Laurence Olivier's 1944 film version of Henry V is remarkable for many reasons. First among them is the framing device of beginning at the Globe, with a performance in front of an unruly crowd. Then, following the Chorus' exhortations to use imagination to "piece out" the story, the film becomes astonishingly panoramic, particularly in the Agincourt scenes, and just when the sheer size of the spectacle has made the viewer forget the opening, it returns to the "wooden O" for the conclusion. Like Shakespeare's plays, it is best consumed whole, not piecemeal (I think it was Samuel Johnson who said that those who try to convert people to Shakespeare by quoting passages are doing no better than someone who would try to sell a house by pulling out a piece of its brick from their pocket. There's some truth in that, but I would have to admit that I'd certainly be one of the targets of the comment), and, if at all possible, on a big screen.

I'll be writing more about this version, and Branagh's, later this week.