The King

The King is one of those Netflix offerings that have a release in cinemas just in case they might get Oscar nominations, but I don't think The King will, unless it's for costume design. It's an okay film, competently presented, but I don't quite understand why it was made.

It tells the same basic story as Shakespeare's Henriad--three plays that cover the transformation of Prince Hal from a wastrel into the great King Henry V. The King, however, does not use Shakespeare's language. It's kind of ballsy to cover a subject that a literate person already recognizes that has been done much better.

The King mostly covers the period from Hal's ascension to the throne to the victory at Agincourt against the French. The scenes of him as a drunken whore monger are very short (Shakespeare turned this into two plays). His father, Henry IV (Ben Mendelsohn) calls him to court to tell him he's going to be passed over as heir for his younger brother, and he doesn't care much. But then he upstages his brother by killing the rebellious Hotspur mano-a-mano, and the brother gets killed in battle and Hal becomes king anyway.

The main difference between The King and Shakespeare, aside from the language, is the change to Falstaff, Hal's drinking buddy and boastful and cowardly knight. In Shakespeare, when Hal becomes king he rebukes Falstaff (the character does not appear on stage in Henry V). But here he embraces him as an adviser, and Falstaff is a major part of the battle. He is played by Joel Edgerton, who co-wrote the screenplay, so perhaps this is partly Falstaff's redemption.

Timothee Chalamet plays Hal/Henry, and he does with one basic expression on his face. This character is so far more interesting than presented here. There is no reason given for the estrangement between father and son, it just is. If one had not read the plays there might be some confusion--just what is wrong with this kid?

Also in the cast are Robert Pattinson, as the French Dauphin, played as if he were a rock star from the glam period, and Lily-Rose Depp, Johnny's daughter, acquitting herself well in a brief scene as Henry's future wife, telling him she will take no shit.

A film of Henry V without the language is like watching the whole of The Wizard of Oz in black and white. The language is missed--there is no St. Crispin's Day speech, no "We happy few," no "band of brothers." It's a bit like a high school kid writing a term paper on the play based on the plot he remembered.