A Lifeless Lear


Reviewed 1/15/05

The irony of Shakespeare’s King Lear is that this story about an aging king is best played by an actor who has the years to comprehend the depth of the character, yet it is a bear of a part to memorize. The show is rarely produced, and even more rarely produced well. When Southwest Shakespeare announced that they had secured famed actor Ken Ruta to play the role, it was hoped that his seasoned professionalism would help to raise the level of this production. SWS has been consistent in their output, and the hope was legitimate. Unfortunately, it is a confluence of problems that sabotages this production, the greatest of which is the stifling direction of Greg Leaming that seems to have been drilled into the actors, leading them to march in a lockstep that drains the evening of spontaneity. There are some moments of transcendence, such as the pastoral scene between Ruta’s Lear and the blinded Gloucester (Larry Soller). However, long stretches of the evening are about as interesting as a military drill, and I found myself dozing at several points.

How can this passionate tragedy be so rigid? I suspect that this production has been overthought. When you have no clue of the sexual politics between Lear’s elder daughters Goneril (Maren Maclean) and Regan (Andi Watson) and Edmund (Kyle Sorrell), you get the feeling that there’s been more table work than bonding. Sorrell is one of the few consistent bright spots, the sly twinkle in his eye, his curled lip, and his lively voice are the physicalizations of his character’s ruinous ambitions. Maclean and Watson are, however, ramrod straight and exhibit none of the visceral bonds that these actresses have displayed on other occasions. Ruta’s Lear spends the first act in recitation, and only comes to life in madness. Charlie Bethel’s Fool is another of the few successful creations, full of life where most are presentational.

Delivery by rote infects several performances at various times here. Cale Epps’ Edgar is a series of flat and obvious levels, buffoonish at the start, overwrought as Poor Tom, he finally stands and delivers for his final ruminations. Randy Messersmith and Bruce Laks give Cornwall and Albany what life they are able, but any connection with others seems to have been severed by Leaming’s unimaginative stage pictures and blocking. Sandy Elias’ Kent is an earnest offering.

Jeff Thomson’s monolithic set captures the sobriety of the show while allowing for different levels and playing spaces with the uneven stairways. Adam Burghout’s lighting design annoyingly allows for many of the actors faces to be in shadow. The production’s gravitas is reflected in Lois K. Myers’ period 12th century costumes.

This is a Lear with little life, a very sad prospect. Those few performances that rise above the listlessness are not enough to recommend this production. This is a rare hiccup from an otherwise consistently impressive company.