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.