When I saw Dakin Matthews’ canny distillation of the two parts of Henry IV at Lincoln Center Theater in 2003, I found it the best Shakespeare I’ve ever seen in New York (and still do)—Jack O’Brien adroitly directed a star-studded cast headed by Kevin Kline as Falstaff, and Matthews’ adaptation subtly distilled the essence of both works into one absorbing four-hour play.

 

Matthews’ Henry IV returns in a far different staging at the Polonsky Shakespeare Center in Brooklyn. Unlike O’Brien’s lush, almost cinematic production, Eric Tucker directs a smaller-scaled version in the round. There are drawbacks to this approach, since the action takes place among dozens of characters in several far-flung locales, including the king’s court, London taverns and a battlefield. The cramped stage area is acknowledged by actors sitting in seats among the audience when not performing, which fosters more intimacy among spectators and performers. And performing in the round by definition has actors facing away from a part of the audience at all times, which has a tendency to swallow important dialogue.

 

Nicole E. Lang’s lighting illuminates the proceedings on Jimmy Stubbs’ minimalist set both dramatically and psychologically, while Catherine Zuber and AC Gottlieb’s costumes pleasingly mix period and modern. Tucker nicely paces the drama among the king’s council discussions, the rebels’ machinations and the lively tavern interludes among London’s lowlifes. He has also double-cast several roles, so some performers change costumes and become other characters right onstage. It’s a diverting effect, but it also points up the difficulty of doing the Bard on a budget, since such busyness at times detracts from the play itself.

 

Of those taking on multiple roles, best are the charismatic Jordan Bellow, who adroitly shuttles between Prince Hal’s brother John and Hal’s partner in frivolity Ned Poins; and the winning Cara Ricketts, who makes both a touching Lady Percy and a rollicking Doll Tearsheet. Matthews himself—who played a supporting role in the 2003 Lincoln Center production—gives the title monarch a sturdy royal presence. 

 

Shakespeare is most interested in the relationship between Hal and his friend, the braggart, womanizer, and self-styled wit named Sir John Falstaff. When Hal prods Falstaff to even greater heights of self-delusion, it makes Falstaff simultaneously funnier and more sorrowful. Elijah Jones finds a nice balance between Hal’s foolishness and budding maturity, and Jay O. Sanders follows in Kevin Kline’s large footsteps to create a Falstaff who is both outsized and normal, buffoonish yet always sympathetic. 

 

Near the end, Hal—now Henry V after his father’s death—coldly banishes his erstwhile friend and sparring partner from the kingdom; Sanders plays this moment with shock and resignation but also a sliver of pride that the young man Falstaff believes he himself has led to this moment has, indeed, met the moment. This is not an essential Shakespeare staging but it is entertaining, which nowadays is nothing to sneeze at.