My Views on The King 2019. The Wayward Prince: A Journey of Redemption and Burden in Henry V

The transformation of Prince Hal in Henry V is more than a historical tale of kingship—it is a mirror reflecting the universal struggle to overcome inherited burdens, confront self-doubt, and find redemption through purpose. Hal’s journey, laden with grief, responsibility, and the weight of legacy, resonates because it forces us to ask: How do we define ourselves in the shadow of those who came before us? Are we strong enough to rise above the pain of our past and chart a new path forward?

Hal’s story begins in estrangement—estranged from his father, his destiny, and even himself. Dismissed as a frivolous, wayward prince, Hal appears to embody the very failures his father, King Henry IV, fears most. Yet beneath this surface lies a profound tension: Hal does not reject the crown out of apathy, but because he understands its immense cost. His father’s betrayal of Richard II casts a long shadow, leaving Hal to wrestle with the moral compromises of kingship. The crown, for Hal, is not a symbol of power but a burden of reconciliation—between justice and ambition, past and present, father and son.

This tension reaches its breaking point with the death of his brother, Thomas. While Hal has seen the brutality of war and seeks to avoid it, Thomas charges headlong into battle, driven by idealized visions of heroism. When Thomas falls, Hal is thrust into reluctant kingship. The act of killing Harry Percy becomes not a triumph but a sorrowful necessity, marking the end of Hal’s resistance to his role. This moment echoes in all our lives: How often are we forced to confront responsibilities we feel unprepared for, only to realize that growth comes not from readiness but from resolve?

Falstaff, Hal’s flawed yet insightful companion, embodies the emotional and moral conflicts at the heart of Hal’s journey. In his warning about the toll of war, Falstaff becomes both a mentor and a mirror:

“For all our rejoice of courage and valor, nothing stains the soul more indelibly than killing. Never have I felt so vile than standing victorious on a battlefield. The thrill of victory fades quickly. What lingers long after is always ugly.”

Here, Falstaff speaks to a universal truth about leadership and life: the path to purpose is often littered with sacrifices that test our values and humanity. For Hal, this moment underscores that true leadership lies not in glory but in the willingness to shoulder burdens for the greater good.

The war with France becomes the crucible of Hal’s transformation. The Dauphin’s insult—a mocking gift of tennis balls—forces Hal to confront his lingering self-doubt and claim his place as a ruler. Yet this act of war is not born of unchecked ambition but a desire to redefine himself and his legacy. France, both enemy and proving ground, symbolizes the external challenges we must face to reconcile our internal conflicts. For Hal, it is a chance to step out of his father’s shadow and prove that leadership can be rooted in integrity rather than betrayal.

This idea of reckoning comes full circle in Hal’s final moments with his dying father. Their confrontation is fraught with grief, anger, and yearning:

HAL: Speak! Do you feel this cold? HENRY IV: (barely audible) You must be king, my son. Please. I love you.

In this moment, we see the raw humanity behind the crown. Hal’s journey is not one of simple redemption but of painful self-discovery. His father’s regret—“I know not what I have done”—mirrors Hal’s own fear: that leadership is an endless cycle of mistakes and burdens passed from one generation to the next. And yet, Hal’s final command to his court—“Look at me”—reveals his quiet transformation. He does not demand reverence but acknowledgment of his scars, his growth, and the man he has become.

Hal’s journey is ours. We all carry the weight of past failures—our own and those of others. We all face moments when the path forward feels insurmountable. But as Hal’s story shows, redemption is not found in erasing these scars but in embracing them. To lead, to live, is to accept the burdens we cannot change and transform them into something greater.

In the end, Hal teaches us that self-discovery is not about erasing the past but rising above it. His story reminds us that the burdens we inherit and the pain we endure are not barriers to purpose—they are the foundation of it.