When I was in ninth grade, the local university theater department put on a production of King Lear. Since we had read Julius Caesar and Romeo and Juliet in class, my friends and I felt that we had a pretty good grasp of this whole Shakepearian tragedy thing, so we went to see it.
Reader, we did not have a grasp on this whole Shakespearian tragedy thing. We were not prepared for a play where all but three of the characters die, usually in miserable agony after seeing all their hopes dashed to pieces. We were also unaware that Shakespeare productions could be set anytime and anywhere, and therefore quite startled by the inclusion of Vietnam War footage, which I’m pretty sure was meant as a commentary on the Iraq War (this was 2004), and also some of the characters wore modern war gear (Cordelia had a bandolier of grenades) but most of them were in medieval garb.
Possibly we would have appreciated this mash-up more if we were not already traumatized by (a) the play and (b) the wide spectrum of acting talent (Cordelia was good; the King of France was a block of wood). But as it was, we felt that the staging and costume choices were incoherent. And there is something singularly irritating about having your heart crushed by a production that wasn’t even any good, dammit!
Anyway, now that a couple of decades have passed, I felt ready to tackle another King Lear, especially since the National Theater production stars Ian McKellen as the king. Is anyone ever truly ready for King Lear? Well… at least this time I knew what I was getting into.
In contrast to many of the other National Theater productions I’ve seen, this one had mostly very simple staging: there’s a large round circle of carpet on the stage, and some furniture gets moved on and off. There are a couple of fancier bits, like a mirror carefully slanted so as to double the number of King Lear’s riotous frat boy knights at the table, but mostly it’s straightforward.
(I’ve decided that the best way to approach the National Theater’s costuming decisions is to assume that they’re following the Elizabethan practice of putting the characters in sumptuous contemporary clothes even though the play is in fact taking place in, say, mythological prehistoric Britain that also seems surprisingly similar to the England of the Wars of the Roses.)
After his abdication, King Lear intends to travel between his two eldest daughters’ castles with his entourage of one hundred riotous frat boy knights, which I must confess gives me some sympathy for Goneril and Regan’s lack of enthusiasm for hosting him. All the same, it’s so sad when they start insisting that he lower his entourage, and King Lear tears up as he realizes that his daughters whose love he had depended on don’t love him after all - just so tragic to see an old man cry.
Fantastic performances all around. Goneril and Regan were particularly excellent. Claire Price plays Goneril as an icily put-together politician in a sort of Margaret Thatcher mold, while Kirsty Bushell’s Regan is childish in a pouting, sexy, “Santa Baby” sort of way.
Both sisters fall hard for Gloucester’s bastard son Edmund (James Corrigan), the only character in this play who seems to be having a great time. He’s evil and he’s embracing it! Living his best worst life!
But nonetheless he has a couple of moments that hint at humanity and vulnerability. My favorite was the bit right after he frames his legitimate brother Edgar for treason and drives him from the castle. Edmund cuts his own hand and presses his bleeding palm to his side to make it look like he was wounded fighting Edgar, then shouts for his father Gloucester to announce that Edgar has fled. As Edmund writhes on the floor in apparent agony, Gloucester laments the defection of his legitimate son, until an exasperated Edmund announces, “I’m bleeding!”
And even that doesn’t get Gloucester’s attention! Can you really blame Edmund for leaving Gloucester to be blinded by Regan and her husband?
(Gloucester is another one of Shakespeare’s interestingly flawed characters: clearly the worst dad, but genuinely compassionate toward Lear in his suffering, which is the reason that he’s blinded.)
(Also, important How to Be a Better Dictator note: if you are going to gouge out your enemy’s eyes, don’t release him to wander the land afterward, because everyone who sees him will be stirred to opposition toward your cause.)
And I also loved Kent, Lear’s loyal courtier, cross-cast as Sinead Cusack. When she objects to Lear banishing his one loving daughter Cordelia, Lear banishes Kent too. But the loyal Kent disguises herself as a man and rejoins Lear as the bluff and hearty Caius, a hale fellow of low rank but a loyal heart. When Lear’s other retainers abandon him, Caius sticks by Lear’s side as Lear wanders mad on the moors. An excellent performance and an argument in favor of more trouser roles for middle-aged women. What could be more Shakespearian?
“Is this the promised end?” cries Kent, as Lear clutches the body of the dead Cordelia. Apparently the classic Lear story ends happily (more or less) with Cordelia mowing down her disloyal sisters and then reuniting with her loving father Lear, so the Elizabethan audience must indeed have felt this was not the promised end. Here, only three people are left alive: Edgar, Goneril’s husband (who turned against Goneril in the end), and Kent, who has not long to live.
The first time I saw King Lear, I thought Kent was going to die of a broken heart. (Who could blame him!) In this production, Kent purposefully takes up a gun as she announces she must follow her master. If her broken heart won’t kill her, Kent will deliver Kent from bondage on this bitch of an earth.
***
And thus ends my National Theater subscription! Although inevitably one ends with a few plays unwatched, I feel that overall I’ve put it to good use. And![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
littlerhymes reminded me that one can rent a play on the National Theater streaming service without having to get an entire subscription, so if I decide I really HAVE to watch Romeo and Juliet, that’s an option.
Reader, we did not have a grasp on this whole Shakespearian tragedy thing. We were not prepared for a play where all but three of the characters die, usually in miserable agony after seeing all their hopes dashed to pieces. We were also unaware that Shakespeare productions could be set anytime and anywhere, and therefore quite startled by the inclusion of Vietnam War footage, which I’m pretty sure was meant as a commentary on the Iraq War (this was 2004), and also some of the characters wore modern war gear (Cordelia had a bandolier of grenades) but most of them were in medieval garb.
Possibly we would have appreciated this mash-up more if we were not already traumatized by (a) the play and (b) the wide spectrum of acting talent (Cordelia was good; the King of France was a block of wood). But as it was, we felt that the staging and costume choices were incoherent. And there is something singularly irritating about having your heart crushed by a production that wasn’t even any good, dammit!
Anyway, now that a couple of decades have passed, I felt ready to tackle another King Lear, especially since the National Theater production stars Ian McKellen as the king. Is anyone ever truly ready for King Lear? Well… at least this time I knew what I was getting into.
In contrast to many of the other National Theater productions I’ve seen, this one had mostly very simple staging: there’s a large round circle of carpet on the stage, and some furniture gets moved on and off. There are a couple of fancier bits, like a mirror carefully slanted so as to double the number of King Lear’s riotous frat boy knights at the table, but mostly it’s straightforward.
(I’ve decided that the best way to approach the National Theater’s costuming decisions is to assume that they’re following the Elizabethan practice of putting the characters in sumptuous contemporary clothes even though the play is in fact taking place in, say, mythological prehistoric Britain that also seems surprisingly similar to the England of the Wars of the Roses.)
After his abdication, King Lear intends to travel between his two eldest daughters’ castles with his entourage of one hundred riotous frat boy knights, which I must confess gives me some sympathy for Goneril and Regan’s lack of enthusiasm for hosting him. All the same, it’s so sad when they start insisting that he lower his entourage, and King Lear tears up as he realizes that his daughters whose love he had depended on don’t love him after all - just so tragic to see an old man cry.
Fantastic performances all around. Goneril and Regan were particularly excellent. Claire Price plays Goneril as an icily put-together politician in a sort of Margaret Thatcher mold, while Kirsty Bushell’s Regan is childish in a pouting, sexy, “Santa Baby” sort of way.
Both sisters fall hard for Gloucester’s bastard son Edmund (James Corrigan), the only character in this play who seems to be having a great time. He’s evil and he’s embracing it! Living his best worst life!
But nonetheless he has a couple of moments that hint at humanity and vulnerability. My favorite was the bit right after he frames his legitimate brother Edgar for treason and drives him from the castle. Edmund cuts his own hand and presses his bleeding palm to his side to make it look like he was wounded fighting Edgar, then shouts for his father Gloucester to announce that Edgar has fled. As Edmund writhes on the floor in apparent agony, Gloucester laments the defection of his legitimate son, until an exasperated Edmund announces, “I’m bleeding!”
And even that doesn’t get Gloucester’s attention! Can you really blame Edmund for leaving Gloucester to be blinded by Regan and her husband?
(Gloucester is another one of Shakespeare’s interestingly flawed characters: clearly the worst dad, but genuinely compassionate toward Lear in his suffering, which is the reason that he’s blinded.)
(Also, important How to Be a Better Dictator note: if you are going to gouge out your enemy’s eyes, don’t release him to wander the land afterward, because everyone who sees him will be stirred to opposition toward your cause.)
And I also loved Kent, Lear’s loyal courtier, cross-cast as Sinead Cusack. When she objects to Lear banishing his one loving daughter Cordelia, Lear banishes Kent too. But the loyal Kent disguises herself as a man and rejoins Lear as the bluff and hearty Caius, a hale fellow of low rank but a loyal heart. When Lear’s other retainers abandon him, Caius sticks by Lear’s side as Lear wanders mad on the moors. An excellent performance and an argument in favor of more trouser roles for middle-aged women. What could be more Shakespearian?
“Is this the promised end?” cries Kent, as Lear clutches the body of the dead Cordelia. Apparently the classic Lear story ends happily (more or less) with Cordelia mowing down her disloyal sisters and then reuniting with her loving father Lear, so the Elizabethan audience must indeed have felt this was not the promised end. Here, only three people are left alive: Edgar, Goneril’s husband (who turned against Goneril in the end), and Kent, who has not long to live.
The first time I saw King Lear, I thought Kent was going to die of a broken heart. (Who could blame him!) In this production, Kent purposefully takes up a gun as she announces she must follow her master. If her broken heart won’t kill her, Kent will deliver Kent from bondage on this bitch of an earth.
***
And thus ends my National Theater subscription! Although inevitably one ends with a few plays unwatched, I feel that overall I’ve put it to good use. And
littlerhymes reminded me that one can rent a play on the National Theater streaming service without having to get an entire subscription, so if I decide I really HAVE to watch Romeo and Juliet, that’s an option.
