This post originally appeared in The Shakespeare Standard
On April 15-19, Texas Woman’s University in Denton, Texas ran performances of William Shakespeare’s Henry V, directed by Assistant Professor of Drama Steve Young. The cast consisted of TWU Drama majors, as well as Drama graduate students, alums, non-majors at TWU, and students from other colleges such as University of North Texas. While this varied casting practice is uncommon among most drama departments, TWU’s Redbud Theater Complex frequently opens its doors to auditions from members of Denton’s larger community. The element that made the biggest buzz in this production wasn’t the variety of the company, but Young’s surprising choice to cast Britnee Schoville, a (female) freshman in the Drama department, as King Henry V. I have to say that the Salic Law speech (performed by Shakespeare Dallas actor and director Michael Johnson) took on new meanings — particularly the lines disputing that “No woman shall succeed in Salic land” (1.2. 39). Schoville wasn’t the only female student playing a male role, either. More than half the cast of male characters, including soldiers, courtiers, thieves, and spies, were played by women. Rhonda Gorman’s vivid costuming embraced (literally and figuratively) these actresses and provided clear distinctions between classes and countries that remained consistent throughout the production. Clarity is an important element when offering one of Shakespeare’s history plays to undergraduate audiences.
Unfortunately, the clarity suffered in the student actors’ performance of Shakespeare’s language. Verse passages were indistinguishable from prose, and while Schoville’s performance was vivacious and entrancing, she and other actors frequently failed to use the language to inform tactics and character. Most of the cast attempted a dialect, English or French, at some point in time, though none of them followed through on said attempt throughout the production. I will say that language-wise, the French scene was one of my favorite scenes in the play. A male “Prince Karlin” (played by Seth Jones) instead of a female Princess Kathryn asked for an English lesson from his nurse and quizzed himself with a warlike air using a plastroned fencing dummy to point out body parts.
While Jones’ haughty demeanor brought new sparkle and verve to the comedic French scene, it failed to serve him well when Schoville’s Henry wooed Jones’ “Karlin” in the final act of the play. I have no inherent problem with Young’s choice to reverse the genders of Henry and his bride. I was hopeful that the choice would prove to enlighten and enrich an already bright and treasured text in my esteem. However, the original scene is about a reversed power dynamic: Henry, a soldier-king, strong and sure, champion of his cause and conqueror of France, places all of his hopes at the feet of a young woman whose lowly position as a second child and daughter in her royal family does not even require her to communicate with dignitaries in fluent English, as her parents and her brother the dauphin do. In Young’s production, Jones towered over Schoville — his height, demeanor, and sex all preferring him to the status that a female Henry had to fight the entire play to achieve even a part of. Schoville’s Henry embodied that fight throughout the production, which brought a brilliant new flavor to Hal’s plight in learning leadership the hard way. However, the scene in question did not read as Henry humbling himself to woo Kate, but as a starry-eyed schoolgirl chasing a disinterested jock, passionately, obsessively, and in vain. The reversal in which Karlin accepted Henry made no sense whatsoever. I do not fault Schoville — she committed fully to the scene and made a valiant attempt, in spite of the decidedly uneven and awkward dynamic.
Not all of Young’s unorthodox choices were a disservice to the production. There are several events which Shakespeare’s text places offstage — a messenger or other character merely relates or insinuates the events to the audience as or after they occur. But Young’s production put many of these events onstage, including the death of the Boy, the English soldiers’ killing of their French prisoners, a child Henry VI in the epilogue, and, most strikingly, the hanging of Bardolph. A harness rig allowed the characters to execute Bardolph’s sentence immediately, before Henry even has a chance to hear of it. The specter of a hanged friend looms over the rest of the scene, and only when the curtains closed for intermission was the audience relieved of the grisly sight. More than any other choice, this striking image set the tone of Henry’s reign — one in which might and right strive against each other, and the question is only settled with blood.
On April 15-19, Texas Woman’s University in Denton, Texas ran performances of William Shakespeare’s Henry V, directed by Assistant Professor of Drama Steve Young. The cast consisted of TWU Drama majors, as well as Drama graduate students, alums, non-majors at TWU, and students from other colleges such as University of North Texas. While this varied casting practice is uncommon among most drama departments, TWU’s Redbud Theater Complex frequently opens its doors to auditions from members of Denton’s larger community. The element that made the biggest buzz in this production wasn’t the variety of the company, but Young’s surprising choice to cast Britnee Schoville, a (female) freshman in the Drama department, as King Henry V. I have to say that the Salic Law speech (performed by Shakespeare Dallas actor and director Michael Johnson) took on new meanings — particularly the lines disputing that “No woman shall succeed in Salic land” (1.2. 39). Schoville wasn’t the only female student playing a male role, either. More than half the cast of male characters, including soldiers, courtiers, thieves, and spies, were played by women. Rhonda Gorman’s vivid costuming embraced (literally and figuratively) these actresses and provided clear distinctions between classes and countries that remained consistent throughout the production. Clarity is an important element when offering one of Shakespeare’s history plays to undergraduate audiences.
Unfortunately, the clarity suffered in the student actors’ performance of Shakespeare’s language. Verse passages were indistinguishable from prose, and while Schoville’s performance was vivacious and entrancing, she and other actors frequently failed to use the language to inform tactics and character. Most of the cast attempted a dialect, English or French, at some point in time, though none of them followed through on said attempt throughout the production. I will say that language-wise, the French scene was one of my favorite scenes in the play. A male “Prince Karlin” (played by Seth Jones) instead of a female Princess Kathryn asked for an English lesson from his nurse and quizzed himself with a warlike air using a plastroned fencing dummy to point out body parts.
While Jones’ haughty demeanor brought new sparkle and verve to the comedic French scene, it failed to serve him well when Schoville’s Henry wooed Jones’ “Karlin” in the final act of the play. I have no inherent problem with Young’s choice to reverse the genders of Henry and his bride. I was hopeful that the choice would prove to enlighten and enrich an already bright and treasured text in my esteem. However, the original scene is about a reversed power dynamic: Henry, a soldier-king, strong and sure, champion of his cause and conqueror of France, places all of his hopes at the feet of a young woman whose lowly position as a second child and daughter in her royal family does not even require her to communicate with dignitaries in fluent English, as her parents and her brother the dauphin do. In Young’s production, Jones towered over Schoville — his height, demeanor, and sex all preferring him to the status that a female Henry had to fight the entire play to achieve even a part of. Schoville’s Henry embodied that fight throughout the production, which brought a brilliant new flavor to Hal’s plight in learning leadership the hard way. However, the scene in question did not read as Henry humbling himself to woo Kate, but as a starry-eyed schoolgirl chasing a disinterested jock, passionately, obsessively, and in vain. The reversal in which Karlin accepted Henry made no sense whatsoever. I do not fault Schoville — she committed fully to the scene and made a valiant attempt, in spite of the decidedly uneven and awkward dynamic.
Not all of Young’s unorthodox choices were a disservice to the production. There are several events which Shakespeare’s text places offstage — a messenger or other character merely relates or insinuates the events to the audience as or after they occur. But Young’s production put many of these events onstage, including the death of the Boy, the English soldiers’ killing of their French prisoners, a child Henry VI in the epilogue, and, most strikingly, the hanging of Bardolph. A harness rig allowed the characters to execute Bardolph’s sentence immediately, before Henry even has a chance to hear of it. The specter of a hanged friend looms over the rest of the scene, and only when the curtains closed for intermission was the audience relieved of the grisly sight. More than any other choice, this striking image set the tone of Henry’s reign — one in which might and right strive against each other, and the question is only settled with blood.
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