Henry IV, Part One

Henry IV, Part One is one of my favorite Shakespeare plays and one of the most entertaining plays in the canon.

I’m approaching the play as a coming-of-age story of a young man, Hal, torn between passion and duty, id and superego, on a journey toward becoming a leader. Henry IV.1 is also a story of fathers and sons, particularly of a young man torn between two fathers: on the one hand, his distant, authoritarian, real father, Henry IV; and on the other, the polar opposite—his ebullient, irrepressible surrogate father, Falstaff. I wish Henry IV.1 was actually called Hal and Falstaff because the relationship between these two dynamic characters is, for me, the heart of the play. It’s a “bromance” that is incredibly seductive even though we know it’s ultimately headed toward destruction.

This intensely personal story about growing up plays out against a political backdrop of civil discord and questions of rightful rule, reminding us that Shakespeare’s histories are the ultimate examination of how the personal and the political are intertwined. They are stories about powerful families in conflict, making political decisions that affect ordinary people: decisions that are driven by intensely personal ambitions, loyalties, and vendettas. The nature of moral leadership is deeply embedded into Shakespeare’s histories and is something that has always fascinated me. In Henry IV.1 specifically, we follow a carefree young prince, enjoying a decadent life of leisure, as he steps up and assumes his responsibility as the future leader of a nation in crisis. This is particularly resonant right now as we consider what we need from our leaders and from ourselves at this crucial moment in our nation’s history. It is this lens that makes this play about Medieval English history urgent and relevant to us as contemporary Americans.

Lately I’ve been immersed in the world of very dark history plays, so it is a relief to travel to the boisterous world of Henry IV.1, and to fill the Elizabethan stage with broadsword fights and broad humor. A “funny history play” might seem like an oxymoron, but the play is very funny and full of vigor and vibrancy. From the hapless hijinks of the Eastcheap gang to the blustering braggadocio of Falstaff and the playful teasing of Hotspur and Lady Percy, the play is filled with warmth, laughter, and human frailty.

—Rosa Joshi