209.
KING LEAR
3
New
York and London have had their share of major and minor KING LEARS in the past
few years, and this season continues the practice. Since 2004 New York has seen
such leading players as Christopher Plummer, Ian McKellan, Kevin Kline, Sam
Waterston, Derek Jacobi, and the somewhat lesser known British actor Greg Hicks, play the mad old king. Now the 76-year-old Frank
Langella, the onetime romantic heartthrob who has morphed into one of America’s
most commanding stage and screen artists, is undertaking the role to wide acclaim at
the BAM’s Harvey Theatre, while Simon Russell Beale is playing Lear to perhaps even
more rapturous approval across the pond in Sam Mendes’s new production. For all
its positive features and critical kudos, however, Mr. Langella’s Lear breaks
no new ground and, like the production around it, is fine but not
extraordinary. We will soon enough have the Lear of another Shakespearean star, England's Michael Pennington, to compare it to when he brings it to Brooklyn's Theatre for a New Audience, just down the street from BAM. To paraphrase the Bard: "As flies to wanton boys are we to the stars. They Lear us for their sport!"
Frank Langella and Lauren O'Neil. Photo: Johanna Persson.
Angus Jackson’s production, which
premiered at England’s Chichester Theatre Festival, is solid and respectable, but uninspired. A number of lines have been cut, but while purists may grumble, the thee-hour production is insufficiently compelling to make you regret getting out 15 minutes earlier. It is given on a
neutral set designed by Robert Innes Hopkins (who’s also responsible for the
costumes); it incorporates a slightly raked thrust that protrudes from the
proscenium, and is backed by rows of Stonehenge-like pillars (some
reviewers refer to them as charred trees, but their square shapes have nothing
treelike about them) whose crude surfaces match those of the Harvey's famously
distressed walls. It’s the kind of set that permits
shafts of smoky light (designed by Peter Mumford) and other electronic
effects to pierce their interstices, as in so many Shakespearean revivals, with
the lighting replacing extensive set changes—apart from a minimal number of
furnishings, like a throne—to convey the essence of each locale. People stand
around, rarely sitting on anything but the floor, which has several levels
built into it, allowing the scenes to shift swiftly. The
map of England that Lear divides for his daughters is imprinted on the
wooden floor, although hard to see unless one sits somewhat higher up than
where I was. To prepare for the powerful storm scene, which showers real
water on the actors (I worried for Mr. Langella's health), sections of flooring are removed. This, and the
alteration of the pillars in the second act so that some lean forward,
implying that the world is now awry, are the only major
changes. Although it looks quite different, the production’s scenic neutrality
is not far removed from that used in the current revivals of TWELFTH NIGHT and
RICHARD III, which replicate the stage of an Elizabethan
theatre.
Mr.
Hopkins’s ho-hum period costumes are conventional mixes of earth-colored medieval and
modern elements, with the men in boots, tight pants, and tunics, and the women
in body-hugging gowns, Regan in maroon, Goneril in blue, and Cordelia in a
rather dowdy gray. The tragic atmosphere is heightened by Fergus O’Hare’s
creative sound design, with its use of battle sounds and thunder, and Isobel Waller-Bridge's original music.
Mr. Langella remains an imposing
presence and, despite his familiar actorish qualities, a generally convincing Lear, playing him as a powerful authoritarian, a man who suffers no fools (except, of course, his own Fool
[decently played by Harry Melling]), and is given to fits of potent outrage when
anyone crosses him. This provides plausibility to his foolish decision to disinherit
Cordelia (Isabella Laughland, bland) and give his kingdom to his evil daughters, Regan
(Lauren O’Neil) and Goneril (Catherine McCormack). Unfortunately, Mr. Langella’s
propensity for salvos of angry disappointment at Cordelia’s unwillingness to
compromise her integrity by out-flattering her sisters leads him to garble his
words, a fault that recurs whenever his spleen gets the better of him, as in the storm scene. His
depiction of Lear’s descent into disillusionment and madness is well charted;
act two of the nearly three-hour production, which shows Lear in a more
subdued, even sometimes playful mood, as his madness consumes him, is far more
touching because of the actor’s graceful combination of vulnerability,
and sincerity; his reconciliation with his abandoned
daughter brought tears to my eyes.
Harry Melling, Frank Langella, and Steven Pacey. Photo: Richard Termine.
As one might expect of a production
originating at a topflight British theatre, the ensemble is highly polished and
expert at speaking Shakespeare’s challenging dialogue, bringing out its lyricism,
intellectual heft, and emotional depth. The standout supporting performance belongs to the hunky Max Bennett as a chillingly charismatic Edmund, his hair
closely shorn, and his costume a formfitting ensemble of black jacket, tights,
and boots. His magnetism perfectly
captures the role’s sardonic evil with his several monologues delivered
directly to the audience; the way he dwells on his bastardy is a
highlight.
Steven Pacey and Harry Melling. Photo: Johanna :Persson.
Mr. Jackson’s direction is
straightforward and—apart from the deluge of the storm scene—ungimmicky. The
gouging of Gloucester’s eyes, always a chilling sequence, has Cornwall (Tim Treloar) tossing
eyeballs upstage where they go splat, and Tom O’Bedlam’s hovel is a hole in the
stage floor, but these choices are not especially problematic. One or two moments might be
questioned, though. Why, for example, does Mr. Langella play the scene over
Cordelia’s body, when he asks for a mirror to see if it catches her breath, by
miming the mirror instead of having someone hand him one? The request is
perfectly reasonable, and since Lear has moments of clarity during the scene it
doesn’t need to be played as if it were a madman’s fancy. And having Lear avoid
having to carry Cordelia’s corpse by dragging it in from the wings seems more a
concession to Ms. Laughland’s avoirdupois than to a choice based on artistic
necessity. Actors playing Lear have been known to insist on having petite
actresses play Lear just to avoid such awkward moments.
Frank Langella is an actor of such
physical and vocal presence that Lear is a role he had to tackle
before its physical demands grew too great for him. I don’t know if the
shuffling steps Lear occasionally uses are those of the actor or the
character, but I can vouch for Mr. Langella’s physical vigor in
playing such a demanding part and being as vital at the end as at the
beginning. This may not be a Lear for all seasons, but it’s good enough
for this wintry one. We'll have to wait for spring before we see if Mr. Pennington can bring it on.
