Henry V at The Royal Shakespeare - Review

★★☆☆☆

Henry V is Shakespeare’s ultimate examination of war, power, and national identity, a story that feels uncomfortably relevant in today’s political climate. So when the Royal Shakespeare Company revive this history play in the landscape of 2026, expectations are sky-high. But is this Henry V a gripping, contemporary statement on leadership and conflict… or another revival that flirts with big ideas without ever fully landing them?

Sion Pritchard (Fluellen) and Alfred Enoch (Henry). Photo Credit: Johan Persson

The story itself sees a young and relatively reckless King Henry claim French territory, leading England into war. What follows is a journey from court politics to the brutality of the battlefield, culminating in victory at Agincourt and a politically strategic marriage to Princess Katherine of France. It’s a play that asks whether Henry is a heroic leader or a dangerous opportunist, and whether war is something to celebrate or question.

Which is exactly where this production starts to wobble. Director Tamara Harvey clearly wants to explore all of those questions. And there are moments where the show brushes up against something genuinely powerful: Henry’s realisation of the cost of war and how fragile leadership can be without due process. But the frustrating thing is that it never quite follows through. It’s a production that raises questions and then quietly backs away from answering them. You leave not challenged, not provoked, just a bit… unsure.

I find conceptual vagueness more frustrating than a production taking a stance you disagree with. At least then you’ve got something to wrestle with. Here, it feels like the show is constantly hovering in the middle ground, never quite planting its flag. Is this a critique of war? A celebration of it? A character study? A political statement? It flirts with all of them, but commits to none.

Alfred Enoch is, without question, a capable and intelligent actor. His grasp of Shakespeare’s verse is clear, precise, and accessible, arguably one of the production’s strongest assets. If you’re someone who finds Shakespeare impenetrable, this is a Henry you can follow. Every word lands cleanly. But dramatically, something doesn’t quite click.

Henry V ensemble. Photo Credit: Johan Persson

Enoch’s Henry begins as warm, likeable, and quietly confident, but he largely stays there. There’s very little sense of transformation. You’re waiting for that shift: the moment where the boy becomes the king, where the careless youth transitions into a ruthless wartime leader. But it never really arrives. The famous rallying “St Crispin Day” speech feels oddly underpowered, with the character’s darker edges softened to the point where they almost disappear. It’s a performance that is technically strong but emotionally undercooked.

Paul Hunter brings a chaotic, physical energy to Pistol that is genuinely entertaining. His comedy lands, his presence is magnetic, but even here, there’s a tonal issue. The humour routinely undercuts the more serious moments, creating a slightly awkward clash.

Sion Pritchard offers one of the most grounded performances of the evening as Fluellen, a character shaped by war rather than merely passing through it. It’s a performance that feels fully realised. Elsewhere, there’s strong, thoughtful work from the ensemble. Jamie Ballard, Catrin Aaron, and Tanvi Virmani all bring clarity and intention to their roles, helping to anchor the production.

Visually, the show is impressive. The movement and choreography create striking battlefield imagery, leaning into stylisation rather than realism. There’s a particularly effective sequence where soldiers die one by one during a monologue, a simple but powerful theatrical image. While these moments are visually engaging, they often feel disconnected from the surrounding play. The production swings between naturalistic storytelling and abstract theatricality without a consistent tone. It’s like watching two different shows trying to coexist on the same stage.

That inconsistency becomes most apparent in the play’s final moments. The courtship scene between Henry and Katherine lands particularly awkwardly. What should be a politically loaded exchange instead feels uncomfortable and tonally out of step. Henry’s forced kiss reads less as a strategic power play and more as a jarring character derailment; somehow, Henry becomes part of the manosphere. After everything that’s come before, it leaves you questioning who this version of Henry actually is.

There are glimpses throughout this production of something sharper, something more daring. You can see the ideas. You can feel the intention. But they’re never pushed far enough to land with real impact. And that’s the overriding feeling: a production full of potential that never quite fulfils it.

There’s plenty here to admire: the clarity of the text, the strength of the ensemble, the visual ambition, but it stops just short of saying anything meaningful. It’s thoughtful, but not challenging. Polished, but not powerful. This Henry V looks the part, sounds the part. It may wear the crown, but it doesn’t quite rule the stage.