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King Lear
By Eugene Paul
If you can ‘t get enough of Glenda Jackson, this is for you. Perhaps the most generous and rewarding moment in all
of the current production of King Lear occurred
at the giddily enthusiastic curtain call when a gracious
Glenda Jackson gave an additional solo bow from her company to lovely Therese
Barbato, the understudy who performed as both Cordelia,
Lear’s youngest daughter, and Fool, Lear’s faithful jester who followed him in
his madness. Jackson, extraordinary in her sheer capacities to
project this ugly, stupid, petulant Lear, is awesome in her clarity and
vigor. But such a Lear for more than three hours is not a consummation devoutly
to be wished. It’s enough to bring back the Nahum Tate version which sated
audiences for 150 years with its happy ending. Surely the lugubrious sight
of a hanged Cordelia dropping from Miriam Beuther’s blasted gold setting
cannot be construed as other than smartass. Alas, smartass does not meld well with the integrity
that is Glenda Jackson. In fact, the heavy majority of this
production does not meld well, but then, it’s Shakespeare’s most
overwrought, most overthunk, most over fiddled play, praised to the skies, uneasily,
for its plethora of ravishing passages, the main reason for the frequency of
Lear productions. Certainly, it’s not for the lucidity and cogency of its
plot. Or the handling of it by the Great Bard. Or the handling of the whole
shebang by director Sam Gold. In fact, there’s an inescapable aura of “Novelty
Production” about this entire affair, which makes sense were the capricious,
audacious novelty of Glenda Jackson as King Lear the sole feature of
an assured, classic production surrounding her, but director Gold has
chosen to increase the novelty factor. It’s a director thing.
Not that there’s a lot of novelty in presenting the play in modern
dress, and doyenne costume designer Ann Roth does her wisest. Not
that set designer Miriam Beuther provides a gold setting, walls, benches,
proscenium, hard curtain. ( I betcha there has never been such aural
splendor in any other Lear production). It’s the other directorial choices that
nip at you: such tall daughters, Goneril (Elizabeth Marvel) and
Regan (Aisling O’Sullivan) looming over their little old dad, King
Lear. At least, Cordelia (Therese Barbato) is closer to his elfin
height. The whole court is awaiting the arrival of the king. In
a golden corner a string ensemble plays Philip Glass. We’re kind of awaiting
the king, too, after all, it’s Glenda Jackson. In comes a
little old man. But where’s -- my gawd, it IS Glenda
Jackson. The little old man is retiring from his kingship. He’s
going to give his daughters his kingdom. He’s divided it in three
pieces: the best portion is probably going to his favorite, his youngest
daughter, Cordelia, but he insists that his daughters declare how much they
love him, cherish him, admire him before he makes the great division, Lear
speaking his speeches trippingly. The others just trip. In a variety
of accents.
Photo by Brigitte Lacombe When Cordelia does not fawn over him the way her two older
sisters knock themselves out doing, screaming in embarrassing rage,
Lear cuts Cordelia off from him entirely, divides her portion between his
smirking other daughters and disposes of Cordelia by instantly marrying her off
sans dowry to whoever will have her. Which happens to be the King of
France (Ian Lassiter). Not too shabby. We are more or less following the Shakespearean text, absurdities
already manifest, general prunings already under weigh to reduce five acts into
two. Director Gold presents the Duke of Cornwall, Regan’s husband
(kilted Russell Harvard) as a deaf mute, his aide (Michael
Arden) using sign language to him and to Regan to convey what is going
on.. No problem handling Shakespearean lines. Clever novelty there. Far from
clever novelty having Jayne Houdyshell perform as the Earl of
Gloucester. Aside from what’s the point, she simply cannot comport
her generous feminine self in his generous masculine complexities,
of which he has many, among them, disowning his legitimate son, Edgar (hard
striving Sean Carvajal) , hoodwinked by his villainously ruthless bastard son,
Edumund (excellent Pedro Pascal). Shakespeare compounding miseries.
Photo by Brigitte Lacombe
* King Lear. At the Cort Theatre, 138 West 48th Street. Tickets: $35-$159. 212-239-6200. 3hrs,30 min. Thru July 7. * |
