Mark Reviews Movies: THE KING (2019)

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Review by Mark Dujsik | October 17, 2019

The idea behind The King, which tells a story of the folly of hubris, is itself an act of hubris. To be sure, despite the playwright not being credited within the film, this is a re-telling of William Shakespeare's cycle of plays about the ascent, both to the throne and within history, of King Henry V.

There are only a few, if any, creative impulses more prideful than the idea that a writer can do Shakespeare better. The screenplay by director David Michôd and Joel Edgerton certainly could be seen in such a light, but for as much as the pair crib from the Bard (from the basic plot to at least one character whom Shakespeare created just for the plays), they have, quite admirably, made an entirely different story.

It's not just certain details of the plot and aspects of the characters that have changed. Michôd and Edgerton have approached the tale—of the rebellious young man who becomes England's warrior king—with a clear narrative focus. It sees the once Prince Hal, frequenter of taverns and enjoyer of sex workers, and future King Henry, the monarch who united his country in war against France, as a contradiction.

Shakespeare presented that idea, too, to a degree, although his Hal in Henry IV, Part 1 let the audience know, in no uncertain terms, that his youthful indiscretions were nothing more than a ruse. He knew that he was born to be the king and that, when the time came, he would do the job to the best of his ability. He also, though, wanted a bit of an insurance policy: If the court and the people believed Hal was reckless and unworthy, they would be shocked and in awe of even the slightest bit of competency from the new King Henry.

This Hal, played by Timothée Chalamet, offers no such assurances about his desire for the throne or his potential capabilities as king. While he drinks and beds women and pals around with Sir John Falstaff (Edgerton, because of course the screenwriter/actor is going to give himself the juiciest role), Hal is genuinely trying to escape his inheritance. He doesn't want the crown. He doesn't want the wars that his father Henry IV (Ben Mendelsohn) began—in part by deposing his predecessor. He finds war distasteful, and he finds civil war, as is happening with Scotland and Wales, to be abominable.

Almost immediately, though, Hal finds himself in battle, because his father has declared a young nobleman to be a traitor and has assigned Hal's younger brother Thomas (Dean-Charles Chapman) to lead the campaign against the defector. For a man who has no desire for war, Hal certainly holds his own in one-on-one combat, portrayed, as with the Battle of Agincourt later, without any romantic heroism—only as a grueling, punishing test of endurance.

For a prince who wants nothing to do with the politics of power and war, he certainly takes to that quite well, too, after his father's death. For a man who has spent most of his life not caring what other's think, the recently crowned Henry, now only Hal to Falstaff in private, definitely seems eager to go to war with France, when enough of his advisors tell him that he should. An insult from the Dauphin (Robert Pattison, playing a fop full of hollow threats with much aplomb) of France and the appearance of an alleged assassin certainly help those advisors make the argument for war.

The plot, of course, belongs primarily to history and to Shakespeare, but beyond the shift to the character of Hal/Henry, the screenplay makes some notable changes. The biggest one is the survival of Falstaff, who doesn't simply waste away in his favorite tavern while his old friend seems to forget his existence. Here, the cowardly buffoon of many words from Shakespeare becomes a brave and poignant semi-fool, who only speaks when he believes it to be necessary.

The decision, which surely will irritate or downright anger purists, serves a pointed purpose in this variation of the story. Falstaff represents something true. He is honest with his friend, who just happens to be the King of England, and becomes a reminder, often forgotten in the chaos and soullessness of war, of the man that Henry once was—if, considering how adept he is in that first row with his father's enemy, there ever was a real Hal in the first place.

That's the central question of this film, which, by the way, also ignores Shakespeare dialogue, although Michôd and Edgerton's is succinct and colorful enough that we don't necessarily miss the original (They are, again, doing their own thing with this tale, so why shouldn't the writing itself reflect that fact?). Is Hal, the prince who purports to hate conflict and power, the real man, or has this man always been Henry, just waiting for the opportunity and the power to enact conflict to come to him? How much of the campaign against France is the result of failed politics and the guidance of advisors eager for a fight, and how much of it is the inherent corruption of the power Henry now possesses?

Essentially, the filmmakers have taken Shakespeare's story, condensed it, and given it the intimacy of a character study—changing what needs to be changed for that effect, while still remaining true to the spirit of history and the original works. The King is a thoughtful adaptation that raises difficult questions about the nature of power, as well as those who choose or have been chosen to wield it.

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