The RSC’s production of Henry IV Part II was fascinating for many reasons: it was completely different from Part I’s set pieces, Falstaff’s background is explored, innocence is embodied onstage, and Hal’s transformation is nearly complete. However, what was most provocative to me was the production’s use of lighting. When the stage lights are dimmed, a nocturnal world is born—one of emotional clarity that only emerges from the haze and safety of darkness. A profound kind of honesty emerges from this nightly world, one that contrasts with the secrecy that darkness naturally supplies. Oddly, well-lit scenes and daylight illuminate nothing for the characters of Part II. Instead, light seems only to signal impending calamity—whether it be the news of Hotspur’s death, Prince John’s betrayal, or even the slow and pandering decay brought by age. The contrast between light and dark is a component of the general cognitive dissonance present in Henry IV Part II; this tension also manifests, often unbearably, between youth and old age, innocence and experience, duty and desire, war and peace, life and death, and love and apathy.
The very nature of darkness inspires secrecy—it conceals things, both physically and in a larger sense, emotionally. However, it is only in darkness that the production allows certain characters to access primal depths of emotion. This is evident from the very first moments of the play, which, after Rumour, open with Northumberland learning of his son’s death. More arresting in her grief, however, is Kate, who the production places on a balcony above the calamitous news. She is in a recess away from the main stage, and is therefore in a darker area. Despite this, the emotion is tautly visible on her face—she shakes and sways, cries and laments—silently. She exudes the most visceral emotion in the scene—a figment of the production that does not appear in the original text—and it is all the more potent because it is not on the main stage, in the light; the darkness simultaneously provides intimacy and clarity.
The most striking examples of the dark/clarity dichotomy, however, revolve around a single room—specifically, the tavern room. When Falstaff breaks down outside of it, the room is lit in a halo, enveloped by the purplish darkness outside. Anthony Sher’s Falstaff suffers only two lapses in his jovial emotional armor and this is one of them. The ensuing breakdown, in which he collapses into tears, takes place in complete darkness. This rare moment of naked emotion demonstrates that darkness indicates safety in the RSC’s production. The second moment occurs when Henry IV wanders amongst his subjects, in this case a sleeping Mistress Quickly. It is immediately clear his health is in danger—his haggard appearance and insomnia tell us as much. However, in his nighttime wanderings, he manages a lucid and incredibly impassioned speech about the burden of the crown. Despite his shoddy surroundings, despite his ragged attire, he still imparts the gravity of a monarch. However, this clarity quickly dissipates when he is confronted by the light of his men’s torches. He quickly dissolves back into a king who is slowly going mad; gone is the emotional clarity he displays before.
When the stage is well-lit, its characters are no longer safe from the ravages of life. This begins when Lady Percy entreats Northumberland to stay away from Scotland. The stage is lit up, and there are no prominent set pieces—the space is staggeringly sparse. This better displays the raw grief Lady Percy displays. Unlike the dark, which renders the sufferer hidden and therefore safe, her inner turmoil is voyeuristically revealed. Prince John’s political machinations also provide a contrast to the revealing power of light. He breaks the valiant tradition of honor and reneges on his word. This notion of honor is clear as day (and as well-lit as the stage), but Prince John subverts it into something twisted, made all the more disturbing by the fact that it is no clandestine occurrence. It occurs in broad, open light, demonstrating that the dark is safer. It is no coincidence that Hal’s rejection of Falstaff occurs in strong light; it reveals fully, harshly, the magnitude of Falstaff’s embarrassment at having been treated so. The most dramatic display of the play’s dissonance, aptly demonstrated through the use of lighting, is when the young page is left alone onstage; the lights go off, and he is there once more, but something has changed in the darkness. It is now implicitly understood that the current of innocence that ran so lightheartedly through Part I is no longer present. Like the page, it is left in the dark. Finally, the scenes involving Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence provide the most sentimental example of this production’s phenomenon. Each scene involving the three is lit with a sepia tone, which invokes a sense of nostalgia, but also conjures a deeply disconcerting truth: nothing, not even the illuminating force of light, can slow the terrifying shroud of dementia. Shallow and Silence are deteriorating. Underscoring the comic relief they provide is the cynical, blacker realization that they are the way they are because they are near death.
My immediate reaction to this production was disappointment. I greatly enjoyed Part I, so it was strange to see a play so different in style, structure, and content. However, upon further reflection I realized I liked Part II equally, if not better, than Part I. The lighting was a revelation—I never knew that such technical aspects of the production could invoke such a strong emotional response. Additionally, I believe each actor demonstrated a greater range of ability. Alex Hassell was no longer the wastrel, but a cold and removed monarch by the end of the play. Anthony Sher showed why he is so revered…the look on his face, just after he has been rejected, seemed like all the sadness and bitterness of each character concentrated into a single expression. I loved the scenes with Shallow and Silence—they reminded me of my grandfather. This performance made me view the play entirely differently. When I read it, it seemed a paltry sequel. However, it was much more powerful to actually witness the end of the fun and games. When all was said and done, I felt like the page: alone, confused, wondering what just happened. I think plays should leave viewers emotionally stunned, and that’s certainly what this production did.