Summary 
Cleverly staged with a set that breaks literally into pieces, a metaphor for both political England and the mind of King Lear. Elderly, frail, and slender, the arrogant Lear is vain and sneering but manages to elicit considerable sympathy in the powerful conclusion. Strong concepts, well-executed, especially the bleak suffering of the common people of the kingdom and the strobe-lit, amplified raging on the heath.
Design
Directed by Barbara Gaines. Set by Michael Philippi. Costumes by Nan Zabriskie. Lights by Rita Pietraszek. Sound by Robert Neuhaus. Original music by Lloyd Brodnax King. Wig design by Richard Jarvie. Fights by Richard Raether.
Cast
Peter Aylward (Kent), Steven Cell (King of France), Henry Godinez (Edmund), Kevin Gudahl (Edgar), Susan Hart (Cordelia), Richard Kneeland (King Lear), Ross Lehman (The Fool), David Massie (Cornwall), Tom Mula (Oswald), Barbara E. Robertson (Goneril), Kristine Thatcher (Regan), Greg Vinkler (Gloucester), Richard Wharton (Albany).
Analysis
Shakespeare Repertory's King Lear is sparsely set with candelabra placed diagonally on opposing ends of a wide triangular stage that extends to the first rows of seats. Heavy pillars provide a backdrop at the back of the stage, but apart from a looming, majestic purple arras at stage-left and a tapestry featuring an embroidered map of England, there are few props. The stage, and to a lesser degree the props, have a symbolic emphasis: at the beginning of the production, the dusky gray stage is a flat, expansive surface, barren and stable, much like the political England during the time of Lear. Following the banishment of Kent and Cordelia, however, a large section of flooring directly beneath the tapestry-map sinks unevenly lower than the rest of the stage, breaking the physical continuity of the stage and symbolically the state of the kingdom itself. After Lear's successive, humiliating rejections at the hands of Goneril and Regan, more sections of the stage give way, each at odd angles, until the set is splintered, representing the hazardous, rocky countryside, the fragmented political condition of England, and Lear's actual state of mind. The fractured stage also reveals various shadowed hiding-places, and cleverly, the cave into which Edgar has fled.
The props perform a similarly symbolic function. For example, once Cordelia's portion of the kingdom has been divided among them, Goneril and Regan - alone onstage - rejoice in their new, unexpected wealth: Goneril tenderly embraces the image of England on the tapestry-map, but with an abrupt flick of her wrists, jerks the cloth loose from its moorings. The tapestry collapses to the sunken part of the stage, where Regan spreads it like a blanket and lies upon it luxuriantly. Moments later, just before he makes his first soliloquy with the forged letter from Edgar, the bastard Edmund, sexually entwined with a nearly-naked woman, rolls clumsily onto the stage. The two manage to wrap themselves in the bottom of the royal arras and, in their frantic passion, break it free and pull it down around them. Then, with the set's props literally fallen around him, and with the stage collapsed and breaking apart, the black-haired Edmund dresses himself in black clothes - complete with military boots and gloves - as he reveals his sinister plans to the audience. His dark attire and appearance as well as his malevolent demeanor contrast with the portrayal of Edgar, his fair-haired and openly trusting brother. Even more effective is the visual contrast between Cordelia and her sisters: Susan Hart as the angelic Cordelia is a demure and soft-spoken blonde, attired in a long red gown, while her sisters Goneril and Regan - sultry and voluptuous with long, dark hair - are attired in furs and dark, revealing gowns, and are convincingly portrayed as shrill, venomous, and vitriolic.
The centerpiece of director Barbara Gaines' production is the performance by Richard Kneeland in the title role. The gamut of emotions Kneeland depicts are well articulated and passionately expressed: from haughty pride and violent fury to shocked dismay and insane raving, Kneeland's Lear finally and convincingly emerges tragically too late as a loving father and a purged, humble man, more sinn'd against than sinning. In the production's early moments, Kneeland depicts Lear as an arrogantly proud monarch, resplendently enrobed and crowned, standing acceptingly, arms spread wide and face held exultantly high, encircled by kneeling supplicants and sycophants. His vanity and intolerance are evident in his snarling facial expressions, in his sneering tone, and especially in his short-sighted quickness to anger. His character is in distinct contrast with the visiting King of France, portrayed as reflective and quietly observant, who clearly sees the virtues and honesty of Cordelia. In subsequent scenes, Kneeland as the figurehead Lear is no longer attired in the robes of a King, but wears the functional clothes of a commoner, signaling the beginning of his descent. However, Lear is still depicted as regally noble and temperamental, and Kneeland's consternation at rebuffs from Goneril and Regan, and his alarm at his ever-dwindling influence - and retinue - are agonizingly realized. Later, after being outcast and reduced to wearing the tattered rags of the beggars he once disdained, and following his mental collapse and subsequent capture by the French, Lear is returned to the stage aloft on a stretcher, carried ceremoniously through the audience on the shoulders of soldiers. Freshly bathed and dressed in thin white robes, and brightly lit in warm yellow tones, Lear is effectively visualized as drained and purified, both physically and emotionally.
Thematic emphasis is placed on the starving homeless and the desperately poor - "expose thyself to what wretches feel" - as well as on Lear's slow realization to their plight. In the play's opening sequence, for example, Gloucester discusses his sons with Kent while casually nibbling a large piece of bread. Watching hungrily are a pair of filthy, long-haired beggars, naked except for rags, scrabbling animalistically about the perimeter of the stage on all fours. When Gloucester carelessly tosses the bread to the ground, the beggars scramble after it, clawing at it and each other, finally gnawing ravenously on the discarded food. And when Edgar becomes Tom O'Bedlam, like Lear a begrimed fugitive in the barren countryside, he is depicted as a wild-haired, half-naked madman with a cracking, high-pitched voice, scuttling across the splintered stage like an insect. After the storm, he emerges from his cave - solemnly, in his contrastingly soft-spoken, disheartened Edgar persona - to follow loyally after his king. After a long pause, Edgar is surprisingly followed from the cave by a horde of feral human beings wearing only filthy rags, their hair long and tangled. They begin to wail like wild beasts, desperate and angry, their chilling cries amplified and rising frighteningly to a crescendo, finally ceasing as the stage suddenly goes pitch-black, and all is silent except for a reverberating, menacing echo, ending the first half of the performance.
The narrative, smoothly directed and quickly paced, is often accompanied by tribal drumbeats, naturalistic vocalizing, and percussive original music. Several sequences are performed with raw intensity: for example, the horrific blinding of Gloucester is powerfully rendered, although quite gruesome. The kindly old man, bound to a stake, has both eyes carved out with a knife, and each "eyeball" (water-soaked cotton encased in wax) is in turn exploded in Cornwall's fist with a graphic splash. While the visually shocking first "explosion" is quite unexpected, the second is played with gratuitously over-the-top melodrama: after causing considerable anticipatory cringing in the audience, the excessive brutality also elicits ripples of uneasy laughter. The production's most effective scene is the depiction of Lear and the Fool exposed to the pitiless storm on the heath, with Lear standing defiantly and raging, and the Fool cowering on his knees. Deeply set atop a raised ledge of broken stage, and back-lit against a swirling gray storm background, the two brave the archetypal storm together, visibly shaken by peals of thunder, and staggering on the rocks in brilliant flashes of strobe-lit lightning. Lear's hoarse cries and shouts - "spit, fire! spout, rain!" - are dramatically amplified, his passion as elemental as the storm itself, competing with bursts of thunder and cracks of lightning.
Cordelia's off-stage death is depicted with emotional power, and is intensified by creative staging: the victorious Kent, Albany, and Edgar have just sent guards offstage left to try to save Cordelia from being hanged. Several tense, hushed moments pass, the three victors peering expectantly to the left of the stage, waiting for word. Lear surprises the audience as well as the onstage characters by appearing suddenly upstage, brightly lit, with Cordelia dead in his arms, her neck disfigured with rope burns. The three men recoil in shock at Kneeland's heartbroken, amplified cries of "howl, howl, howl," as Lear slowly brings his daughter to center-stage. With his voice cracking, and with tears in his eyes, Kneeland movingly concludes the production with Lear's final words over his daughter. His performance is a stand-out in a King Lear that is typical of recent Shakespeare Repertory productions: imaginatively designed, faithful to the text, and featuring uniformly solid supporting performances.
Note: A version of this article was edited and published in Shakespeare Bulletin, Vol.11, No.3, Summer 1993.