William Walton (1902–1983): Two Pieces for Strings from Henry V

The relationship between music and cinema has rarely yielded a more brilliant partnership than that of composer Sir William Walton and actor-director Sir Laurence Olivier. One of the great films to emerge during the Second World War was Laurence Olivier’s production of William Shakespeare’s Henry V. Filmed in Technicolor and conceived partly as an artistic morale booster for a nation engulfed in global conflict, the movie was a triumph of vision and execution. Its myriads of stars included Leslie Banks, Felix Aylmer, Robert Helpmann as well as Olivier in the title role.

The timing of the film's premiere carried immense historical and emotional weight for the Allied forces and the British public. Released just under six months after the Normandy Landings in June 1944, it struck the public imagination with a force that few cinematic projects have ever matched. The parallel between King Henry’s cross-channel invasion of France and the contemporaneous D-Day landings was unmistakable. The film was dedicated to ‘The Commandos and Airborne Troops of Great Britain – the spirit of whose ancestors it has been humbly attempted to recapture in some of the ensuing scenes...’ Naturally, many other men and women from many countries were involved in that decisive campaign.

To match the epic scale and deep emotional resonance of the narrative, Olivier turned to the foremost British composer of the era. William Walton composed the score for the film during 1943-44; the soundtrack was performed by the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Muir Mathieson. Walton’s music proved to be much more than a mere background accompaniment; it was an integral narrative voice that captured both the heraldic splendour of Agincourt and the intimate human tragedies of war.

Recognizing the enduring artistic value of the score outside the cinema, musicians quickly sought to bring Walton's creation to the live stage. In the years following the film’s release, several arrangements of the music were made for use in the concert hall. Suites were extracted by Malcolm Sargent (under Walton’s aegis) in 1945, Muir Mathieson (1963) and Christopher Palmer (1990). Among the most enduring fragments of this monumental score are the two quiet interludes written for the film's more reflective moments. The Two Pieces, The Death of Falstaff and Touch her soft lips and part, were included in these Suites, but were separately authorised for performance. They are scored for strings alone, offering a striking, intimate contrast to the brass-heavy, symphonic grandeur found elsewhere in the full cinematic score.

The first piece provides a poignant farewell to one of Shakespeare's most beloved comic creations, though its inclusion in the film required some dramatic license. Interestingly, Falstaff does not have a death-scene in Shakespeare’s original play: it was interpolated into the film by Olivier. This structural change allowed the film to bridge the transition from the old life of the young king to his grave new responsibilities. Falstaff, played by George Robey, was a ‘boon companion’ to Prince Hal, although he did receive some harsh words from the king. Walton captures the sorrow of this broken friendship with remarkable economy. The Death of Falstaff is in the form of a passacaglia (a recurrent theme in the bass with variations in the treble part). It is noble, dignified, and affectionate in its gentle and restrained exposition. The strict, repeating bass line anchors the music, mirroring the inevitability of death, while the upper strings weave a tender tapestry of grief.

The second movement shifts focus from the passing of an old friend to the painful separation of young lovers torn apart by duty. Touch her soft lips and part, is heard during the scene depicting the soldiers preparing to depart for Honfleur. It underscores the human cost of martial ambition, capturing a moment of quiet stillness before the storm of battle. Pistol, one of Henry’s old Eastcheap drinking partners, is saying his farewell to Mistress Quickly; the other troops are taking leave of their wives and sweethearts. Walton utilizes muted strings to evoke a sense of fragile intimacy and impending nostalgia. The music is tender and wistful in its perfectly stated romanticism, leaving an indelible impression of warmth and vulnerability that balances the historic pageantry of the grander tale.

Listen to English Chamber Orchestra conducted by Julian Lloyd Webber on YouTube, here. It is taken from Naxos 8.573250 (2015)

With thanks to the Programme Book of the 2017 English Music Festival where part of this essay was first published.