Wild.

The first two parts were kind of boring. A lot of posing and political arguments, but part three had a lot more action and character development, leading into Richard III.

The histories aren't my favorite.

"The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on."
― William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part 3



In the Henry VI trilogy, this is probably my least favorite. It wasn't bad and had some good lines (not enough great ones) and exciting sequences, but it just didn't have that extra-level, that super-float that Shakespeare sometimes gives his plays. This one just seemed a bit "bound" by this history. It was overshadowed by the other Henry VI plays, other Henry plays, other history plays, other Shakespeare plays. It was out played.

There were also several nice lines, specifically:

― I am your butt, and I abide your shot.

― I know, I am too mean to be your queen;
And yet too good to be your concubine.

― What fates impose, that men must needs abide;
It boots not to resist both wind and tide.

― Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile.

― Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither.

― Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.

This one was interesting - essentially a really intense game of musical chairs (the chair being the throne) between Henry VI; his son, Prince Edward; King Edward IV; and King Edward's brother, Richard (to-be King Richard III). Lots of action, lots of players, lots of betrayals, and lots to get confused. These editions don't have the clearest notes ever, so there was also lots of Googling involved in this one.

Two more to go!! Richard III is a nasty one, apparently, and then Henry VIII should be interesting since he was Lizzie's dad. I'm not sure how favorably he'll be portrayed.

So much killing

Exquisite. For me, this is without a doubt the finest of the Henry VI—the clearest in its characterization, pacing, and tragic structure. Henry’s downfall is inevitable not simply because he is a weak-willed and ineffective ruler (which would seem to be his own fault, making him a poor subject of tragedy) but because he is gentle, compassionate, and well-intentioned in a historical moment that rewards ruthlessness and lust for power.

For me, the play crystallizes in 4.8, when Henry wanders through the woods in hiding, listing examples of his mercy and magnanimity, before finally asking “Then why should they love Edward more than me?”

Instantly the play became a lens through which to view the present day. Are we not now wrestling with the fact that the qualities of good human beings might preclude them from effectively seizing and wielding power? But of course every era has its Emmanuel Macrons and Mitch McConnells. The fact that it’s so easy to find contemporary parallels just illustrates how effectively Shakespeare and his collaborators told a story not just of a single ill-fated king, but of a broader problem of political efficacy and human nature.

Compared to 2H6, the structure is more cleanly bifurcated, structured to contrast the unstoppable rise of the opportunistic Yorkists and the desperate downfall of Henry’s frustrated supporters. It’s an effective choice—paring down the polyphony of the previous play gives more room for Henry and his rivals, particularly Richard/Gloucester, to outline their philosophies in speeches. Here a lion-lamb dichotomy emerges which was, to me, shockingly effective at setting the play on course to its tragic telos.

I haven’t felt for a tragic protagonist the way I felt for Henry in, well, maybe ever. It’s so clear that he never would have chosen this life for himself, that being born with a beautiful, sensitive soul has doomed him from the outset.

Yet again, good but not great. The saving grace is the lovely Gloucester (Richard III) who starts really having a part in this play, then, obviously, is further showed up in the next play. It's just an odd piece of propaganda, these few plays. Because Shakespeare had to tread carefully. Elizabeth I's grandparents were Lancasters and Yorks, after all.