King Lear
I went to a screening of the National Theater's King Lear. Ian McKellen is great, of course. He dodders, he weeps readily, and when he's carousing with his knights, in fact when he does anything at all, walks or gestures or even stands and breathes, you can see how his ruined frame was once much stronger, how even his tremors now are those of a once-strong man.
Kent, played by Sinead Cusack also very good. Kent is a woman, but as a servant, in disguise, a man.
At the beginning, in the contest that's no contest, Lear snips a map of the UK into "thirds" with great big shears, handing each daughter her prize scrap after her speech. The "third more opulent" is a biggish bit with London in it. Goneril is stuck with Scotland plus some general northness, Reagan with Ireland or anyway West country.
But overall not a great production, for some reason I can't put my finger on. Cordelia was stiff; I guess that'll do, as a reason. Someone near me kept saying "she's awful" during her speeches, so that I had to move seats, but I carried their judgment with me. It's not good when you're glad her breath doesn't mist the mirror. Regan is a minx, all about the contrast between chirpy femininity and ravening bloodlust, but it's a performance that veers toward the hammy, as does Edmund's. Also a rainstorm on the heath, dropping real water in sheets on the actor's heads, seems to have played havoc with everyone's body mics, a paltry thing to complain about, but the pops and saps and the sudden drops in volume are distracting. .
Now I want to see Trevor Nunn's version.
Kent, played by Sinead Cusack also very good. Kent is a woman, but as a servant, in disguise, a man.
At the beginning, in the contest that's no contest, Lear snips a map of the UK into "thirds" with great big shears, handing each daughter her prize scrap after her speech. The "third more opulent" is a biggish bit with London in it. Goneril is stuck with Scotland plus some general northness, Reagan with Ireland or anyway West country.
But overall not a great production, for some reason I can't put my finger on. Cordelia was stiff; I guess that'll do, as a reason. Someone near me kept saying "she's awful" during her speeches, so that I had to move seats, but I carried their judgment with me. It's not good when you're glad her breath doesn't mist the mirror. Regan is a minx, all about the contrast between chirpy femininity and ravening bloodlust, but it's a performance that veers toward the hammy, as does Edmund's. Also a rainstorm on the heath, dropping real water in sheets on the actor's heads, seems to have played havoc with everyone's body mics, a paltry thing to complain about, but the pops and saps and the sudden drops in volume are distracting. .
Now I want to see Trevor Nunn's version.