I spotted that this was on the BBC having seen the recent re-release of the Laurence Olivier version; wisely, Branagh doesn't go for any kind of direct competition, as the two films are totally different.
My abiding impression: gloom. Even the titles are low-contrast red on black; most of the film is either orange-tinged, or bluish-dim from dark or from rain. It's a play of candles and whispers, where people spend much of their time in hoarse undertones speaking very rapidly (was Branagh as director trying to cut down the running time?) The only sunny, light-filled room was Princess Katherine's bedchamber, and likewise this was more or less the only scene played for laughs: Olivier's film retains the comic relief of the stage version, but Branagh's is dark in more senses than one.
While I found Olivier's production oddly uneven (some scenes work brilliantly, others remain earthbound), this film worked, but at a consistently low-key level. In places its remorseless 'gritty' approach works against the text: the King announces that only a handful of English soldiers died, but the film depicts a slaughter ground. (I couldn't help wondering why Harry is carrying a random corpse -- apparently one of the dead 'boys' -- since if the intent is to suggest that we are equally to mourn the dead French, having him slog across a wasteland of corpses with one of his own men on his back rather nullifies the implication.) I was also confused when the archers are shown firing INTO the mêlée, where they cannot possibly discriminate between friend and foe; either the arrows are going to a completely different destination from the combat between which these scenes are cut, or the director just thought it would look good without realising the lethal effect of such volleys. The scene with Branagh prancing about at Harfleur on a white horse (and posing conveniently in an archway against the flames) suggests that he didn't have much respect for medieval arrows' effectiveness.
As for the big scenes, Harfleur didn't work for me in either version: Olivier's is too obviously pasteboard (no danger from archers there, as they never get off the beaches!) while Branagh's is too theatrical for its would-be realistic setting. Branagh wins on "St Crispin's day", which is more integrated into the surrounding scene (Olivier gives a beautiful recitation, but I don't feel that it blends in). Olivier definitely wins on the night before the battle, both French and English: he has both the humour and the pathos of it, and his personal performance is by far more sensitive. Branagh's version feels abrasive and rushed: the section he really lays stress on is Harry's remorse for his father's usurpation, which Olivier cuts altogether, shaping the scene instead towards the weight of soldiers' deaths on the warmaker's conscience.
Neither is really successful on the battle, although Branagh clearly has more money to throw at it; Brian Blessed in full armour is an awesomely massive sight! The use of slow-motion feels rather self-important, although in all fairness it may not have been such a cliché in 1989 as it has become in action scenes since. I like the scene in which the French charge is shown only as an approaching thunder of hoofs and the widening eyes of the men facing it; but then Olivier's squadron of Irish farm-boys on horses are also pretty impressive. (Perhaps horses and extras who can ride were harder to obtain by Branagh's day!) The scene where the King tells the French herald that he really has no idea which side is winning rings true, as it is not particularly clear what is going on... the preceding sequence where he violates the herald's traditional immunity from attack ("I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed" as Tolkien, who knew his mediaeval literature, phrased it) does not.
Branagh falls pretty flat on the wooing scene, mainly because again he plays it basically straight rather than with humour. He has the looks for a plain soldier king, but little trace of the charm needed to pull the wooing off, and it is unsurprisingly that Emma Thompson's Katherine appears entirely unconvinced save on dynastic grounds until he kisses her. In the context of his film as a whole, this final scene appears as a distinctly disjointed coda to an otherwise downbeat production: Branagh's "Henry V" is all about the run-up to the big battle sequences, and there's an almost palpable feeling of "Now, here we are" as the fight is about to begin. Olivier's production, pulling out from the real landscapes of the battle to the semi-staged court, then back to the Elizabethan theatre and finally out to a model altogether, winds down much more gracefully.
I'm not sure how much of the difference between the two versions is the difference between the cinema and the television (humour, in particular, goes down much more effectively with a full audience), but I think the grimy tone of Branagh's is undoubtedly intentional, and with hindsight I think it does the production no favours. The changes in tone between the realistic and the theatrical, the play for laughs and play of conscience, the heroic and the rascal, serve Olivier well: the constant unrelieved intensity of Branagh's production is a strain, and the play as written doesn't always sit comfortably with all the comedy removed. Some release of tension is, I think, necessary.
The film's level of success is consistent, but I found I didn't actually enjoy it that much. The wartime version works better... when it does work.
My abiding impression: gloom. Even the titles are low-contrast red on black; most of the film is either orange-tinged, or bluish-dim from dark or from rain. It's a play of candles and whispers, where people spend much of their time in hoarse undertones speaking very rapidly (was Branagh as director trying to cut down the running time?) The only sunny, light-filled room was Princess Katherine's bedchamber, and likewise this was more or less the only scene played for laughs: Olivier's film retains the comic relief of the stage version, but Branagh's is dark in more senses than one.
While I found Olivier's production oddly uneven (some scenes work brilliantly, others remain earthbound), this film worked, but at a consistently low-key level. In places its remorseless 'gritty' approach works against the text: the King announces that only a handful of English soldiers died, but the film depicts a slaughter ground. (I couldn't help wondering why Harry is carrying a random corpse -- apparently one of the dead 'boys' -- since if the intent is to suggest that we are equally to mourn the dead French, having him slog across a wasteland of corpses with one of his own men on his back rather nullifies the implication.) I was also confused when the archers are shown firing INTO the mêlée, where they cannot possibly discriminate between friend and foe; either the arrows are going to a completely different destination from the combat between which these scenes are cut, or the director just thought it would look good without realising the lethal effect of such volleys. The scene with Branagh prancing about at Harfleur on a white horse (and posing conveniently in an archway against the flames) suggests that he didn't have much respect for medieval arrows' effectiveness.
As for the big scenes, Harfleur didn't work for me in either version: Olivier's is too obviously pasteboard (no danger from archers there, as they never get off the beaches!) while Branagh's is too theatrical for its would-be realistic setting. Branagh wins on "St Crispin's day", which is more integrated into the surrounding scene (Olivier gives a beautiful recitation, but I don't feel that it blends in). Olivier definitely wins on the night before the battle, both French and English: he has both the humour and the pathos of it, and his personal performance is by far more sensitive. Branagh's version feels abrasive and rushed: the section he really lays stress on is Harry's remorse for his father's usurpation, which Olivier cuts altogether, shaping the scene instead towards the weight of soldiers' deaths on the warmaker's conscience.
Neither is really successful on the battle, although Branagh clearly has more money to throw at it; Brian Blessed in full armour is an awesomely massive sight! The use of slow-motion feels rather self-important, although in all fairness it may not have been such a cliché in 1989 as it has become in action scenes since. I like the scene in which the French charge is shown only as an approaching thunder of hoofs and the widening eyes of the men facing it; but then Olivier's squadron of Irish farm-boys on horses are also pretty impressive. (Perhaps horses and extras who can ride were harder to obtain by Branagh's day!) The scene where the King tells the French herald that he really has no idea which side is winning rings true, as it is not particularly clear what is going on... the preceding sequence where he violates the herald's traditional immunity from attack ("I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed" as Tolkien, who knew his mediaeval literature, phrased it) does not.
Branagh falls pretty flat on the wooing scene, mainly because again he plays it basically straight rather than with humour. He has the looks for a plain soldier king, but little trace of the charm needed to pull the wooing off, and it is unsurprisingly that Emma Thompson's Katherine appears entirely unconvinced save on dynastic grounds until he kisses her. In the context of his film as a whole, this final scene appears as a distinctly disjointed coda to an otherwise downbeat production: Branagh's "Henry V" is all about the run-up to the big battle sequences, and there's an almost palpable feeling of "Now, here we are" as the fight is about to begin. Olivier's production, pulling out from the real landscapes of the battle to the semi-staged court, then back to the Elizabethan theatre and finally out to a model altogether, winds down much more gracefully.
I'm not sure how much of the difference between the two versions is the difference between the cinema and the television (humour, in particular, goes down much more effectively with a full audience), but I think the grimy tone of Branagh's is undoubtedly intentional, and with hindsight I think it does the production no favours. The changes in tone between the realistic and the theatrical, the play for laughs and play of conscience, the heroic and the rascal, serve Olivier well: the constant unrelieved intensity of Branagh's production is a strain, and the play as written doesn't always sit comfortably with all the comedy removed. Some release of tension is, I think, necessary.
The film's level of success is consistent, but I found I didn't actually enjoy it that much. The wartime version works better... when it does work.