Shakespeare's "Henry IV" is a unique work of art--a play never approached in the scope of its form or the range of its emotional appeal. Containing within its tremendous outlines some of the finest comedy in the English language, intensely dramatic historical tragedy, and the height of color and pageantry in words and ideas, the play presents to any group attempting it a rich and complex opportunity.

The Theatre Workshop met the challenge last night with what is probably among the most ambitious productions over attempted in Harvard College. Technical aspects aside, the Workshop presented a cast with an almost unbelievable number of competent-or-better actors, who turned what otherwise could have been a colossal shambles into an exciting and, more than anything else, entertaining drama.

Central figure in the evening's work was Jerry Kilty, who brought to the role of Falstaff an outstanding comic talent combined with obvious understanding of the multi-faceted role and all its problems. As any Falstaff must, he carried the play on his shoulders: when he was on stage, the production moved out of the limits of Sanders and its audience and into the universal comic meaning of the part. He brought entertainment, and, too, originality and finesse to such speeches as "Banish Jack.." and "Honour ..."

Behind Kilty were a number of players who one felt could fulfill the requirements of their roles in any production. Thayer David as the King was impressive in voice and appearance both, adding stylized bits to his interpretation particularly effectively. Charles Sedgwick, in the part of Worcester, was perfect, his modulated voice giving the role its necessary malevolence.

Bob Fletcher turned in an amazing job with a neat triple; his Westmoreland and Vernon were smooth and competent, his Francais superbly inventive in its preliminary pantomime as well as in vocal effects. In the long and generally non-rewarding part of Prince Hal, Bryant Halliday was more than adequate. His voice and diction were fine, as was his stage presence, but the interpretation of the part seemed at times almost off-hand.

As the figure who must carry the tragic implications of the play, Mendy Weisgal put an evening of intense effort into the part of Hotspur but gave at best an uneven performance. Weisgal's gestures were artificial, he threw away many of his lines--and much of the motivation of the plot, for those who didn't know it--and added touches of external heightening in places where they destroyed the illusion of the performance. But in certain scenes--the early letter scene, for example--he rose to a distinctly superior level.

Direction and settings, by Albert Marre and John Holabird, were outstanding. Other technical points, including music, lighting, and costumes, were also excellent, with the exception of certain first-night mishaps.

The real heart of the play's appeal remained in the part of Falstaff, perhaps to the detriment of the remainder. Two of the plotters' scenes were almost cast to the winds by rushing and sloppiness, and the historical sections in general did not hang together perfectly. What makes the production worth anyone's trip to Sanders is its entertainment, its solid and complex appeal as done by the H.T.W.