Liz Lauren
Jonathan Smoots (left to right) as King Lear, James Ridge as the Duke of Gloucester and Eric Parks as the Duke’s estranged son, Edgar.
The great thing about classic, archetypal stories is that even when they are transposed into other eras and circumstances, the essential truth of the narrative can be just as potent, if not more so. Putting a familiar tale in a different setting often helps audiences see the drama in a new way — to understand the main characters, plot and motivations even more clearly. This is not the case with American Players Theatre’s current production of King Lear, directed by William Brown. Instead, incredible stage effects and high-tech updates obscure emotional connections with the main characters, Lear and his three daughters.
This Lear, set in the present, begins with a highly choreographed press conference, complete with an official podium, photographers and white chairs spread out over a lawn of Astroturf. As the king (Jonathan Smoots) announces he is splitting his empire among his daughters, Goneril (Laura Rook) and Regan (Kelsey Brennan) give hyperbolic speeches of filial adoration that seem perfectly fitting in the context. Like family members extolling the attributes of a candidate at a political convention, the remarks have been vetted and are being performed for the benefit of the cameras. But this overproduced photo opportunity overshadows Cordelia’s refusal to participate.
Regan and Goneril’s journey in the play is a descent from shallow vanity to murderous desperation as they compete for the attention of Edmund, the Machiavellian bastard son of Gloucester (a deliciously charming but base Marcus Truschinski). As their characters battle for power, their wardrobes devolve from power suits and ensembles (including fabulous hats) befitting Kate Middleton into fishnet stockings and skintight mini dresses that belong on the set of a “Real Housewives” reality show.
Without emotional foundation or noble credibility that is normally established in the opening scene, Lear’s decline from a king to a poor madman railing against his lot seems incidental — he is “handled” in dementia by his few remaining supporters just as his press secretary “handled” his entrance.
Cordelia (an earnest Melisa Pereyra) remains faithful to her father, leading an army against her siblings like a Kevlar-covered, commando version of Joan of Arc, but she doesn’t have much stage time until the end of the play. That leaves the weight of this epic play on the shoulders of the king’s few allies, who fortunately shine in their supporting roles, still propping up a monarch whose nobility the audience never witnesses.
As the fool, Christina Panfilio has the trust and friendship of the king — and permission to tell him the truth, as long as it is wrapped in a song or riddle. She leads her master to safety from a horrendous rainstorm, prophesizing a disastrous end. Panfilio imbues her role with the honest love Lear couldn’t find in his two elder daughters.
Jim Ridge is also extremely affecting as the Duke of Gloucester, acting out a parallel story to Lear’s. When he mistakes Edmund for his loyal son and Edgar for a villain, he puts his trust in the wrong man and it costs him his eyes. Eventually led out of his suicidal despair by Edgar (a tender Eric Parks), disguised as the beggar Poor Tom, the Duke “sees” the truth about his children and his own foolishness. His moment of recognition and reconciliation is the most beautifully rendered part of the story.
Another advocate for the king is the Duchess of Kent, played with strength and intelligence by Greta Oglesby. Even in a disguise that includes a bandana headband and pink t-shirt emblazoned with a cartoon drawing of Eeyore, Kent is fierce in her defense of her liege. Although Lear had banished her in a fit of misplaced rage early on, the Dutchess demonstrates the king’s worthiness through her bravery and devotion.
In the midst of these shifting alliances, mistaken identities and madness — both real and feigned — the elaborate effects in this production are both stunning and overwhelming. Armies of soldiers enter carrying M16s. Cordelia detonates a bomb that seems to shake the theater just before she is captured. While Lear yells at the storm to “crack your cheeks! rage! blow! Till you have drench’d our steeples, drown’d the cocks!,” he and the fool are drenched in gallons of water that actually pour onto the stage. These elements are viscerally exciting, but they overpower the text.
By casting Lear in a different era and a different light, this production tramples on some of the most complex and interesting tragic figures in Shakespeare’s canon.
