Sunday, January 26, 2014

209. Review of KING LEAR (January 24, 2014)

209. KING LEAR
 
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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.
 
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Catherine McCormack and Max Bennett. Photo: Johanna Persson.
 
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.
 
 
Sebastian Armesto. Photo: Johanna :Persson.

            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.
 
 
Max Bennett. Photo: Johanna Persson.

            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.