The Shadow King, Barbican Theatre
Jun 27, 2016 10:13:45 GMT
mallardo, PalelyLaura, and 2 more like this
Post by Steve on Jun 27, 2016 10:13:45 GMT
Saw this Sunday matinee, and it's a remarkable transformation of Shakespeare's "King Lear" into a ritual of renewal.
Some spoilers follow. . .
I usually have one problem or another with "King Lear." Some aspect of his transformation that I can't quite buy. Even Ian McKellen couldn't sell Lear to me, one moment unbelievably petty, the next incredibly wise. Jonathan Pryce came closest, his overly manipulative fingers peeled away from control of those around him, slowly, painfully, one by one.
This Lear is not about Lear's change, but the world's change. The individualism of Lear is irrelevant. His disrespect for the land, his attempt to own it, to allocate it, to give it away and control it, in this Aboriginal Lear, means that the land will take revenge on him, and everyone on it, renewing itself.
Tom E Lewis' Lear fiercely dances and sings his way through this Lear. His is not the dour Lear we typically see, but a dynamic Lear who sings and dances. But he has forgotten the meaning of his singing and dancing. It is only when he throws the red dirt of the earth up and over himself, that he reconnects to the rituals that the singing and dancing were meant for, the bond between man and the earth beneath him.
This spiritual connection to the earth we come from is what gives this Lear it's power. Edmund disavows it, Edgar embraces it, and Kamahi Djordon King's wise Fool has always known it. He knows what stories are. He tells us that Lear is Britain's "dreamtime," and for one hour and thirty minutes it will be Australia's "dreamtime," and as musical instruments play, and singers wail and crow, the whole narrative dissolves into a hurricane of renewal, by which the Earth reasserts it's dominance over man, and the Earth's red dust floats through the air at the Barbican, and resettles. The effect is not dissimilar to a documentary like Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance, and indeed, there is a cinema screen broadcasting images of nature and the Earth behind, but here that balance reasserts itself, the Lear narrative and storytelling generally revealing themselves to be components in our own ritual of renewal.
Shakespeare's words have almost wholly been rewritten, into Kriol and Australian English, and that too feels part of the process of renewal that this production is about. Although I felt the loss of some of Shakespeare's language, although I missed the nuances of Lear's individuality, the sense of all aspects of this story swirling in concert to refresh and renew the audience was so palpable that I won't see "King Lear" in quite the same way again.
4 stars
Some spoilers follow. . .
I usually have one problem or another with "King Lear." Some aspect of his transformation that I can't quite buy. Even Ian McKellen couldn't sell Lear to me, one moment unbelievably petty, the next incredibly wise. Jonathan Pryce came closest, his overly manipulative fingers peeled away from control of those around him, slowly, painfully, one by one.
This Lear is not about Lear's change, but the world's change. The individualism of Lear is irrelevant. His disrespect for the land, his attempt to own it, to allocate it, to give it away and control it, in this Aboriginal Lear, means that the land will take revenge on him, and everyone on it, renewing itself.
Tom E Lewis' Lear fiercely dances and sings his way through this Lear. His is not the dour Lear we typically see, but a dynamic Lear who sings and dances. But he has forgotten the meaning of his singing and dancing. It is only when he throws the red dirt of the earth up and over himself, that he reconnects to the rituals that the singing and dancing were meant for, the bond between man and the earth beneath him.
This spiritual connection to the earth we come from is what gives this Lear it's power. Edmund disavows it, Edgar embraces it, and Kamahi Djordon King's wise Fool has always known it. He knows what stories are. He tells us that Lear is Britain's "dreamtime," and for one hour and thirty minutes it will be Australia's "dreamtime," and as musical instruments play, and singers wail and crow, the whole narrative dissolves into a hurricane of renewal, by which the Earth reasserts it's dominance over man, and the Earth's red dust floats through the air at the Barbican, and resettles. The effect is not dissimilar to a documentary like Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance, and indeed, there is a cinema screen broadcasting images of nature and the Earth behind, but here that balance reasserts itself, the Lear narrative and storytelling generally revealing themselves to be components in our own ritual of renewal.
Shakespeare's words have almost wholly been rewritten, into Kriol and Australian English, and that too feels part of the process of renewal that this production is about. Although I felt the loss of some of Shakespeare's language, although I missed the nuances of Lear's individuality, the sense of all aspects of this story swirling in concert to refresh and renew the audience was so palpable that I won't see "King Lear" in quite the same way again.
4 stars
