It is immediately apparent from the first scene of the National Theatre’s production of King Lear that the inspiration for the time period is the height of the Soviet era. There is a constant military presence: soldiers flank various scenes on all sides attired in modern military dress, and even carouse in Goneril’s hall. But most tellingly, Lear enters like a dictator; his request for flattery is apparently an official matter. He sits with his back to the audience and one reviewer likens him to a conductor, orchestrating the event that is the beginning of the end. Lear appears not so much as an aged, Shakespearean king, but a deranged leader straight from the annals of tyranny. However, the decision to reference such an epic time period, enhanced by epic set pieces and effects, detracts from the human heartbreaks and intricacies of the fall of Lear.
Lear’s madness is made all the more apparent through juxtaposition of his present madness with his former greatness. For example, when Kent is put in the stocks, he is actually chained to a Stalinist statue of Lear, immortalized in all his former glory. Even from the beginning Lear’s decline is very much a state matter, with his cavalry, family, and officials bearing witness to his initial breakdown. His dress is militaristic, echoing his past as a military leader, but his physicality is far less virile, and he looks more like Santa Claus than Stalin by this point. The staging is essential for imparting this impression. Lear faces his daughters, officials, and soldiers, his back to the audience. A microphone is placed redundantly (he obviously needs no volume enhancement) before him—the whole scene is reminiscent of a State-of-the-Union speech or press conference. However, he is also seated, placing him lower than the others and providing a visual reminder of his deterioration. At one point he very obviously sits in the midst of his rising anger, as if the exertion is too much. The second intriguing bit of staging is when he flips several tables and chairs. This temporarily restores some of his power (everyone flinches in fear) but this brief glimpse at a once fearsome leader is once again subverted when he makes Cordelia stand on a chair after her refusal to fawn. A reviewer likens this to a punishment for a naughty schoolgirl, and praises the absurdity of the juxtaposition. While the contrast certainly affirms the absurdities of Lear’s demands, the nature of juxtaposition means that the two elements—the epic and the intimate—are in conflict. While some may argue that this is the genius of King Lear, in this particular production one overshadows the other.
While the epic is present in the play, the frequency with which the production inserts it into the play undermines certain intimacies present in the text. The most prominent example is the score, which consists mostly of undulatory, screeching violins. While this is perfectly acceptable, the frequency is a problem. Almost every other scene is punctuated by a dramatic piece of music, taking away from its intended impact; other sounds also detract from the actors’ performances. Planes fly overhead, and along with sounds of thunder, drown out dialogue. The technical coup de grace, Lear and the fool’s ascent onto an elevated sliver of the stage, is astonishing due to its novelty—however, the mechanical clank when it comes down is not. The rotating stage, while symbolizing the constant machinations of fortune’s wheel, distracts, once again, with the frequency with which it turns. It happens so often that it seems there is a pattern, undermining the chaos and lack of divine justice present in Lear’s world. One instance of the mechanical stage being used effectively is the cliff scene. A portion of the stage is raised about a foot, a subtle utilization of technology that enhances the absurdity and heartbreak that underlies Edgar fooling his father. Technical fireworks overshadow emotional fireworks, effectively ridding the play of the cognitive dissonance between epic punishments for personal misdeeds.
The last insertion of the epic that misfires is the ending. When Lear brings in Cordelia’s body, it is essentially the final stroke in a deadly design that brings a king and his country to his knees. However, the stage is already littered with bodies, distracting from the heartbreak caused by Cordelia’s death. While this is arguably an attempt to show the magnitude of destruction, what should be a touching demonstration of their special bond is merely the centerpiece of a grisly tableau. This is the final break from the thread of familial drama that should run through King Lear.
I am incredibly biased in favor of the RSC, so this production of Lear was somewhat too much. It was incredibly entertaining, but theatre is a different medium from film for several important reasons. The lack of possible special effects allows the audience to use their imaginations, which are much more effective than any machinery. Actors also benefit because the lack of flash seems to allow them to access more fundamental depths of emotion. For example, Ian McKellan’s Lear gave his heath speech on a stage that was empty. There was no music, no flashing lightning—only a lack of sound; it seemed like the audience was holding its breath until he finished. Beale’s Lear seemed a little overwhelmed. Another thing that has been controversial is the death of the fool. While I find it an extremely inventive explanation for his disappearance, I was also heartily reminded of several Korean thrillers I’ve seen which seem to delight in devising the most violent, bloody ends for its characters. All said and done, the flashes and bangs distracted me too much from the family problems. The fact that the maiming of Gloucester takes place in a more minimal space than Cordelia’s death bothers me. However, my qualms could simply reflect a fault of my own—maybe I’m just not advanced enough to process so many stimuli on top of emotional wreckage. Finally, our seats could certainly have been a disadvantage. While I am grateful that we got them in the first place, being so far away was like being in an arena concert, expect the cast was no Journey. It couldn’t fill the space.