundy), Judi Dench (Katherine), Yvonne Coulette (Alice).
Analysis
Michael Hayes begins the second part of Henry V - subtitled The Band of Brothers - with the Chorus' introduction to the 4.1 Little Touch of Harry in the Night scene. The eighth episode of the BBC's An Age of Kings features the second half of Shakespeare's Henry V, with the Chorus emerging from a background of battlefield tents, approaching a static camera shot to full close-up, speaking directly to the audience. The Chorus, his voice hushed as if to not disturb the soldiers resting nearby, describes how the presence of the King allows the warriors to pluck "comfort from his looks," and Hayes chooses to excise the angrier words - and exchange of gloves - between the disguised King and Williams. Thomas Hardy's Henry, with a dark cloak over his head, insists that the King "would not wish himself anywhere than where he is" and as Hayes' camera pans from soldier to soldier, "his cause being just and his quarrel honorable." Hayes, with the cutting of the Archbishop's machinations from Episode 7 as well as the questionable honor of the "tricking" of Williams here, stresses the majesty of Henry rather than his culpability ("every subject's soul is his own") and concludes their fire-lit discussion with "be friends, you English fools."
Hardy's Henry then takes out a rosary, puts his hands together, and kneels to pray, looking directly into the camera as he insists he should not be held responsible for his father's usurpation of Richard II, then closing his eyes - "more will I do" - to promise further atonement, before Gloucester helps him to stand.
After 4.2, another glimpse at the hubris of five French nobles, Hayes provides a matching cut 4.3 to five English soldiers, discussing the odds of five-to-one against them. Hardy's Henry appears from the background - "wish not one man more" - and after Pistol tries to leave but is halted, Henry climbs atop a platform for the St. Crispin's Day speech as his men gather round and begin to smile. Hardy's Henry hits all the high points in his impassioned speech - "this story shall the good man teach his son," "we few, we happy few," and "all things are ready, if our minds be so" - and crosses himself as Montjoy the French herald appears. Henry turns his back to the camera as his soldiers march toward then beyond it, then turns and follows in an awkward conclusion.
The dramatic battle against all odds at Agincourt is weakly presented, a surprise after the compact emotional drama of the previous Signs of War episode. A shot of clouds gathering overhead is double exposed with close-up images of running feet, first in one direction, then in the opposite direction, an insipid visualization of the conflict. As trumpets blare, Hayes dissolves the shot into a narrow glimpse of the sides clashing, then a close-up of Henry's face. Hayes cuts 4.5 and edits the Exeter scene from 4.6, and he pointedly moves Henry's command to kill the French prisoners to after the 4.7 murder of the baggage boys by French soldiers. Hardy's Henry, blood on his temple and running down the side of his face, shows his anger - "not a man of them we shall take shall taste our mercy" - and fails to realize he and his soldiers have won the battle. Once told by Montjoy that the battle is over - "the day is yours" - Henry falls to knees, "praised be God," then rises to the praise of fellow Welshman Fluellen, who kneels to kiss his hand. The startlingly lackluster battle scene, presented with such an excess of speed and complete lack of dramatic import, diminishes the intensity of Henry's words. With the 4.8 clash between Fluellen and Williams of course excised, Henry reads the list of battlefield dead, noting 10,000 dead French and a slew of nobles - "here was a royal fellowship of death" - then a short list of English lords. Hardy's overwhelmed Henry is barely able to speak - "o God, thou arm was here" - and turns to the camera in tight close-up as the men begin to sing Te Deum and march past him. The Chorus concludes the limply realized scene with a close-up smile, turning the action "back again to France."
Hayes' 5.1 is an unpleasant depiction of Pistol's comeuppance at the hands of Fluellen. Amid background singing and celebration over the victory, the Ancient Pistol struts in like a turkey-cock, and the previously gallant Fluellen seems crude and rude - "you scurvy lousy knave" - as well as sadistically vindictive, as he forces a kneeling Pistol to eat a raw leek, then beats him on the helmet and visor ("throw none away") as he tries to chew. Intended as humor, the scene plays poorly, as Pistol remains on his knees after everyone exits, and his complaints to the camera - "from my weary limbs honor is cudgeled" - seem understandable because Nell has passed away and now "to England will I steal, and there I'll steal." Pistol also gives a Falstaff-like thumbs-up to the notion that he should claim his bruises from Fluellen's beating are badges of courage from the war against the French.
Hayes provides a fine 5.2 to conclude the episode with its best scene, showing Hardy's Henry amid fanfares, descending stairs to the right of the French court - "health to you all" - to meet the French royalty. Hayes' camera finds Burgundy's pleas for peace from a low angle, panning to Henry's insistence that the French "buy that peace" as he takes Judi Dench's Katherine by the hand - "she is our principal demand" - and leads her to a garden outside. Hardy's Henry, clearly out of his element in a romantic interlude, takes off his crown, puts his foot on the bench upon which Kate sits, then removes his foot and wipes the spot, breaking into smiles and chuckles throughout their dialogue. When he tries to "clap hands in a bargain" then to kiss her, she squeals and pulls away, so he tosses her train from the bench and sits beside her, pouring his heart out ("a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon") before kneeling before her: "take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a King." When Dench's Katherine moves behind a column, Henry blocks her escape with his arm, squelching her reluctance to kiss because it is not in the fashion with, "we are the makers of manners." After a pair of increasingly passionate kisses - "there is witchcraft in your lips, Kate" - Alice clears her throat and the King of France returns to put his hand over theirs in a blessing. They kiss each other quickly three more times before exiting in opposite directions as Hayes' camera pans slowly back to a long shot of the court. The Chorus then appears in the foreground, raising his hand to dim the light and walking to a coffin that apparently is the resting place of the youthful Henry V. He rests a gentle hand on the coffin and speaks of Henry VI as trumpets sound to conclude the episode on a somber note. Shakespeare's Henry V works well as either a patriotic pseudo-history of an emerging King or as a complex character study of a Machiavellian ruler, but Hayes' ineffectual battle scenes severely minimize the dramatic impact of Henry's military victory, and his careful editing in both Signs of War and The Band of Brothers reduce the complexity of Thomas Hardy's boyish King by limiting the more bloodthirsty aspects of the battlefield leader.