Featured Image: KING LEAR. Credit: Johan Persson/
According to the preshow interviews Ian McKellen wanted “another crack at Lear” and so he did. This production directed by Jonathan Munby and originating at the 300 seat Chichester Festival Theatre, transferred to the West end with considerable physical change to the theatre to preserve the production’s intimacy.
National Theatre Live‘s KING LEAR has been masterfully captured in all its detail and immediacy with an authoritative cinematic eye toward the characters and relationships of the piece. There’s an enrichment in the shot selection of this historic record of one of the great performers in the grand role. From the “loosen this button” to the later flaccidity of the fool’s coxcomb to Reagan’s French manicure, the film has the closeness of the front row.
This much lauded production takes to heart and heaven “the stars above us”. Driven by Lear, the court and army both will raise a Shaker-like hand aloft at the mention of gods, modern and ancient, to accent the spiritual and astrological. However the setting and costumes are contemporary and the production begins in an excess of grandeur with red regal sashes, red Mess Dress, the Union Jack and the crowned lion of the Royal Coat of arms.
As Lear scissors his kingdom, without actually being comic McKellen brings an endearing silliness to the ego stroking. His is a paternal ownership, and an Irish joke indicative of whom he loves most, he accepts the adulation and the camera focusses attention on the faces of he and people like Kent who fear for him. The build of tension in the room is evident on the faces and in the background fidgeting.
There’s a physicality that helms this production and it begins as Lear breathes raggedly at Cordelia’s betrayal. There’s a wheeze and a cry in his face. McKellen may refer to his own “awareness of decrepitude ” but the actor can fall, kneel, stand from lying unaided and give a towering performance which relies to no small extent on physical transformation across the scope of the play. For “crack your cheeks” he has a leaning posture, almost in defence of the wind and his madness is in his chest and jaw and sprawled legs.
His new speech of old words is also unutterably revelatory. In execution, the well-known 400 year old text rings with new meaning. “More sinned against” is heartbreakingly slow and self-serving. Plus he knows where a comic line can fall with considerable effect and no detriment to atmosphere.
Around the aging king are some equally stellar performances. Sinéad Cusack is the, now Duchess, of Kent and her compassion and duty to Lear are grounding, warm and slightly cynical. Anita-Joy Uwajeh brings a Cordelia who grows into her maturity as warrior. The relationship between the other two sisters is brilliantly wrought. Often these two are treated as similar in their rapacious uncaringness.
Here they could not be more different. Regan (Kirsty Bushell) is feral and sexy and flighty and the torture of Gloucester is just a game. Goneril (Claire Price) however, is flinty and knowing, in charge and unwavering with her marital realities abundantly clear. The sisters’ relationship is nuanced in the extreme with looks and hand holds and kisses that are captured with characterful purpose. Played by James Corrigan with fierce and deceptive direct speech to the audience Edmund appears first in all black, unhonoured. His work and that of Luke Thompson as Edgar stand directly opposed as symbolic dualities of power and powerlessness.
The costuming is militarily smart and warlike practical is places. The classic, classy, sensible shoes of Goneril and the tottery, thin heels of Reagan are mere indications of the replete nature of the wardrobe. The setting bears its meaning well with the Royal Crimson giving way to the floor messed and eventually to the chalk of Dover curved behind. A mirror expands the tweedy dinner scene, rain actually falls and the camo net descends for strategic meetings in secret places.
The lost and homeless are forged with lighted trash cans and modern electronica. The storm is made with amber flash in a light steely blue wash. The creepy carcasses hang in curse. And an electric drum beats and throbs louder as the show crashes violently toward interval.
Like any full KING LEAR this is long watch. 220 minutes with a 20 minute interval but it doesn’t seem so to the audience who stay after interval. With a subtle and restrained use of camera techniques, one is thoroughly caught up in the personal tragedy and yet attuned to the underlying greed rampant, humanity forgone. And as required by a good Lear, the geo-political undertones.
Not only is this NT Live film a statement of historical interest given the aging of the key cast but it stands alone as an enthralling witness to the themes. Indescribably passionate it speaks to current concerns around the treatment of the mentally ill, what human morality loses in the quest for political and personal supremacy. It also speaks intimately of faith and familial ties and the power of friendship and duty.
A remarkable document NT Live’s KING LEAR via Sharmill Films [Facebook] will open nationally on November 3 and you can see the trailer here.
