Appaloosa (2008)

Appaloosa A Quiet, Character Western

by Kristin Battestella

Co-writer, director, and producer Ed Harris (Pollock) also stars in the 2008 western Appaloosa. Based on the Robert B. Parker (Spencer for Hire) novel, this quiet character piece invokes a nostalgic, sophisticated atmosphere with period detail and fine performances.

It's the New Mexico Territory, 1882 and the town of Appaloosa calls in peacekeeper Virgil Cole (Harris) and his deputy Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen) to bring in murderous, power hungry rancher Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons). Cole's reputation for the law proceeds him, however neither he nor his deputy know how to handle the affections of widow Allie French (Renee Zellweger) – much less interference of hired gun Ring Shelton (Lance Henriksen) amid train raids, corrupt trials, Chiricahua standoffs, and betrayed alliances.

Quick shootouts are the real law here, immediately setting the reckless tense as the narration tells of bitter soldiers post War between the States choosing sides in The West. Viewers must pay attention to the dialogue, for information happens fast amid the sophisticated conversations and legalese agreements. Despite rugged airs as enemies sit down at opposite sides of the table to share a whiskey, there's a civilized code of honor to the violence – chit chat on the law versus the outlaw as two sides of the same coin. Dual layers, rivalries, and subtle jealousy keep this character piece classy rather than embellishing the drama with try hard cool. However, Appaloosa gives our gents enough cowboy fun even if the buddy moments, verbal spars, and chuckles have a certain gravitas. Tender scenes between the fisticuffs don't hit the audience over the head with scandal, and good or bad, everybody wears black hats. The raids at dawn, jailbreak vigils, circuit judge, and sheriff escorts are common to the genre – Appaloosa feels similar to a lot of John Wayne or Richard Widmark pictures – but this isn't a knock off or spoof playing into the western winks. Appaloosa is also not a slow piece, however the film making itself may be pleasingly perceived as quiet. Players converse in reasonable length scenes, polite two-shots let the cast be, and no noticeable editing intrudes on the debate. Where today's movies often over rely on physical action replacing plot progression, here conflict happens with introspective character movement rather than crescendos. Dangerous bridges, abductions, and nail-biting negotiations are done in camera without zooms or bombastic antics. Personal and professional love triangles collide via the symbolic framework of an unfinished house, and horseback pursuits ride on alongside standoffs and treachery as enemies must work together before the final shootout.

Gruff in his beard Viggo Mortensen's (Eastern Promises) Everett Hitch may have quit his West Point commission but he's still never without his eight gauge shotgun. He may follow Virgil Cole, finish the shootout, pull him off in a fight, or back him up whichever hot or cold is required, yet the lawmen seem more like an equal pair rather than marshal in charge and obeying deputy. Townsfolk prefer discussing their predicament with the more amicable Hitch, and he's silently barters with a Chiricahua raiding party. Despite any bust ups on the case, he apologizes for Virgil's sandpaper ways because he gets the job done. Hitch refuses to debate whether he's a better gunslinger since Virgil is the undisputed best, but Cole says it's Hitch's emotions that keep him from the top. What will it take for him to step out of Virgil's shadow?Audiences today aren't used to seeing men talk about their sensitivity onscreen, but lawmen catching feelings can only lead to trouble and the emotion is a dynamic change of pace. Although Hitch chooses to be second fiddle, several critical scenes are from his point of view, and his larger than life shotgun posturing is often the center of the frame – visually, he is the true star of Appaloosa in the unspoken spirit of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Of course, black hat suave Ed Harris as Virgil Cole insists town leaders sign his way into law and warns victims he is a fast draw but will pistol whip a cowboy to get answers. Virgil's a cold killer but doesn't like a lady teasing him about being socially awkward. He's not well spoken and has a poor vocabulary but educates himself. While Cole is not without compassion, apologizes when warranted, and insists on being straight with Hitch; he's unaccustomed to the personal interfering with the professional, refusing to think about anything else until their quarry's caught. Can Cole give up his stubborn marshaling and idly retire in Appaloosa? Though not intended as homosexual, there is a deep, comforting trust between these characters – an inseparable bat man relationship with humor and caring a woman can't understand. Unfortunately, Virgil's blind to any jealously and needs Hitch's aide thanks to the hitherto unknown domestic.

Renee Zellweger (Chicago) as piano playing widow Allie French, however, has the men looking twice as she talks sassy and makes Cole blush. She wants to be with him but dislikes how his work will always be first. Allie doesn't want to be a part of his profession – especially when her life is at risk – and thus turns her flirtations toward the equally besotted Hitch. She's wise to the two men competing even if they don't seem to really know women at all. Hitch insists they are both “with Virgil” and not “with each other,” unaware of the deliberate game she is playing. Allie is not a foolish lady and does what she has to do. A woman in this era must stick with the nearest man to survive, and the higher the man, the better. Such pretty is going to be problematic, and Allie resents how a woman can't be the real boss outside of playing house. Although the character is meant to be wishy washy, the portrayal is too uneven and falls flat amid the stronger leads. Allie comes between the men because the plot says so, not because she is really going toe to toe with them in a shrewd, feminine game of chess. Despite unanswered questions about her, the character is unlikable rather than mysterious and there's no reason to care about her mixed motivations. The name Bragg, however, fits Jeremy Irons' (High Rise) power hungry rancher. He contests the lawmen at every turn, teasing Virgil about reading Emerson while gloating about their at odds social standing and his friends in high places. The one on ones are great when we get them, but Bragg needed a little more to do than bookend the piece with his crimes and swindles. There's no real reason why he goes from rancher to sheriff killer – refusing to surrender his rapist work hands doesn't create villainous dimension. There's more to his and the town story in the deleted scenes and behind the scenes discussions on the Appaloosa blu-ray set, but in a western, the bad guy just has to be the bad guy, so any added class from Irons is a bonus. Likewise, there should have been more to gun for hire Lance Henriksen (Near Dark). He's willing to fight at the Chiricahua raid or hold up a train – but the price influences which side he defends.

Ranch emblems, wooden buildings, and traditional western front architecture establish Appaloosa's Old West atmosphere along with numerous gun belts and cowboy hats. Desert vistas and mountainous scenery make those on horseback tiny on the dusty frontier while contrasting Victorian décor, wallpaper, oil lamps, and tea sets keep the interiors civilized. Carriages, outhouses, and saloon doors complete the expected western style yet Appaloosa remains colorful and bright without the commonly associated fifties pink or mid-century garish design. The muted look and old fashioned patina, however, is not so modern bleak, dark, and grainy that viewers can't see the nighttime action. The gunshots are also not outrageously loud, preferring a more natural pop and the resounding thud when a man drops. It's a surprising natural choice that makes the gun violence more ruthless, for these shootouts aren't rad cool action scenes but a fast draw where the killer doesn't bat an eye. Precious little language, nudity, brief horse injuries, and blood likewise refuse to bow to sensationalism. Instead Appaloosa has an amazing attention to detail with vintage costuming and period trains. Choice music is only used for otherwise quiet scenes and riding transitions, adding to the lawless beauty with guitar strings and Spanish motifs. Appaloosa is impressive for its mere twenty million dollar budget, again questioning why such mid-sized pictures have fallen out of Hollywood favor.

While underwhelming to some who think nothing but too much talking is happening, Appaloosa has an audience in fans of the cast and viewers seeking quality westerns. Granted, the plot could have been more well rounded between the law and the villains. This won't be a gritty two hours as some expect nor have enough lighthearted moments for others. Appaloosa is more about the character relationships and takes several viewings to pick up all the subtle dynamics. The straightforward story of buddy marshals versus bad guys and a woman coming between them provides enough layered nuances. Compared to the recent The Magnificent Seven remake that has all the extra bells and whistles yet felt lacking, Appaloosa has personality, quirks, and man versus man, man versus nature, and man versus himself conflict that better states the unspoken man's man without all the in your face. There are sequels to the source novel – today this would be a television series for sure – but I'd love to see this stock company continue doing more western character pieces. Appaloosa has a charming cast, location, and style with both western motifs of old as well as maturity and a modern sophistication worth a look.

A Tudor Potluck

A Tudor Potluck

by Kristin Battestella

These miniseries, movies, and documentaries both modern and classic shine the light on Good Queen Bess and company – juicy details, scandals, beheadings, and all.

Elizabeth I – Helen Mirren (The Tempest), Jeremy Irons (High Rise), Toby Jones (Berberian Sound Studio), and Hugh Dancy (Hannibal) star in this acclaimed 2005 two-part HBO co-production. It's 1579 and the unmarried Bess is still without an heir despite the vulnerability of succession, religious strife, and courtiers disliking the overly familiar Earl of Leicester. A symbolic dressing down removes the bejeweled gowns and gilded facade in favor of stays and medical exams saying she's still capable of bearing children – because marriage is for heirs only according to her chancellors. Affectionate bedside chats let the viewer in with the woman behind the throne as she remains outwardly bemused and unfettered by the marital talk but inwardly bored with her council questioning when she is allowed to think or feel anything for herself. Chamberlains are aware of the coming and goings between the bedroom back stairs, and the men look the right mature with swords, capes, and plumes. Despite assassination attempts, dungeons, the rack, and slightly small sets; the golds, rich reds, detailed woodwork, candles, lovely window light, and bright courtyards create an intimate warmth. The camera flows with the movements from room to room – crossing the fine line between private woman and public chambers. Jealous Bess can't marry the earl she wants, courtiers go behind her back, and there are few people to trust amid awkward French courtships, boat rides, and disguises. Of course certain elements are familiar to the well versed Tudor audience, yet the made under Mirren shines with Elizabeth's impressive personality, dancing charm, and lovable infectiousness. It's ironic, however, that everyone says she is so beautiful in obvious flattery, and The Queen is rightfully annoyed when one and all push against her happiness – doubling her heartbreak after falling through proposals. Leicester thinks too highly of his position, yet she will not suffer fools no matter how disappointed. Elizabeth chops off the hand of a writer for his protesting pamphlet, and her chancellors prefer that made of stone rule who does what they tell her, caring not whether she wants a child or to be loved. Surprise meetings with Mary of Scots provide great woman to woman conversation, for only these two ladies can completely understand such an impasse before Dutch aide, conspiracy letters, and executions. After all, women can't be the gentle sex because they know more cruelty. Brutal flayings, quartering alive, and Latin prayers create intensity, however this drama relies less on the lavishness of other melodramatic productions and more on the politics of words and intrigue in the interplay. The first hour alone is dense, award worthy television taking the crown deeper with humility, personal frank, and religious war often spoken in same breath. There's a delicate balance between letting privy men influence her and showing them who's anointed queen. Bess honors the army for their love and sacrifice rather than courage as a king would, but she rises to the armada occasion with famous speeches as the off camera battle sharpens the personal poignant. By 1589, Elizabeth has a slightly pathetic crush on the Earl of Essex, and her elder pure white make up contrasts the womanly undressing that started Part 1. Mirrors are banished and jousts are more about courtiers and spectators whispering on who's in The Queen's favor. Bess watches the men spar, dresses a leg wound, and has some symbolic ankle saucy – she knows its foolish to be desired when she can't show her love. The Queen won't stay in the bedroom but goes to her council where she can whip the men into shape with her leadership. She's not afraid to lash out and show her anger but does threaten the witnesses to her outrage with death. Can one enjoy her royal company or is it all using each other for more influence? Rumors of poison, finger pointing accusations, and false evidence help the not so suave Essex move above his station. New love triangles, deaths, and secret meetings with James VI accelerate Irish discord, divided opinions, and would be rebellions – but it's nothing an arrest or graphic beheading can't fix. While this series doesn't feature all her favorites or serve as a total later reign biography, the focus on such two related loves shows how Bess may have bent from time to time but never totally yields. The Queen goes from romantic tears to Royal We, placing public devotion over self with surreal color and camerawork combining for a graceful denouement.

Henry VII: The Winter King – Author Thomas Penn hosts this 2013 documentary hour chronicling the somewhat obscure – compared to the Richard III infamy before and head rolling Henry VIII after – but no less ruthless, paranoid, dark, and oppressive reign of Henry VII. From the 1485 Millford Haven landing to gaining support for an unlikely victory at Bosworth Field, onscreen text dates and places the previous Wars of the Roses with the Earl of Richmond's precarious claim to the throne through illegitimate Beauforts and a strategic marriage to Elizabeth of York. On location Bosworth prayers, Westminster Abbey art, Hampton Court comparisons, and Parliament archives detail the coronation and dynastic struggles through medieval scrolls, period paintings, music texts, and genealogical rolls. Henry feared he'd loose the crown the way he got it, but shrewd legislation and assuring his lineage help quell any rebellions and eliminate rivals to the throne. Visits to the Medieval Coin Collection at the British Museum present vintage gold pieces stamped with the Tudor rose – despite extensive architecture projects and increasing wealth, Henry used spies to root out corrupt chamberlains and previous allies bankrolling York revivals. The king himself was vigilant with his own financial books and privy accounts, and surviving documents reveal standard payments for falcons from Hungary as well as rewards from some undercover espionage. By the turn of the century, there was little resistance to his tight, underhanded grip thanks to new engagements with Spain, however fatal family illnesses and Elizabeth's death in childbirth cause the distrustful Henry to retreat before cracking down with more building splendor, ruling with fear rather than love thanks to extortion fines and financial ruin making it too costly for anyone to usurp him. Henry's controversial Council Learned in the Law covertly circumvents any legalese with prison sentences, rigged juries, and intimated judges, but threats from Suffolk and dangerous jousts take a toll on his health. Period depictions show Henry VII's deathbed transition – which was kept secret for two days while courtiers cleaned up the regime's loose ends with trumped up executions of unlikable chancellors, allowing young seventeen year old Henry VIII to issue kinder reform. Henry VII's reign was a rocky but necessary road assuring a new English dynasty; his architectural achievements still stand, and this tour fittingly concludes at his grand mausoleum silently beside his tomb. Although the booming music and night time scenery plays at something sinister, the moody here remains scholarly before flashy, keeping this friendly for the classroom or the more learned Tudor audience.

A Stuart Bonus!

Mary Queen of Scots: The Red Queen – Scottish castles, ruinous abbeys, and highland scenery anchor this 2014 documentary on that other devout catholic Mary thorn in protestant Elizabeth's side. The narration admits the similar names are confusing, but the voiceover meanders with unnecessary time on Mary's parents James V and his french wife Mary of Guise amid Henry VIII marital turmoil, perilous successions, and religious switches. Opera arias interfere further as we stray into Mary Mary quite contrary rhymes, earlier Robert the Bruce connections, Tudor rivalries, French alliances, and the possible poisoning of infant Stuart sons before finally getting to Mary being crowned at nine months old in defiance of male inheritance laws. Rough Wooing tensions and early betrothal plans with Edward VI lead to isolation at Stirling Castle before a pleasant childhood at the French court, but a princess education and marriage to the Dauphin in 1558 ultimately send the young widow back to Scotland as regent in 1561. Catholic unrest always leaves Mary on unfriendly terms with Bess alongside John Knox reformations at home, misogynist rhetoric, and a nasty marriage to her first cousin Henry Stuart. The need for an heir, murdered lovers, adulterous pregnancies, revenge – loyal nobles take sides as the Catholic baptism of the future James VI divides public opinion. Men with syphilis, suspicious gunpowder accidents, marital traps, and final meetings with her year old son begat possible kidnappings, a new marriage to the Earl of Bothwell, revolts, imprisonment at Loch Leven, abdication, and rumors of stillborn twins with unknown fathers. It might have been interesting to see scholars contrasting bad girl Mary with her marriages and male interference versus Elizabeth The Virgin Queen rather than the all over the place narrative. Bess holds Mary captive in various English castles for eighteen years until religious coups, forged letters, an absentee trial, and the final treasonous Babington Plot. Mary goes out in style with symbolic red despite her botched beheading, with an ironic final resting place at Westminster Abbey beside Mary Tudor and Elizabeth I. This rambling hour confuses itself and repeats anecdotes in what should have been a tighter, more informative focus. However, such superficial storyteller basics can actually be a good classroom compliment with additional materials.

But A Surprising Skip

Young Bess – Charles Laughton (reprising his role from The Private life of Henry VIII), Deborah Kerr (From Here to Eternity), and Stewart Granger (Caesar and Cleopatra) join the eponymous Jean Simmons (Guys and Dolls) for this romanticized 1953 tale featuring pomp scoring, medieval title cards, fine castle interiors, Tudor hoods, colorful frocks, royal feasts, and bitter beheadings. Unfortunately, annoying, over the top support recounts the already familiar Anne Boleyn exit and repeated new wife introductions in an out of place Mother Goose style narration. The bemusing, petulant little girl whimsy is at odds with the serious chopping block drama, and the defiant teen Bess rolls over once Thomas Seymour sweeps in to subdue her. Now, not only was the older Granger married to the supple Simmons, but he also had an affair with Kerr – who plays his wife onscreen. History would also describe Thomas Seymour's relationship with the young Elizabeth as not exactly healthy to say the least, and it's uncomfortably odd to see such a great, shrewd queen reduced to a stubborn, moon-eyed princess. Can you imagine the uproar today if a historic abusive relationship was depicted as a romance orchestrated by the victim? o_O Bess makes her stepfather jealous of her Danish marriage proposals by kissing Barnaby the whipping boy before getting slapped by her Admiral Uncle Dad Tom, which she loves! Soft glow cameras on the ladies are likewise so fuzzy that the picture looks blurry to HD accustomed eyes. The sets are small, outdoor scenes and matte shots are obvious fakery, brief naval scenes and hokey armor are almost humorous, and the villainous Lord Protector is apparent thanks to his greasy mustache. Henry's larger than life whims and death bed sincere make up for the slow start and the bright, colorful dance scene is the best part of the film – yet for something supposedly about Bess, the focus strays with arguing councilors and ambitious relations. An entire segment is narrated by the typically mid century little brother King Edward, transitioning from his intended as humorous wish that his uncle would “D-Y-E” to inquests and solemn betrayals. Meandering character motivations add to the inaccuracies, the behind the scenes relationships muddle with what's onscreen, and the of its time artistic license feels embarrassing to the well versed Tudor viewer. Simmons gives a lovely performance, and audiences who love classic melodrama can enjoy this. However, it's tough to suspense belief with this kind of blind fiction.

A Shakespeare Trio, The Fifth!

A Shakespeare Trio, The Fifth!

by Kristin Battestella

Spring is upon Stratford-upon-Avon, so it's time for another trio of tragedy, shrews, and Shakespearean documentary. Huzzah!

King Lear - Ian McKellan (Richard III), Romola Garai (Angel), Sylvester McCoy (Doctor Who), and Frances Barber (Silk) anchor this 2008 two and half hour PBS television presentation based on the cast's previous stage performance also directed by Trevor Nunn. Although such small scale stage design and up close cameras may seem congested at times, other frames are well done with a deceitful daughter in the foreground looking over her shoulder at the angry father questioning which child will prove her love and earn her inheritance. Colorful gowns, regal red robes, and strategic lighting invoke a fifteenth century abstract meets anachronistic Cossack look while frenetic organ music parallels the titular senility. Our seated king is an indulged old man, fickle, and vain. He's pushing for more flattery but exiles his favorite over a blunt opinion when such honesty doesn't glorify him. Rival duchies toe their positions while everyone wants a piece of the king's power but not his affection, and several soliloquies almost break the fourth wall as viewers understand the illegitimate son looking for an angle. Between brotherly coups and dukes in disguise, our regal dad bounces from daughter to daughter – neither want him there and we understand that, too. Lear has no one to blame but himself as he descends from the gilded seat to dark brawls and jester humor, snapping and shouting amid angry gesturing and out of control tears. This ornery old man is surrounded, not with feigned love and regal safety but a rainy wilderness of fools and madmen. In such squalor, one might even suspect he is imagining his jester on the moor as his spiral spreads to the aristocracy with hangings, eyes gouged, and armies approaching. The barren outdoors stir an overcast purgatory for this near biblical reform as blind fathers meet lost sons and the women's costumes likewise darken to match their jealousy and power through their weak or lusty men. The older dog may learn the error of his ways, but there is a higher cost for such late education. Where Lear once reigned from a bright court on high, now the bleak swords and battle planning happen within the hedge hogs. Is it better to be crazy and blissfully unaware or do you realize your humility too late and pay the terrible price? This turmoil could have been prevented, and as much as we feel the family emotion, the tearful reunions and brief moments of clarity only lead to more poisons, duels, suicide, and executions. Without subtitles or name tags for all the dukedoms, the intrigue may be confusing if you don't know who is who. Time away from the eponymous circumspection lags a little and this is too long for a younger classroom. However, this play isn't meant to be Bard for the youthful audience either. One has to be in the mood for such depressing, but this is a well played take on the enduring tragedy.

The Taming of the Shrew – After the bitterness of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? for their fifth collaboration producers Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton starred in this 1967 feature comedy debut from Franco Zeffirelli. Pleasant countrysides, rainbows, sing songs, carnivals, and cobblestone set the bemusing scene while big plumes, jumbo sleeves, and velvet galore invoke a colorful sixties meets medieval jovial. Some of the crowd scenes are, well, crowded, but the wide camera captures both the stage action and all the movement within alongside creative up close angles. We know that's Liz's violet eye spying through the shutter before we even meet her! The viewer is smitten by her huffing, puffing, and wild hair amid laugh out loud rough and tumble chases, Kate sitting on a trap door to prevent Petruchio from entering, and his swinging across the loft a la Tarzan to reach her. Beautiful and talented as she is, however, Taylor doesn't quite have that effortlessly iambic Bard rhythm. She plays her dialogue seriously against gruff Dick's larger than life wink but that contrast does match the shrewish behavior. The leads may be a little old for these roles, too, but the battle of the sexes ruses and boys will be boys disguises aren't meant to be taken at face value. Subtitles are still a must, yet the trimmed dialogue is less about the younger daughter with multiple beaus and more about getting the bawdy done with her older eponymous sister. Framing elements and side characters are excised for these two hours, emphasizing this wooing with peacock feathers on full display. Despite a very misogynist subject with men making all the plans and never considering the women's input, part of the charm here is in seeing a strong woman like Kate clap back at such brash male thinking when Petruchio takes her over his knee. This lady peering through the window pane is well aware of the fronting – Kate's having none of it, he likes it that way, and our leads' off screen turbulence adds to the je ne sais quoi. Why must the woman who can take ownership of herself cower so the man can claim her? Does he test her spirit so she'll keep him on his toes? This couple balks at courtship while celebrating why love is worth it, and it's interesting to pro/con or compare and contrast the then versus now innocence, rowdy, and acrimonious here, with Woolf prior, and Zeffirelli's subsequent Romeo & Juliet. Is it better when the woman won't come when called or does so but steals his thunder? Taylor's Kate becomes a refined woman that makes her husband look good, and here I'd like to think of her final speech as the orgasm restaurant scene in When Harry Met Sally. Whether the woman is tamed or pretending, the man may never know.

Shakespeare Uncovered – Season One of this 2013 six episode PBS series opens with Ethan Hawke exploring the serial killer line between man and monster in “Macbeth.” Archival Orson Welles, Sean Connery, and Patrick Stewart clips compare the Thane's capacity for violence and a king's ambition versus an actor's drive for success amid psychiatrist input, ballet interpretations, and body language cues breaking down The Bard syntax. Scholars discuss the historical sources and Scottish locations as well as witchcraft and politics in Shakespeare's time, yet the superstition and recognizable evils almost place the ruthless circumstances and self-fulfilling prophecy in modern horror terms. Joely Richardson, Vanessa Redgrave, and Helen Mirren study the more lighthearted but multi dimensional female roles of As You Like It and Twelfth Night in “The Comedies” with Old Vic tours and insights on Bill's early, ordinary life shaping his relatable characters in an era when the parts couldn't even be played by women. 1910 silent films and Alec Guinness footage accent the liberating disguises despite the problems they cause – like falling in love with the wrong person. Gender subtext and stage cross dressing present more about what's inside thanks to paired androgyny or twins lost and found. Ganymede terms and mistaken identities further push the sexual innuendo, letting the audience in on the layered gender studies of this four hundred year old play. Westminster Abbey graves, poetic verse, and prophetic warnings for leaders who believe in their own invincibility anchor “Richard II” with Derek Jacobi and Ben Whishaw comparing their own interpretations alongside Ian McKellan and John Gielgud performances. Professors study the gilded artwork reflecting Richard's divine influence amid regime changes then and now, Thatcher history, Elizabeth I coups, and de Vere authorship possibilities. Can a king separate the man from the duty and go out on his own terms? Jeremy Irons, Tom Hiddleston, and Simon Russell Beale tackle the patriotic rousing of “Henry IV and V” with Laurence Olivier highlights, The Hollow Crown behind the scenes, Shrewsbury locales, and play with in a play revelations. Shakespeare took historic license to heighten his drama – unafraid to get brutal with famous speeches, noble ambiguity, and dark consequences on fathers, sons, and the inescapable mortality we bear. David Tennant and Jude Law test that most celebrated very definition of theatre “Hamlet” by choosing a version in the video store – Mel Gibson, Kevin Kline, or Monty Python. Bad Quarto and First Folio side by sides strip down the grief, anger, and revenge, exposing an actor's personal retrospection and raw performance with the audience inside his state of mind as Hamlet famously asks what's the point of it all. Shakespeare's own ill father and dying son influenced this writing of ghostly specters versus imaginative excuses and righting wrongs at the expense of the son, however later Freudian interpretations add to the poisons and maternal taboos. Episode Six “The Temptest” has directors Trevor Nunn and Julie Taymor end discussing the ambitious fantasy of Will's last complete play and whether or not he himself played Prospero in this semi autobiographical text with experimental stage directions, Bermuda shipwreck inspirations, and colonialism suggestions. Early candlelit presentations, Christopher Plummer footage, and today's inventive storm on stage effects recount the stranded father cum unforgiving alchemist unable to keep his daughter away from new princely influences. Was art imitating life for The Bard? The more he tries, the more Prospero looses control as his beastly servants deliver beautiful speeches on good versus evil duplicity and nature versus nurture choices. Lofty soliloquies ponder the celestial and life itself using puns on the globe – both theatre and world must face that inevitable final frailty. Although thoroughly British with a certain pretentious formality at times, more often than not this personal per hour remains educational with densely packed information and analysis to pick and choose a discussion.

High-Rise

High-Rise is an Interesting Social Commentary

by Kristin Battestella

I didn't intend on writing many spoilers, but director Ben Wheatley and writer Amy Jump's (A Field in England) 2015 feature adaption of J.G. Ballard's High-Rise is an intriguing social commentary with heaps of characters and then versus now parallels ripe for analysis and study.

Dr. Robert Laing (Tom Hiddleston) moves into a prestige new high-rise designed by visionary architect Anthony Royal (Jeremy Irons) – who lives in the penthouse with his detached society wife Ann (Keeley Hawes). Laing befriends the lower living and debt ridden Richard Wilder (Luke Evans) and his pregnant wife Helen (Elizabeth Moss), as well as his upstairs neighbor Charlotte Melville (Sienna Miller) and her young son Toby (Louis Suc). Unfortunately, technological problems within the building escalate the high and low resentments, causing the floors to divide against each other in a social competition for food, necessities, and excess. The residents must fight to survive as the chaos explodes into full blown violence, escapism, and anarchy.

An Unusual framework 

 

Ironic classical music anchors High-Rise's routine morning rush and good-natured competition on the rowing machines. Most people don't care what happens on the floors above or below them, and it's easy to mind your own business, equally ignoring the small problems such as petty theft and blocked trash chutes or more serious hidden problems like abused children. Laing's introductions provide early exposition and layered subtext, and almost every name etymology or dialogue exchange has a second meaning to match the dual daytime calm and crazy tower nights. Who is the upper man in fancy cologne who stuffs the Financial Times in the mouth of the downstairs girl assaulted in the blackout? Surely, these wild parties and deadly actions are just growing pains like all the little mechanical problems. The advanced tower conveniences provide every envious need to some but not all, precipitating the destruction while bearing a concrete witness to the lust, sloth, and who knows what else happening. Petty races for the closest parking spot become no one remembering where there car is, and less and less people come or go, preferring the chaos inside as more of the building gets trashed with nastiness in the pool, wild sex, gruesome dissections, and children singing to beware the alligator. When it's great at the top there's no need to care if it's dog eat dog at the bottom – no pun intended. The uppers have never been to the grocery store and call it hunting when they don their robes or leisure suits to shop between orgies. Who can they blame below for the anarchy? The lessers must see the superior competition, and the penthouse Joneses will commandeer all the resources necessary – you know booze, canapes, cocktail onions, and cake. The downstairs, meanwhile is divided between staying pat or taking documentary action, capturing the mayhem just as today we look at the world through a rose colored lens on our smartphones. With its futuristic made retro, ambiguous newscaster, and life imitating art parallels, High-Rise retains Ballard's prophetic warnings on media and technology distorting our lives. The visionary design of the building complex – several high-rise buildings with an open palm motif – feels like a Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God warning, with the hellish herd thinned so the worthy can create a new warped normal. Once the sequestered wicked was swept under the rug, but the particular have and have not conditions of the High-Rise let the chaos fester and bloom.

Although the book begins with Laing's post-chaos calm balcony barbecue, this framework and flashback to three months before the breakdown may be a mistake for the film. A novel needs a first page hook with a promise of anarchy enticing the reader. A millennial movie, however, just needs to tell its mayhem from A to B, and the monthly skip adds confusion or a glossed over feeling – especially since there is a montage of destruction halfway through High-Rise with hectic, almost hidden flashes or suggestions viewers may miss. It may be intentional that the audience is unaware of the passage of time as the anarchy ascends. However, when the viewer must ask how long the social bedlam takes after Laing moves in or how the overdue Helen remains pregnant a month or more later, it takes the audience out of the immersive chaos. With such taboo or polarizing angst, High-Rise can't afford to have the viewer check out, and by beginning with Laing's end, the same anticipation that keeps a reader can kill a short attention span movie audience. I don't really want to see more of the violent assaults and implied scares in High-Rise, but the sex seen isn't very raunchy or somehow held back – stoic stiff upper lip rather than full throttle. At least Toby finds an ear! No one but Laing is seen shaving or growing a beard, and nobody runs out candles and cigarettes. Nitpicking contemporary viewers are often so desensitized to onscreen horridness, violence, rape, and murder that it almost seems like not enough happens in High-Rise – or, ironically, we expect social anarchy to erupt in a confined space. Yet if we find fault with High-Rise being too obvious or tame in its commentary on humanity's ugly, then what does that say about us?

Dr. R. Laing 

 

Like the past participle lain, Tom Hiddleston's buttoned up Doctor Laing is content lying low in his apartment detached from the outside world when not peeling the flesh from a skull or using tightly grip saws and mallets in his pathology work. His life is in boxes – said to contain “sex and paranoia” or “nothing” – and Laing likewise barricades himself in to avoid the destruction between rival floors. Laing has a bent little cigarette when he's insulted by the men at the top, but his third person calculating self won't go along with their lobotomies upon request. He's trapped in the mirrored elevator during the blackout and seems to dislike both lifts and stairs – tools to move above or below his station when he knows his place. As seen in Crimson Peak and Only Lovers Left Alive, the subtle cracking beneath the surface mask is what Hiddleston does best, and his simmer adds dimension to the otherwise neutral Laing, who never really reveals his full hand or says what he is thinking. Laing tells Louis Suc's (The White King) “Little Professor” Toby to blend in so everyone would like him, for he was always covered in mud or failure that his father wouldn't touch, but Toby questions Laing on if he killed his family, likes being the only one left, and why he didn't punch Simmons when he had the chance. Everyone trusts Laing's quietness, and he services all the women of High-Rise in some way – usually with his sexual prowess since he looks good without his clothes. Initially, Laing is concerned with sunbathing, massages, fitness, and cleanliness with repeated showering splices. He won't go in the pool, probably because he's told the children peed in it, and ash smears on his face in the same spot that is later covered with gray paint. Laing's suave seventies style parallels the building breakdown as his bell bottoms roll up, the white shirt dirties, and the choking tie is tossed. Even his hair becomes almost gray, completing his in between, non-committal uniform appearance. Laing blends in as a utilitarian part of the increasingly dirty tower, and his gray walls match the sky outside as the inside and out become one. Laing sponges his clothes in the shower and won't take them off for Helen, saying for the first time he is happy as a kept object with his new unusual family. He's where he belongs and intends to open a private practice to help others surrender as he has.

Wilder

As his name suggests, the performance that invests the audience most in High-Rise is Luke Evans (Dracula Untold) as the bottom floor family man Richard Wilder. He's a likable guy with a gruff seventies action man exterior. His flirting and fooling around is understandable, too – a guy's entitled to blow off a little steam! He has bills to pay, mouths to feed, and another on the way but the down documentary filmmaker with a vision isn't content as a point and shoot it cameraman. Wilder befriends everyone regardless of floor status and insists on doing justice for the children denied at the pool by an upper floors only reservation. He won't have his children humiliated, and while others try to rise by bending to the top's ways, Wilder intends to conquer them by fighting Simmons. Wilder suspects Royal uses Laing to feed upper propaganda to the lower orders, and the two become like rival sons – one cowering and one a man of action – with their pseudo sexual dance off meant to draw out Laing's wild side. Wilder isn't a bad guy but lashes out like a cornered animal fighting back against one too many snickers on high as most defending family men would do. He begins with petty pet vengeance before valiantly deciding to document the mayhem. He dares question why the police never come and insists on finding Royal as the albatross who can resolve the building's inequalities. Unfortunately, Wilder's climb through the tower's innards becomes a desperate, dirty obsession to get to the top even after his camera is lost. He embraces all manner of subterfuge to ascend the floors, threatening people with violence for information and gaining access with rapacious violations and misogynist control. He growls on a cassette recorder, caged under the glass table and lying in wait, orchestrating his rise to man of the house on a higher floor with a beaten woman serving his canned food supper. Did Wilder always have sociopathic tendencies or did this social collapse shape the warped nurture necessary to achieve his goals?High-Rise admits that a man will do what he can and get away with it once society allows the opportunity. It's uncomfortably provocative and frighteningly accurate once Wilder realizes what he has become – he is indeed the sanest man in the building because he is fully aware of who he is and what is happening, embracing the tower catalyst with no regrets.

The Lower Floors

Sienna Miller's (Layer Cake) Charlotte is described as being one of the few residents who cares – hosting parties, reviewing tenant applicants, and sitting on most of the committees despite a modest mid-tower apartment and no mention of any wealth or position beyond being Toby's mother. Charlotte knows everything about the building, admitting there is a social hierarchy already in place whether Royal likes it or not, and he refers to her as the number 374. But she is on the 26^th floor above Laing, who's room is styled as 2505? She approved Laing's “Byronic” application, so she knows his apartment isn't empty as she claims, and the intercut editing of her first party parallels Charlotte's what you don't see illusion. She leads Laing to the balcony, but we only see Toby spying and Wilder drunk under the glass table. She offers to find the tower brothel for Laing but selfishly talks about herself when they are intimate – and Royal knows about their relationship. Charlotte knows about Laing's sister, admits their sex is only about her and doesn't let him finish, and makes “Robert” agree that they must all do things they don't like. Charlotte watches with Talbot like spectators, discussing whether they should interfere with what is happening or not. The trick, you see is never letting one really know her, but the ambitious Wilder figures out her charlatan game. How does her apartment stay okay and supplied with her and Toby unharmed? The women in High-Rise are all somewhat stereotypical slut, mother, or shrew roles, yet each are both used at those stations and rise above them with consequences along the way.

At first Elizabeth Moss' (Mad Men) environmentalist mother Helen does anything to protect her children despite being tired of her family's bleak situation. She has a plant and one small window, but looks the other way for her husband by saying he's lost his documentary focus. She takes Laing under her wing and has a prophetic interested in recycling, but keeps her children home from school so she won't be unhappy and lonely. She loves her husband but doesn't trust Wilder, and Helen insists everything would be better if they could move to a sunny, higher floor. She barters her children's safety with her wedding ring before going upward. Helen finds solace with Laing before her motherhood gains her access to the top – both as a shunned maid and a revered sign of building renewal with her full moon delivery. Enzo Cilenti (Game of Thrones) as the psychiatrist Talbot isn't a parent, but tosses ice cream scoops over the tower's edge to explain gravity to the kids. He thinks the fascists above don't realize the building isn't as homogeneous as they think – especially when you deny people their basic necessities. Talbot says Laing is obviously hiding in plain sight, but people don't choose when they cross the line, it just silently happens. He documents with Wilder but is caught in the grocery, bound, gagged, and left in the uppers trash amid British versus French parallels and xenophobic insults. Reece Shearsmith's (The League of Gentlemen) orthodontist Steele – who does in fact, steal – is also adamant he isn't homosexual. However, he insists women would help the planet by keeping their legs crossed, and several quick moments suggest he's harming the Wilders' daughter. Steele becomes obsessed with people's trash and taking their teeth, and almost steals Helen herself since people are bartering wives for food. Fortunately, Laing says he isn't that hungry, and Steele respects his word, because, after all they are equals on the same floor.

The Architect and Co.

Royal is indeed the lord at the top – Jeremy Irons' (Reversal of Fortune) idea man who conceived and birthed the design but didn't lift a finger for the construction. Royal calls himself the tower's midwife and the architect of his own accident, vowing to see the teething building through after an on-site injury has left him limping and in constant pain with exercise his only relief. He plays squash with Laing, teasing him about Charlotte in a father and son sort of contest – the dressed in white Royal wears a towel around his neck, like a coach nursing this project of social change, but he dislikes the way people have retreated to their rooms with no escape from themselves. He descends in his mirrored elevator, finding his lost black goat in a hellish domain where he unknowingly bumps into the bloodied and red faced devil Wilder. Royal bargains with the officials knocking on the door to look the other way but hits and threatens with his cane like an angry father with a switch. He still could be the god from above brought to the streets putting man right, but Royal unfortunately succumbs to the committee at the top. He must reminds those above they are his guests and he will make the decisions, but they just roll their eyes at dad saying Laing can't be tossed off the roof because he owns him a game of squash. Royal almost comes to admire Laing's simple desire to be left alone, and over their candlelit dinner eating horse, he reiterates how he will not leave his nest. Royal realizes he didn't leave an element out of his crucible for change but let too many factors in the high-rise – a failure that has nonetheless brought about an escape to a new, twisted life.

Keeley Hawes (Mi-5) dresses out of the past as Royal's queenly wife Ann, isolated in her museum-like penthouse complete with a rooftop garden, goat, and horse. She doesn't actually ride, never gets her hands dirty, and is terrible to the maid she won't pay. Ann thinks Laing is there to fix a button for her to get what she needs, as if man has not other purpose, and she insults him in French, suspecting Royal invited Laing to her party as a silly social experiment. Ann switches to a saintly white hooded robe and isn't seen to have sex with anyone – Royal hitting her is the first time he has touched her in months, and the building is like their desperate to keep the dysfunctional marriage child growing worse alongside Helen's natural pregnancy. Ann packs to leave for her rich parents and slaps Royal when he asks if she is still enjoying her party, but Laing insults rather than indulges Sienna Guillory's (Fortitude) actress Jane Sheridan. Instead, she romps with the more dangerous Wilder during the blackout, and her pampered dog pays for it in the pool fight. Wilder tells her to “share and share alike” but she cries while looking at herself in the mirror. Jane bashes a man with red liquid in the supermarket and screams misogynist before drinking from the punch bowl in bed with her lookalike Ann. Did the building chaos bring out the actress's latent lady truths? We don't actually see her have sex with Wilder, and later Jane asks which bastard is going to have anal sex with her. Although, she may end up with the horse while the men have a symbolic but classical music sophisticated dance off instead. In a subsequent, awkward, and open to interpretation scene, Royal has sex with her as Ann stands nearby smoking and holding Jane's hand. Is this their idea of a threesome or a boring obligation for the women who prefer each other? Jane asks if anyone has made an complaint to the high-rise's owners, but Ann tells her they are the owners. She answers happily when asked where all the menfolk have gone, glad to have their brutishness out at the top, but what do the women do alone inside while the men are out killing the horse? Hmm...

Comedian Dan Renton Skinner's Simmons is Royal's strong arm henchman with sarcasm under his breath and a sense of entitlement that keeps him at the top. He wears all black to Royal's all white, putting his feet up and asking Royal who to blame for what went wrong. Despite hearing Royal invite Laing to Ann's party, Simmons tosses Laing out as a cheap bastard exceeding his station. Simmons leads food raids and receives sexual services while telling Royal he doesn't work for him, but the building, as if its an entity itself to those reaping the rewards of its anarchy. Likewise, James Purefoy (The Following) as cold hands gynecologist John Pangbourne is repulsed by the street level antics, walking passed the families arguing with the janitor over food and electricity and telling Royal he's ready to colonize the sky by clearing out the lower floors for a golf course. Pangbourne eventually proves useful delivering Helen's baby, but he beats Wilder, shoving toilet paper in his mouth. He thinks those wearing the leisure suits still control the unspoken rules of the high-rise, and he's willing to humor an exchange with Laing if he will help get rid of Wilder – dividing the ruffians in the middle so the top can prevail and reclaim the building. He mocks Royal as symbolically still holding the key to the building and tries to send him below to get rid of him, for the top isn't as united as they thought – it just takes longer for their ruthless to show once the food runs out and the women grow tired of the men's mistakes.

A Suave Retro Study

I like the Portishead cover of ABBA's “SOS”. It connects today’s bitter bleak with the onscreen breakdown as good film music should. However, I really love the pop gone classical “SOS” version – an ironically pleasant, upbeat strings rendition signaling the imminent social divides amid decadent parties and Marie Antoinette costumes. Dark humor, kaleidoscope designs, visual parallels, and exterior CG imagery accent High-Rise as the initially tall and mighty beacon in the sunny sky grows overcast with the clouds and darkness of its proverbial downfall – the building's shadow looms over the landscape and turns upside down in the perspective of the dead below it. Retro technology, record players, old phones, boob tubes, vintage sports equipment, build it yourself radios, and classy cars invoke the past along with ye olde supermarket styles and platform shoes. High-Rise is obviously seventies set, but it doesn’t say it with any fixed year given. Specifically dating it would trap the film rather than embrace the doubly fun retro futuristic of setting Ballard's predictions in the past. Although an onscreen countdown may have fixed the time frame issues – a character clinging to checking off the essential days or old school digital numbers that switch to handwritten or scribbled counts before disappearing once the chaos goes beyond calendar care. I also wish there had been more period music as a recognizable sign of the then heady excess we recall, if only as an excuse for some ironic Bee Gees!

Though not for everyone, High-Rise is not A Clockwork Orange or as shocking as it wants to be. The film's confusing frame and innate sense of British stoicism can create a numb viewing despite sexual assault and other extremes onscreen. We are also more like Laing than we care to admit – too accustomed to omnipresent sex and violence and sitting back while anarchy sorts itself. David Cronenberg’s Crimes of the Future is a much more disturbing parable, and the potential comparison to Cronenberg’s Shivers was one of the first things that intrigued me about High-Rise. I followed the entire press tour waiting for someone to ask Ben Wheatley about the similarities between Ballard and Cronenberg’s works, but there was only one article with the director's thoughts on the two. It's an older, inferior production, but Shivers embraces the terrible taboos from which High-Rise may shy, and it would be fascinating to compare these two side by side. Reviewing High-Rise took multiple watches, for I had to keep pausing while I typed all my thoughts. This isn't an entertaining or happy viewing experience and High-Rise at times wears its social commentary on its sleeve. However, this remains an intense little “this is why we can't have nice things” picture for a book versus film study, mature audiences, fans of cast and crew, or dystopian viewers.

The Hollow Crown

The Hollow Crown a Delightful Shakespeare Presentation

by Kristin Battestella

In 2012, the BBC Two and later PBS presented this ambitious four part television adaptation of William Shakespeare's histories Richard II, Henry IV Part I, Henry IV Part II, and Henry V collectively called The Hollow Crown. Though seemingly overwhelming, these telemovies help make The Bard more accessible and relatable to the masses with fine characters, charming performances, and classic storytelling. 
 

Richard II – BAFTA winner Ben Whishaw (Skyfall), Patrick Stewart (X-Men), Rory Kinnear (Penny Dreadful), David Morrissey (The Walking Dead), David Suchet (Poirot), James Purefoy (The Following) and more impressive players anchor this first telefilm alongside colorful draped fabrics, regal armor, and medieval chorales setting the 14^th century mood. Despite great historical locations, coastal scenery, horses, and jousts, the design still feels somewhat stage-like or fittingly small scale – our ensemble sits ready to speak in open stone halls rightfully situated not for royal splendor but rather what's being said. Fortunately, the delivery here is smooth and dramatic without hefty, preachy dictation. This court tension just happens to be in old speaketh, and we're not merely watching a play being read aloud the way so many stateside high schoolers erroneously experience Shakespeare. Of course, it does help to know the history at work – Gloucester, Bolingbroke, Plantagenets, ambiguous effemininity. Subtitles are necessary, and scholars may enjoy having a hand held copy handy to compare text. At two and a half hours, there are perhaps some unnecessary to and fro scenes where folks only move to go and talk somewhere different. Arty, overly fancy transition shots; incredibly dark, difficult to see scenes; and distorted, up close camerawork symbolizing the askew mentalities at work make for some tough visuals on top of already difficult and often confusing Shakespearean dialogue. Ironically, thanks to the sophisticated accents and pretty pentameter, this treasonous spearhead is quite pleasant just listening to it! Richard is petty, unlikable, pretentious, out of touch, juvenile, and, well, Kardashian. Understandably the audience expects his downfall yet we can't look away as he questions his kingship, grows conflicted by his actions, and realizes mistakes made in a messianic fall from grace. This is not an easy part to play, but Whishaw embodies the misunderstood boy and undiagnosed but somehow poetic madness. We don't want to choose sides in this comeuppance even as we look for the neutral historical end – after all, both Richard and the future Henry IV do some despicable stuff. There's sympathy, humanity, and a perfectly bittersweet glory in this usurp. 

 

Henry IV Part I – Jeremy Irons (Reversal of Fortune), Simon Russell Beale (Penny Dreadful), Tom Hiddleston (The Avengers), Michelle Dockery (Downton Abbey), Julie Walters (Billy Elliot), and Maxine Peake (Silk) get Episode 2 of The Hollow Crown off to a bustling, ye olde start with medieval markets, lively music, crowded pubs, and drunken good times. Though candlelit charming with wooden sets and a rustic mood, the interiors can be somewhat dark to see. Fortunately, those impoverished designs fittingly contrast the cold, bleak, echoing, stone court full of depressing somber and arguments – a higher up but not as fun place. Again it helps to know the history in the interim from Richard II – Hotspur, Northumberland, Scottish rifts – and the intercut but separate storylines may seem confusing or uneven if one is unfamiliar with the mix of serious court intrigue and cheeky Boar's Head Inn. It takes half the two hour time for the plots to come together, however its dynamite when they do. While Joe Armstrong's (Robin Hood) Percy revolts and Harry Lloyd's (Game of Thrones) pretentiousness aren't as exciting as they should be, Dockery keeps their dilemma interesting. Ironically, although everything is set in motion because of him, we don't see Irons as the titular king very much. He mumbles somewhat as well but his voice carries the proper weight on the king's shoulders low gravitas– uneasy lies the head that wears the crown and all that. Hiddleston's longer blonde hair isn't my favorite look, either, but he is distractingly pretty as the red leather bound, rakish about town Prince Hal. This is an indulgent viewing for fans just as much as scholars can delight in his rolling off the tongue delivery. He's relishing the role and why not? We so often treat Shakespeare with dread, but these are happy drunken antics well balanced with bawdy fun, serious voiceover soliloquies, and proving one's worth. Hiddleston also does a great impression of Irons, and BAFTA winner Beale is a wonderful Falstaff – a fool not quite ready to leave his selfish ways but lovable even when crude or up to no good. With so many multi-layered characters arcs and performances to follow into Part II, this definitely takes more than one viewing. As fine as we expect Bill's words to be, the between the lines are delightful alongside the small scale but cinematic filming and action-centric Shrewsbury finale.

Henry IV Part II – Unlike the cashing in of unnecessarily divided blockbusters, this historical second half was filmed by returning director Richard Eyre (Notes on a Scandal) back to back with its predecessor, utilizing the same locales and cast with choice additions such as Ian Glen (Game of Thrones). Unfortunately, other new and seemingly unimportant secondary characters aren't properly introduced alongside the thin and increasingly somber source material. The pace drags in the middle, growing boring or feeling overlong when the interesting journeys and people we care about are offscreen. The music still creates a quaint atmosphere, however congested arguing on top of the jigs can be frustrating to discern for the non Bard versed. Thankfully, the melancholy court, Latin prayers, and whispering political asides accent the medieval mood. This is a darker picture, with blue hues for castle ills and a tainted yellow patina for Eastcheap before uplifting music, pomp ceremony, and fresh reds and golds reset the tone for Henry V. Jeremy Irons looks increasingly sickly with bleak soliloquies and tender, wise dimension for his sons adding reflection amid his failing health. It's depressing how the separate storylines all sink low despite battle victory and would be elevations, but nonetheless, the intertwined and reversed fates beautifully reveal themselves. Though raised up, Falstaff sticks to his old tricks, using his chance for a clean start for more foolish thinking – like presuming he would be the right hand man for fun and games under King Hal. We can't hate Falstaff thanks to bittersweet ponderings and tender scenes with Maxine Peake as Doll Tearsheet, but he's both too old to right himself and too set in his crooked ways. Prince Hal's so called friends all tail him for their own best interests, but he has to make the big decision to grow up and put away his trouble making pals. We know the history and strife, yet it's still wonderful to see Hal pondering with Henry IV, realizing Falstaff for what he really is, and accepting the right path between his two flawed father figures. Hiddleston appears a half hour in to Part II as the shirtless and charming Hal, however, he seems to have less screen time until his confrontation with Falstaff halfway through – his red leather jacket appears briefly in Hal's only Boar's Head scene before gradual outfit changes suggest the regal velvets to come for the brilliant finale. This final act forgives any sagging with its fathers and sons, deathbed vigils, and tearful men becoming noble kings. There's no time to mourn when the torch is passed, nor is it any easier when the crown goes from one head to the next instead of being built on battlefield legacies. There's a nice behind the scenes feature on this disc discussing both Henry IV parts, and though uneven, this episode does what it sets out to do in making us eager to see what happens to its successor. 

Henry V – These final two hours plus of The Hollow Crown make some eponymous changes – from a subdued St. Crispin's Day moment and skipped battlefield carnage to omitted side plots and excised humor. While the music, costuming, Latin funerary, blue for France flair, and red for England palette are charming, the saturated screen is often too dark to see. Up close, congested, slow motion fighting also intentionally hides the small scale production, and at times oft theatre director Thea Sharrock seems to play it safe by not fully utilizing the camera or making any political or warfare statements as this material is ripe to do. The action is also slow to start, with almost twenty minutes of courtiers chirping the pros and cons in each king's ears about Edward the Black Prince and claims upon France before the build to Agincourt and a final romantic but short lived French alliance. The ensemble does well, but the new players aren't properly introduced, creating little endearment beyond the Harry we know and love. The now top billed Tom Hiddleston looks different as Henry V, aged with a goatee, darker hair, and in the field grit. Although he's not an over the top big battle commander, Hiddleston has a gravitas both with words and on horseback. Harry can be personal, soft spoken, and religious whilst also not backing down from leading from the front despite internal fears, lovely prayers, and serious soliloquies. This king is humble and in arms with his men, honest and full of grace but certainly capable of the bombastic and unmerciful. The private battle speeches fit this characterization and keep the focus on the individual before the spectacle as a good play should. Shakespeare perhaps glorified the past but this Henry is a man first and a hero second. This episode wisely stays with Henry most of the time, reducing Pistol, Nym, Bardolph and unnecessary humor. Lambert Wilson (Timeline) is comparatively somber as the King of France, and despite only a few scenes, Melanie Thierry (Babylon A.D.) is immediately enchanting in what could be an awkward courtship. The French lessons are not translated on screen, which may annoy some, however this softened, continental appeal adds to the stage-like mood where Sharrock directs best. I hate to say it as it would be inaccurate to not have the imaginative, descriptive Chorus as narrated by John Hurt (Alien), but if you can see the ships and scenery, you don't need the voiceover, and the characters could have just said the transitions themselves. Fortunately, the script is the thing here, with famous lines and history turned drama discussed in several behind the scenes bonus features. Granted there are production flaws and questionable direction at times. However, this is a great, easy to get behind story, and the condensed plots and reduce battle focus make for a classroom friendly viewing or scholarly discussion.