Henry V is -- well not pure jingoism, as nothing Shakespeare ever does is pure and simple -- cynics, nay sayers and no-shows have their turns  -- it's got a touch of the Wilfred Owen among the Rupert Brookery -- but full on aggressive patriotism, with everyone in the play telling us how marvellous Henry V is -- and of course he is marvellous, like James Bond with heavier responsibilities.  His enemy is a sneery  Dauphin (Edward Akrout, an English bloke's nightmare of a handsome, French dude advertising perfume).  The Dauphin and his henchmen are arrogant sods whose horses wear dressy armour -- that concertinaed neck protector on the Dauphin's horse looked amazing.  The English stand stoically covered in mud.  If there any image of Frenchman vs Englishman that has staying power with the English, this one is it, the flashy smoothy vs the dogged rough substance. Like James Bond Henry gets the girl, who is delightful and French to boot (Melanie Thierry -- utterly charming, whether giggly or serious).  When in the final wooing scene Henry adds to his other virtues a GSOH and amusing self-deprecation and the beautiful young Prince and Princess kiss each other, it's the end of a fairy tale, but they do not of course live happily ever after   Henry dies, and England bleeds.   The Chorus in the play tells us so, this production showed us, that glory existed but was cut short. Sadly I do and didn't even have to look it up: horse