Benedict Nightingale at the Courtyard, Stratford
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Better late than never. In Stratford, much better late than never. Almost two months after Frances Barber fell off her bike, damaging her leg too badly to play Goneril at the appointed time, yesterday saw the official opening of the Royal Shakespeare Company’s big revival of King Lear and, most importantly, allowed Ian McKellen to bring depth, openness and emotional, spiritual and, at times, literal nakedness to the title role he has waited all his life to play.
Trevor Nunn’s production opens with a splendid parade of courtiers in costumes that are mostly modern Ruritanian, at their centre a Lear dressed and crowned like some glittering Orthodox archbishop. But the royal pomp is instantly replaced with a display of royal weakness: a wobbly reading of his decision to abdicate, a half-jokey, half-serious invitation to play love-games, then fulminations and tantrums and invocations of the pagan gods that leave everyone prone and speechless.
There’s plenty of detail in what follows – a hint of the regret over Cordelia’s rejection that he’s already starting to feel when he quavers over his refusal to offer her his “benison” – but also a growing sense of the complexity of the humiliated, angry, vulnerable man who has always repressed the feelings that might tell him who he is. He says he won’t weep, and promptly does so. He seems incapable of love, yet the warmth he shows towards towards Sylvester McCoy’s wry, shrewd Fool always suggests otherwise. He’s haunted by the fear of madness, yet out of madness comes not only incoherent vengefulness, not only the doddering confusion that leaves him stripping to his skin, but a new-found care for others.
“Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts,” McKellen’s Lear cries as he imaginatively puts his daughters on trial. And it’s a big, anguished, eloquent message from his own heart that’s directed not only at Goneril and Regan but at a planet where, as he later declares from within some weird private world only he can see, hypocritical beadles lust after the whores they are lashing, judges steal and politicians lie.
Monica Dolan’s Regan is the neurotic, obviously dangerous sister, dancing with glee as William Gaunt’s kindly Gloucester is blinded, and Barber’s Goneril the subtler one: a woman whose attempts to be reasonable and loving come across as forced and smarmy and whose inner rage, once liberated, knows no bounds.
You can see why Lear’s knights, a crazed Cossack mob, upset her. You can also believe that, in Nunn’s main innovation, she can send her servants to give graphic truth to Lear’s much discussed line, “and my poor fool is hanged”. Here, it doesn't refer to Romola Garai’s sturdy Cordelia, but to McCoy himself, who is strung up on stage.
Behind him Christopher Oram’s set, the gracefully arced and draped dress circle of a traditional theatre, gradually collapses, like British civilisation itself. And so does McKellen, intoning “never” over Cordelia’s corpse like an old, muffled church bell: a hauntingly painful ending to one of his finest performances.
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I would just like to say that I disagree with the comment from Harry Davies, Stratford Upon Avon. I wish people would see the excellence of this performance. McKellen is amazing and anyone who did not enjoy his performance needs their head examining. I do wish that people like Harry Davies would see the brilliance of this performance.
Alasdair McKevin, Wandsworth, London. UK.,
During McKellan's Lear, as he descended into "madness", I was reminded of my own mother's slow descent into the nether world of Alzheimers. McKellan's performance for me was so real and well - studied that I was close to tears by the end.
A superb study of the tragedy of old age and physical and mental infirmity.
Mike Cawley, Heywood,
I agree strongly with Claudia McDowell, I am also studying A-level Theatre Studies and English Lit and have been to see many of the complete works and I found it great from all these perspectives too. Harry Davies' comments were more than just unhelpfull, they were downright wrong and I cannot believe anyone could fail to find the performance of Lear moving as a whole, not just an "Ian McKellan" show. I loved it;; the acting, the music, the set, it was all suberb. Anyone who critisises a performer for being too "technically" good is a fool in my opinion.
Boris Brown, Coventry,
I completely disagree with Harry Davies' patronising remarks. I thought the production was riveting and I can honestly say, hand on heart, that I truly felt for Mckellan's Lear. I am studying English Literature and Theatre Studies as two of my AS levels and from both perspectives I found the play to be inspiring.
Claudia McDowell, Lichfield, Staffordshire
I have to agree with Harry Davies. An astonishingly lazy production. Bewildering at times, but mostly simply tedious. The spoon-playing Fool was perhaps the worst piece of trickery. Though perhaps even the Fool was outdone by the patronising west-countryisms of Poor Tom. And as for the comment by Susan Rollins that this is the best Lear's in decades, I am flabberghasted. I can only say that Robert Stephens' captured the majesty, politics and humanity of the Lear far better than McKellen does, in a version that had none of the school play busyness of Nunn's production. There is something of the Emperor's New Clothes in all this praising.
Ben Jones, Copenhagen, Denmark
My wife and I also saw the RSC's new King Lear when Melanie Jessop was understudying Frances Barber as Goneril (and also in The Seagull). The production had settled in by then. It was/is a tribute to Melanie Jessop that her performance was the strongest of the 3 sisters. What a pity (Susan Rollins, above) that Frances Barber disappoints.
Julian Hopkins , St Albans, Herts, UK
Trevor Nunn's Lear is the best for decades; lucid, accessible, losing nothing of the truth and beauty at the centre of a storm of surreal nightmare of mind, body, family and state. Few were not moved to tears last night. McKellen avoided every histrionic pitfall of this most testing of roles, and transcended the mediocrity of much of his supporting cast. Frances Barber's camp, overblown performance was not a patch on the quiet malice of Melanie Jessup's Goneril. As a result, the play lost much of the foreboding seriousness of the first half palpable in pre-Barber performances. The essential goodness of Gloucester, Kent and Edgar was a beacon of hope in the darkness brilliantly maintained by the three superb actors who portrayed them; Gaunt as Gloucester with overtrusting naivete, but essential loyalty and courage; the other two with thrilling vigour and sincerity of heart. Nunn/McKellan have once again shown us the redemption through love Shakespeare finds at the heart of darkness
susan rollins, Reading, England
The Sir Ian Mckellen Show! A dated and unimaginative production from another dated and unimaginative director, the eagerly anticipated production is Shakespeare for the masses and by the looks of things for the 'dead white males' too. McKellen's Lear is acted with such technical ability that no real person can honestly hand on heart say they truly feel for the character. They can feel for Sir Ian Mckellen but not for King Lear. The RSC's attempt to make theatre more intimate with the Courtyard is quite arrogantly ignored by Nunn who leaves the 'up close and personal' parts of the stage unused. Perhaps Sir Trevor Nunn is afraid the audience will discover the rain that pours and the dogs that bark are not actually real. The production's Phantom of the opera characteristics will be a consolation to the tourists missing out on tickets for Andrew Lloyd Webber's real thing, having to settle for some 'Shakespeare' instead when Nunn's tedious failure of a production arrives in the West End.
Harry Davies, Stratford Upon Avon, UK