The po-faced king of a monochrome world
Warmth and exuberance are in short supply in The King – a new Netflix drama charting the blood-spattered rise to power of Henry V – writes LAUREN JOHNSON
Two armies clash on a medieval battlefield. One of the combatants sustains a wound. He squirms slowly from the melee, but before reaching safety, is casually dispatched by a gore-smeared knight. It’s the grimmest of fates. However, within the context of the new David Michôd-directed film The King, it’s hardly unexpected. This is a story of death, random violence and relentless greyness alleviated only by the occasional splatter of blood. The King – now streaming on Netflix – relates the rise of Henry V (Timothée Chalamet) in the first two decades of the 15th century. We open on ‘Hal’ as a disaffected and dissolute prince in c1400, then follow his reluctant accession, French campaigns, surprise victory at the battle of Agincourt and eventual peace with France, cemented by his marriage to French princess Catherine of Valois in 1420. Not coincidentally, this is the same period Shakespeare explored in his Henriad (Henry IV Parts I and II, and Henry V). We find the wayward Hal puking in the streets outside Mistress Quickly’s inn and self-indulgently griping about his father, King Henry IV, to salt-ofthe-earth northerner John Falstaff. In other words, this is not history. It’s Shakespeare Redux.
The bloated, jocular Falstaff is one of Shakespeare’s best-loved characters, but he is entirely fictional. His name echoes Henry V’s contemporary, Sir John Fastolf, a successful soldier of the Hundred Years’ War who fled Joan of Arc’s forces at Patay in 1429 and thus gained an unearned reputation for cowardice. Here, he serves as Henry’s youthful mentor and (rather surprisingly) military tactician, one of the king’s last trusted allies.
Political operators
A theme of The King is how monarchs have no friends, “only followers and foes”. Sure enough, Henry’s advisers vie for control by manipulating him. In fact, the only disinterested advice Hal receives
It is hard to square Hal’s pacifism with the Henry V who did not baulk at starving innocents to death or massacring PoWs"
comes from the women in his life: his sister Philippa and his wife (though both make all-too-brief cameos). This reflects a wider truth: noblewomen were political operators, too, and their counsel was valued by their families. During the Hundred Years’ War, queens had vital roles as intercessors and regents, negotiating between their warring relatives – and for their own material advantage.
That Hal listens to these women is, unfortunately, misleading. The historical Henry V accorded his wife little political influence, even denying her an official position during the infancy of their son. He was the sort of king who locked up his own stepmother on charges of witchcraft to get his hands on her estates, not one who invited honest advice from his female relatives.
The King’s greatest departure from history, however, is Hal’s pacifism – he sanctimoniously condemns his father’s warmongering and only invades France after enduring assassination attempts. It is hard to square this with the historical Henry V, who was on campaign in Ireland at 12 and first fought in battle at 16. Henry V was a soldier before all else, and a pitiless one. He did not baulk at starving innocents to death during the siege of Rouen, nor massacring prisoners of war at Agincourt.
The 15th century was undoubtedly brutal and miserable, but The King pointedly sidesteps the splendour and beauty of a royal court, and the barded pomp of an army attempting to overawe its enemy. This dour, monochrome world verges occasionally on dull, bursting only into unexpected technicolour when Robert Pattinson’s ‘Dauphin’ lurches onto screen, gleefully pronouncing deranged threats in his execrable French accent. His lewd arch-villainy is worth the price of admission alone, although it feels like he wandered onto set from a completely different film; one rather less po-faced and perhaps more engaging.
After all, this is the tale of the destruction of chivalry and maturing of “one of England’s great kings” (as Henry’s advisor puts it). Shakespeare knew that it’s a story worth telling in bold colours. Lauren Johnson is the author of Shadow King: The Life and Death of Henry VI (Head of Zeus, 2019)
The King
Currently streaming on Netflix