 | King Lear |  |
"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child!" Act I, scene iv
Written: 1605
Marin Shakespeare Company ; July 8, 2006 San Rafael, CA, USA
Starring :
Reviewed on : 2006-08-01 15:04:02 ; Reviewed by : Denise Battista
| The Marin Shakespeare Company is skilled at their craft, and one has to be
in order to successfully tackle a play like Lear. Grant thou, it helps to
have multi-decades of Shakespearience from veteran Shakespearean actor and
seasoned dramaturge Barry Kraft. Dominican University's outdoor
Amphitheatre offers a spectacular setting for this play, permitting the
transformed Edgar to emerge from the woods off stage right, and beckoning
the audience to look to the sky as Lear rages against the elements - that is
if they can tear their eyes away from Kraft, who is undoubtedly in his
element. Within the trees is set a stage with majestic red and green
banners atop large and vaguely transparent white panel sliding doors. To
the far right and left of those banners sit six-foot gong-like drums, beaten
appropriately by unseen drummers. I am still confused by the sometimes
Kung-fu clad actors frocked in belted robes and wearing thin bandanas 'round
their heads. Perhaps they have something to do with the gongs. The
epiphany has yet to strike.
This is not a Lear who crumbles before our eyes; Kraft's Lear wavers between
sanity and madness, power and frailty throughout the play. As Lear divides
his kingdom he is draped in pomp, yet his right hand holds a Caesarean palsy
and he catches his breath throughout the scene. Lear's physical wavering
translates into a mental teeter-totter, as well. When Cordelia (LeAnne
Rumbel) responds to her father's need for a spectacular display of love with
talk of "nothing" and familial "duty," Kraft smiles with a puzzled brow. He
paces downstage between the map, and upstage to his throne two times with
this look, second-guessing his senses in a distracted silence before
denouncing his only loyal daughter.
Kraft crosses the line into vulgar madness in an immaculately played scene
in which he battles a mouse. Bedecked in weeds and missing a shoe, he
offers an imaginary mouse a piece of toasted cheese, and I must admit that I
found myself looking for a mouse on the stage in consequence of Kraft's
skillful acting. I was shaken from my search when Kraft's bare foot crushed
his mouse front stage center. After philosophizing about Gloucester, wrens,
and flies committing adultery, Kraft grabs himself and simulates a most
forceful act of masturbation. At this point I have no doubt that Lear is
mad. The blinded Gloucester is the only one who misses Kraft's display of
affection, thus when he asks to kiss Kraft's kingly hand, he is left in the
dark when Lear replies "Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality." The
audience, however, is brilliantly disgusted.
There are other stars on this stage, such as Darren Bridgett, who is a
calculating and charismatic Edmund, and Michael Wiles, whose portrayal of
Edgar results in the first time I was not irritated by this character. As
Poor Tom, Wiles wears a crown of thorns and scraps of clothing. He hunches
or crawls around the stage beating the foul fiend from his back. Yet when
he is alone to soliloquize with the audience, he is frank and charming, not
whiny and pitiful. The tendency to play this character to the latter is the
reason I tend to dislike Edgar, but as a breath of fresh air, Wiles'
strength as an actor, and his insightful interpretation of Edgar works well.
But I do so love Shakespeare's villains, and Bridgett is a witty and
dastardly Edmund. Bridgett uses his soliloquies to connect with his
audience. He is obviously comfortable on the stage, which results in a sort
of nonchalance when he unfolds his plans. This nonchalance translates into
a lack of conscience, making him all the more sinister, and his deeds all
the more heinous.
I like Edmund to be a bastard until the end, but Bridgett plays his death
scene with an air of redemption. His dying words reveal his decree against
Cordelia's life - granted a little too late -- and as Bridgett in borne from
the stage, it seems as though he did indeed mean to do some good. I,
however, want the waver. The text supports the idea that Edmund stalls for
time so that his decree has the opportunity for fulfillment. Edmund is
"moved" by Edgar's lengthy recollection of Gloucester's death, and in
consequence, Edmund states that he shall perchance do good. But then he
requests the men speak on because they look as though they have more to say.
Edmund sits on his information while we learn of Regan and Goneril's death,
and during the reemergence of Kent [as himself]. He reveals nothing until
he is asked, "Where's Cordelia?" and even then, Edmund's words hang in the
air before they fall. Why not speak up before, lad? Director's choice, I
suppose (with all due respect). But ah. My Edmund is a bastard till the
end!
Matthew Henerson's portrayal of the Fool is brilliant, and when he teaches a
riddle or sings a song he owns the stage. Henerson wears black and white
jail-striped clothing; his coxcomb is a brown hat with red plumes; his face
is painted red, and he walks with a white cane, as his right foot is lame -
most of the time. He is funny, witty and wise, and when he makes a joke or
reveals a riddle, Henerson kicks out his lame foot, raising his left hand in
the air and pointing his right-handed cane toward the audience with a
slapstick seal of approval. But there is a dichotomy to Henerson's Fool,
and this dichotomy accounts for his brilliance. This Fool is also sad and
discontent. His lack of ignorance and what I believe is the immobility of
his station creates a discontent that Henerson reveals in sporadic glimpses.
When Lear finishes sparring with the storm, Henerson takes the stage for his
prophetic soliloquy. To my surprise, he screams it in anger and
frustration, and almost in the same breath he does a silly dance. Then in a
moment of confusion he seems to forget which of his feet is lame. He speaks
his final line of the scene and does another funny dance upstage center. He
stops, turns to the audience in a moment of seriousness, and raises his cane
in the air at the precise moment a crack of thunder pierces the atmosphere.
He then falters, his strength gone, his right leg lame again, and he exits
with the heaviness and discontent of a prophetic prisoner.
There are some kinks in this production, such as Rumbel's incessant batting
of the bugs that were likely bugging us all, or Oswald's (Matthew Purdon)
tendency to stumble and fall before Kent follows through on his theatrical
blows. I also found the plucking of Gloucester's eyes to be sadly
anticlimactic, although I feel Jack Powell's acting opened up once his eyes
were closed, permitting his fall from the Cliffs of Dover sentiment and
grace.
This production has just that. Sentiment and grace. It is thoughtful and
thought-provoking. Tragic and beautiful. It is Krafted well, and well
worth an evening under the stars.
Robert Currier's production of King Lear is at the Forest Meadow's
Amphitheatre in San Rafael, CA through August 20, 2006.
www.marinshakespeare.org
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Sir John Gilbert, R.A.,
Lear and the Fool
Reviews
|  | Royal Shakespeare Company
March 4, 2010 |  | Everyman Theatre
July 22, 2009 |  | Theatre Project Si
November 13, 2008 |  | A Young Vic/Headlong Theatre/Liverpool Everyman and Playhouse co-production
November 5, 2008 | | Shakespeare’s Globe
June 1, 2008 |  | Royal Shakespeare Company
December 5, 2007 |  | Stratford Festival of Canada
August 4, 2007 |  | Goodman Theatre
September 19, 2006 |  | Marin Shakespeare Company
July 8, 2006 |  | Shotgun Players
May 13, 2006 |  | Actors' Shakespeare Project
October 1, 2005 |  | Piven Theatre Workshop
2001 |  | Chicago Shakespeare Theatre
2001 |  | AUN Company
2000 |  | Ninagawa Company/RSC
1999 |
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