THEATER REVIEW : A ‘Henry IV’ That’s Long on the Gusto : Goodman Radiates Spirit of Falstaff at Old Globe

Samuel Johnson noted that Shakespeare wrote “Henry IV” in two parts “only because they are too long to be one.” In celebration of its 60th anniversary, the Old Globe Theatre has conjoined Parts I and II--beautifully, thanks to dramaturg Dakin Matthews--and cast John Goodman as Falstaff, that robust liar and lover of life, and the soul and heart of the story.

The play of course is actually about Falstaff’s friend, the prodigal son Prince Hal. Much to King Henry’s despair, the prince spends his wastrel days in a low tavern, hanging with a fairly harmless bunch of rowdy, drunken thieves, presided over by the hugely entertaining and immensely cowardly Falstaff. Falstaff furnishes the prince’s education of the common world, before his ascension to majesty.

Hal sobers up pretty quickly when his father becomes ill and is simultaneously threatened with a rebellion led by Hotspur. To become defender of father and country, Hal must leave behind all things dissolute, cowardly, bawdy, and spontaneously funny, and he must reject these things with a steely definitiveness. Otherwise, he cannot become the great warrior king, Henry V.

Prince Hal may be able to cut off Falstaff without a backward look, but Shakespeare knows the value of all that Falstaff represents. And so does Falstaff. “Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world,” he says, in his own behalf. And indeed all of the warmth of the world is there in Falstaff for any actor with enough gusto to radiate it. John Goodman radiates it.

Under the direction of Jack O’Brien, the glow starts as an ember. Goodman enters wearing a baseball cap, a House of Blues T-shirt and gulping from a can of beer. At times sounding as sarcastic and contemporary as his character on Roseanne, Goodman absolutely grasps the universal in the role. His Falstaff grows in stature even as he remains immensely funny.

Goodman acquires, over time, a white beard and eyebrows, a curly wig, a red cap with a dapper feather, a red cape and a red nose, looking, finally, like a Holbein painting. He radiates an amber glow of drunkenness, good humor and pleasure, and an utter inability to be shamed no matter how shameless a lie he has been caught in. It is impossible to shame Falstaff because he is completely shameless.

The other actors also begin in rehearsal clothes and make their way, in fits and starts, into approximations of Elizabethan garb. It’s as if we are witnessing a very good rehearsal that metamorphoses into a full production before our eyes.

This device (also used by Louis Malle in the film “Vanya on 42nd Street”) works as a kind of elevator to take us deeper and deeper into the play. It is played out on a simple set of scaffolding and detachable stairs, allowing a second tier from which characters can gaze down upon the main action.

This works especially well when the King (played by the always excellent Richard Easton), in modern dress but completely in character, smokes nonchalantly while looking icily down as Hal and Falstaff take turns imitating him.

The world of the court is not quite as vibrant as that of the tavern. In his debased days, David Lansbury’s Hal has a scowling brow. He has a nice hint of self-hatred, and yet there’s also something wanting in his performance. He is as joyless while a dissolute as he is while a king. As Hal’s rival, Hotspur, Mark Harelik overdoes it, taking too literally a character’s view of him as “a hare-brain’d Hotspur, govern’d by a spleen.” His is a hyperventilating sputtering warrior, too unsubtle to have any charm. He seems in need of sedation, rather than heroically if foolishly hotblooded.

The battle scene is stirring, set against the trees of San Diego’s Balboa Park, which the open stage reveals. But given the presence of Goodman, it’s not surprising that the production’s most memorable scene--and it’s perfect, really--is a comic one, and a fairly quiet, reactive one at that. Falstaff is forced to listen to the prattling of the ancient, lisping Justice Shallow (the hilarious Jonathan McMurtry) while waiting for a tray of drinks that takes forever in coming. Shallow seems to be able to speak only of old age and death. There is Falstaff, stuck, but valiantly persevering in his hope for the bottle.

Falstaff, the great philosopher of hedonism and practicality, declares that he is not only witty in himself, “but the cause that wit is in other men.” In other words, he is a force of life. In O’Brien’s production, John Goodman proves definitively that his is a force too large to be contained, in its entirety, on the small screen. Go see him on the big stage.

* “Henry IV, Parts 1 & 2,” Old Globe Theatre, Lowell Davies Festival Theatre, San Diego, Tue.-Sun., 7:30 p.m. Ends Aug. 5. $20-$36. (619) 239-2255. Running time: 4 hours.

Richard Easton King Henry IV David Lansbury Henry, Prince of Wales Michael Brandt John of Lancaster Henry J. Jordan Chief Justice Warwick James R. Winker Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Percy Vaughn Armstrong Earl of Westmoreland Dakin Matthews Earl of Northumberland, Owen Glendower Katherine McGrath Lady Northumberland, Mistress Quickly Mark Harelik Henry Percy Erika Rolfsrud Lady Percy James Joseph O’Neil Sir Richard Vernon Russell Edge Edmund Mortimer Melissa Friedman Lady Mortimer John Worley Lord Hastings David Natale Archbishop of York, Silence Leonard Stewart Earl of Douglas Jonathan McMurtry Justice Shallow, Nym Eric Almquist Davy John Goodman Sir John Falstaff Steve Rankin Poins Don Sparks Pistol Christopher Whenry Bardolph Mark Hill Francis Anna Cody Doll Tearsheet With: Crystal Allen, Tracey Atkins, Scott Eberlein, Scott Ferrera, Paul Fitzgerald, Andee Mason, Lina Patel, David Prentiss, Henny Russell.

An Old Globe Theatre production. By William Shakespeare. Directed by Jack O’Brien. Adapted by Dakin Matthews. Sets by Ralph Funicello. Costumes by Lewis Brown. Lights by Michael Gilliam. Composer Larry Delinger. Sound by Jeff Ladman. Fight choreographer Dan Speaker. Dialect coach Claudia Hill. Stage manager Peter Van Dyke.