King Lear: clever but squeamish

Patti Allan wheels Christopher Gaze, followed by Anderson, Lyndall-Knight, Marr and Wheeler; photo David Blue

Any play in which the lead observes, “As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; / They kill us for their sport” should tear away at a viewer’s comfortable and smug preconceptions. I admit it: I went to Vanier Park to ache and feel King Lear in my guts. But didn’t with This Bard on the Beach presentation.

Since English teachers like myself are fond of reminding their students that Shakespeare’s plays are ‘timeless’, director James Fagan Tait has happily plucked the plot from its historical roots and dropped it into a “not-too-distant future” that smacks of 1980s England – a decade that featured unremitting avarice and the quintessential Iron Woman. To make the ‘80s reference more clear, musical director Joelysa Pankanea has stitched tunes influenced by The Housemartins, The Smiths, and Everything but the Girl into the fabric of the play, and the dominatrix-inspired outfits of evil sisters Goneril (Lois Anderson) and Regan (Tiffany Lyndall-Knight) fairly shriek “Annie Lennox” on tour with Eurythmics.

A quick refresher for those who don’t regularly run lines from Lear with the teacher down the hall… Shakespeare’s King Lear concerns the tragedy that ensues when an old king decides to take early retirement, and what happens when he attempts to divvy up his kingdom among three daughters (good Cordelia and her evil sisters Goneril and Regan) – provided they declare sufficient love for him. What follows is a 2 ½ hour illustration of the consequences of ego and the greed born of poor parenting.

Bard artistic director Christopher Gaze is powerful as Lear, who descends into madness after peevishly banishing his favourite daughter, Cordelia (Melissa Poll), and then being infantilized and neglected by the remaining two. Gaze’s rolling voice booms through the Vanier Park big top, spewing impotent curses and well-timed quips. For example, when Lear, his fool (appearing in this production as a nurse) and his loyal servant Kent stumble upon the apparently mad Poor Tom, the addled former King asks, “Didst thou give all to thy two daughters? / And art thou come to this?” And the audience chuckles, right on cue. Plus, Gaze’s sung solo toward the end of the play poignantly gathers the still-living members of the cast into a chorus that mines the redundant king’s sorrow and isolation. Frankly, it’s the one transcendent scene in the production.

As counterpoint, Patti Allan does a plucky, cheeky and admirable job as Lear’s fool/nurse, and sprinkles much-needed salty humour into the play’s darker moments. To wit, when Lear flees Goneril’s house after she threatens to reduce his retinue, the fool tartly informs the dependent octogenarian why a snail has a house: “To put his head in; not give / it away to his daughters.”

Finally, Andrew Wheeler brings a visceral and (ahem) very sexy malevolence to the character of the Duke of Cornwall, Regan’s wicked and well-matched husband. With the powerful set of his shoulders and a leonine stride, Wheeler’s Cornwall signals who’s boss in his realm. In fact, it’s entirely believable that he plucks out the eyes of the elderly Earl of Gloucester (Christopher Weddell) who refuses to bow before his megalomania. (Naughty, naughty boy!) But this moment of horror seems incongruous within this production – more like a random violent mugging than the ‘natural’ punishment of an arrogant man who fails to ‘see’ the consequence of his actions.

And this squeamishness is my central criticism of this Lear. While the text revels in describing the muck of nature and the griminess of people’s souls, Bard offers the audience clever staging that doesn’t always work. (As one of my companions asked, “What’s up with the vacuum?”)

Along the same lines, the decision to present Lear as an invalid, confined to a wheelchair, automatically deprives the play of some of its raving, physical punch. Certainly, Lear’s final break with sanity, which occurs during a suggested rather than emphatic storm, is muted.

Perhaps the audience is being asked to draw a parallel between today’s middle-aged children and their nursing-home-bound parents. If so, this fascinating suggestion is underplayed and all but lost.

As is the raunchy, Cain and Able sub-plot that pitches ruthless, “natural son” Edmund (Robert Moloney) against good-guy and legitimate heir Edgar (Todd Talbot). Little emphasis is placed on their father Gloucester’s boasting about his own sexual prowess and Edmund’s on-going, public humiliation. Nor, in this production, is Edmund particularly charismatic. That’s why, his rallying cry, “I grow, I prosper; / Now, gods, stand up for bastards!” falls flat. And why the Act V battle for his bed between Goneril and Regan is incomprehensible. Perhaps this murderous romantic triangle will develop a few more sparks as the season progresses, maybe when the two sisters begin stalking around more confidently in their spike-heeled boots.

So, all in all, Bard’s production of King Lear is smart and well-staged – if more high-brow and less human than the harrowing script deserves.

By Billey Rainey