Theatre in Review: Henry IV, Part I (Pearl Theatre Company)To accommodate the action of Henry IV, Part I, Daniel Zimmerman, the set designer, has stripped the Pearl Theatre stage to the walls. At stage right is a large map of Britain; at stage left are barrels of wine and a tavern atmosphere. Occupying stage center is a raised deck; it's not quite the "wooden O" of Shakespeare's day, but it easily contains a play that moves almost cinematically from the intimate to the epic. In Henry IV, Part I, the conflicts of fathers and sons are intermingled with the fate of a nation. The stage is a kind of game board on which political intrigues, psychological conflicts, and, finally, the clash of armies are all played out. It's a play that contains multitudes, and yet the director, Davis McCallum, does full justice to it with a cast of only 12, most of whom do double- and triple-duty as various characters. Anchoring the production are four central performances. Bradford Cover's Henry IV, having ascended the throne after the untimely death of Richard II, is an almost priggish figure, uneasily ruling over a nation beset by cantankerous, power-seeking nobles. He is disgusted by the political scheming of his court and furious at the mortifying shenanigans of his son, Prince Hal, and his wine-soaked companion, Falstaff. Clearly, politics are not his forte; he'd rather be in Jerusalem, doing penance for Richard's death. I don't think I've ever seen a Henry so nakedly display his contempt for the schemers and voluptuaries who surround him, but this approach certainly makes his scenes crackle. As Prince Hal, John Brummer, making an impressive New York debut, shows how the college-age carouser easily inhabits the same body as the youth who knows that his future is filled with grave responsibilities. And yet he clings to Falstaff for the love of him; having caught Falstaff in a lie and exposed him to the raucous laughter of their companions, Brummer's Hal throws his arms around the boozy old fool, embracing him like a young boy desperate for a little affection. The scene -- one of Shakespeare's most acute -- in which Hal pretends to be the king, excoriating his son (played by Falstaff), reveals the depths of Hal's disaffection; it also hints at the final breach between Hal and Falstaff, which will not take place until the Henry IV, Part II. This is a complex and deeply felt performance; it makes one eager to see Brummer again. Prince Hal's opposite number is Harry Percy, AKA Hotspur, the bellicose son of Northumberland, who leads the bloody rebellion against what he sees as Henry's illegitimate reign. He's a man of decision with a brilliantly calculating mind, qualities sufficient to make Henry ruefully wish that he could somehow swap Hal for Harry as his heir. ("That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged/In cradle-clothes our children where they lay/And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!") Shawn Fagan (who also did fine work as a man undermined by his temper in Wife to James Whelan, at the Mint Theatre a couple of years ago) is a commanding figure in both voice and physical presence, yet he makes clear how Hotspur's unchecked rage and overweening pride will surely be his downfall. The fourth character in this emotional rectangle of parents, children, father figures, and surrogate sons is, of course, Falstaff, his body shaped like a wine sack, his spirit undimmed by years of dissipation, his foolishness unprotected by shame. Dan Daily has some lovely moments, displaying surprisingly fancy footwork for someone of his girth as he recalls fighting off a gang of imaginary bandits or recalling his salad days, when he was young and trim. ("I was/Not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have/Crept into any alderman's thumb-ring.") The sight of him impersonating Henry, sitting on a mocked-up throne, a pillow on his head rather than a crowd, is especially treasurable. But Daily, who has played the role before, in the Pearl's 2000 staging of The Merry Wives of Windsor, provides a surprisingly decorous Falstaff. There's an element of lechery missing, a sense of the character's unappeasable appetite for pleasure and mischief. Daily may be consciously playing against type, and the important elements are there -- especially his obvious feeling for Hal -- but it all could be taken up a step or two. Otherwise, McCallum balances close-up portraits of power struggles and psychological confrontation -- the big faceoff between Henry and Hal bristles with uncoiled rage -- and excitingly staged battlefield scenes, full of suspenseful swordplay, which are paced by the excellent work of fight director Rod Kinter. In a supporting cast without a weak link, there is especially good work from Dominic Cuskern as the scheming Glendower; Sean McNall, as both the fun-loving troublemaker Points and the aristocratic Douglas; and Lee Stark, as Hotspur's strong-minded wife. Zimmerman's set is lit with fluidity and invention by Michael Chybowski, who, using a limited color palette and a variety of sharp angles, creates a multitude of locations. Whitney Locher's costumes are a stylish blend of contemporary and medieval styles, blended into a seamless whole and studded with eye-catching details. Peter John Still's sound design is especially effective when evoking the drums that prefigure the onset of war. Thanks to canny direction and a capable cast, a play that can sometimes come across as a disjointed collection of scenes and tones is seen as a thoroughly unified tale, in which personal and political conflicts commingle to shape the fate of a nation. This is more than a solid reading of a great play; it is uncommonly lucid.--David Barbour 
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