ould you like to take part in a livestreamed performance of a Shakespeare play?” An innocent enough request, and tempting in these monochrome, locked-down times. At first I think I am being offered a part in Henry IV Part I, a very good play I dimly remember from A-level. Perhaps I could play the fiery Hotspur. But I realise it is actually Henry VI Part I – early Shakespeare, co-written with others, and reckoned by some to be the Bard’s weakest number. Oh well, you have to start somewhere. In any case it is too late. The die is cast, and so am I. The enterprising director is Robert Myles, whose response to the lockdown has been to set about mounting the entire Shakespearean canon in chronological order, livestreaming a play a week on YouTube under the banner of The Show Must Go Online. He’d done two already – The Two Gentlemen of Verona and The Taming of the Shrew – but this was to be the first history. Whether it would make history was another matter. Why attempt this epic undertaking? “I lost a gig that was going to take me to the end of April,” Myles tells me, “and it soon became apparent the same thing was happening to every actor.” He decided to plug the gap. Rehearsals and the production are all done on Zoom. I suggest I should play the title role, but Myles points out Henry is only nine months old when he succeeds to the throne and this might be beyond even my acting skills. I get the part of the Duke of Burgundy instead. Burgundy doesn’t have many lines but he does play a pivotal role, since switching his allegiance from the English to the French is crucial in turning the tide in this phase of the Hundred Years War. My ego is satisfied. I also quickly come to realise that 40 lines spread across half-a-dozen scenes is about my limit. The play is largely impenetrable, with various English nobles vying for influence over the child king. “This one has been a beast!” Myles tells his 25-strong cast – mostly professionals but with the odd am-dram enthusiast too, playing more than 60 roles and Zooming in from all over the world. I decide not to worry about what the Dukes of Gloucester, Somerset and Bedford are up to, and concentrate on my role instead. Myles tells us at the outset that he is playing it straight and not sending it up (which I would be very tempted to do) but there will still be lots of opportunities for on screen business, with castle walls made out of cardboard, plenty of alarums, battles and funeral processions, some lurid “furies” putting in an appearance when Joan of Arc (who has galvanised the French forces) has a vision, and an array of silly hats. With Myles’s blessing, I decide to play Burgundy wearing a leather hat with ear muffs – the closest thing to a helmet I can find, even if it does make me look like an aviator. I also attempt an unusual reading of the role. The text portrays Burgundy as being converted to the French cause by Joan of Arc, but since she manages this in the space of two short speeches I find it implausible and decide he was looking for a pretext to switch sides. A brilliant reading, if based on nothing much more than a hunch. “Subtext doesn’t mix well with Shakespeare,” Myles tells me, “but I’m happy for you to do what you need to commit fully to a characterisation you can take ownership of. I think the clues that he’s ultimately self-serving are there in the text.” We are as one on the interpretation, though judging by the balls-up I make of the final rehearsal – making entrances when I should be making exits and vice versa – the subtleties of textual exegesis are probably the least of my worries. I am horribly nervous before the virtual curtain goes up and panic when my Zoom fails 20 minutes before we are due to go live. But producer Sarah Peachey restores my link and calms my nerves, and I settle in to follow the play on paper and speak my lines from chunks of on-screen text. At one point, trying to switch from paper to screen, I lose track of where we are, but just about find my place in time to speak my lines. What I can’t do is act (no surprise there), spending all my time making sure I’m using the mute button properly, appearing on screen when I’m supposed to, and delivering my lines. I am listening neither to myself nor to my fellow actors, and am in awe of those who manage to achieve so much locked in their bedrooms, with so little rehearsal time and in a tiny space on screen. There are some truly wonderful performances, though sadly mine is not among them. Myles and Peachey move on to Henry VI Part II next week, and have more than 30 plays ahead of them – they are clearly planning for a lengthy lockdown. They encourage me to consider applying for a role in a future production. I wonder if the world is ready for my Hamlet.