Not a fan of musicals

not a theatre critic either

A Lear too sprightly

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There is a fundamental problem with this production – Kenneth Branagh is, well, how shall I put it – too sprightly? Just the other day, I watched the 1993 film Much ado about nothing. I want to know how Branagh does it, but there is no way that the 30 years that have passed since its making had the same effect on him as they did on other mortals. So not only is Branagh in his early 60ies rather than the “fourscore and upward” of King Lear (which at the time it was written must have equated to awaiting your letter from the king on turning a hundred), he carries himself like a forty-something. Kudos to Branagh – but it throws the entire story. Why is this man, clearly in his prime, dividing his kingdom between his daughters? Why does he yearn for their declarations of love? It is not a frail old man facing his mortality and worried about his legacy that we see on stage, but a robust chieftain, holding court with strength and jest. With the wild skies projected above him, he is more Prospero, than Lear. This also undermines the notion of Lear going mad – I at least had always pictured the daughters’ betrayal as the last straw that broke the vulnerable King’s mind sending him into a form of dementia darkness. And I think of broken people as more haunting than possessed. Branagh’s madness simply has too much energy.

You might disagree with the interpretation, but regardless, it is a powerful depiction in its own right and Branagh is a superb actor. Unfortunately, the supporting actors are rather weak, and with the hefty price tag for the performance, I felt somewhat short-changed, most notably during the scenes when the star of the show was not present. I was especially not convinced by Regan, who seemed flat and did not annunciate that well (Shakespeare is difficult enough to follow without poor diction) As to Kent, had I not known the story, I would have certainly thought that he was the lowliest servant, not an earl or lord. Generally, the characters trudge on stage, step forward then retreat, reminding me somewhat of a school production that could have done with another couple of weeks of rehearsals. Edmund on the other hand was cast brilliantly and left no doubt as to why both sisters wanted to be seduced by him. He is probably the only one, who can really pull off the bizarre garb, pretty much by making it sexy.

What bizarre garb, you may ask. Well, having bought the programme it turns out that this production takes place in neolithic times. Which is why the actors wear a strange combination of fur sported by Beyoncé in Lemonade and costumes from Cats, the musical, combined with dr. Martens and Converses. I have really no idea what the idea behind this is. Other than the opening scene when some form of ancient, ritualistic dance is performed, it is all dukes and pieces of paper and then high-tech projections of filmed faces – so what were probably already anachronisms in original (I believe King Lear is meant to be set in the Iron Age) become terribly exacerbated. The one and only upside was it meant the actors were not mic-ed up. I guess a microphone did not go well with the stone-age look. Oh, and the very gruesome eye-gouging scene (of which we were duly pre-warned, with an apt trigger warning).

I will begrudgingly admit that the sticks, even if somewhat comical at times, did work very well in the well- choreographed fight scenes. I did also like the looming stones in the background – a sort of impersonated, modernistic Stonehenge. (At one point, the actors on the ramp evoked images of Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa.) And the disc of the angered heavens.  

Reflecting on the performance, two hours with no interval is demanding on the actors and audience alike – but it was probably necessary, as the overall luck-lustre acting of majority of the ensemble along with the comical taint to Lear’s madness, meant that any tension that had been built up in the first half would have been lost forever in the bar. As it was, this performance was hardly heart-wrenching. And also, maybe Branagh was too self-indulgent in both taking on the main role and directing. Maybe, had there been an independent director, they would have been a bit more objective and challenging to the star, elevating the play into the greatness that this work deserves.