Happy new Lear

Brown finds comedy in tragedy

by Bill Rodriguez

KING LEAR. By William Shakespeare. Directed by John Emigh. With Darius Pierce, Kerry Silva, Ben Steinfeld, Harry Barandes, Colin Cheney. At Brown University Theatre/Sock & Buskin through March 18.

It takes the brave or the monumentally foolhardy to stage a college production of King Lear, the toughest of the major Shakespearean tragedies to make convincing. Wise old theater veterans have failed to summon the gravitas that the title role demands. Skillful directors have stumbled in keeping up with the abrupt shifts in tone that can come across as arbitrary rather than motivated.

Brown University Theatre/Sock & Buskin has finessed some of the challenges by not trying for your father's Lear. As director John Emigh informs us in his program notes, his running gag has been that the play really is "a comedy about young people." The result may not draw from the traditional strengths of the tragedy, but the production certainly offers its own satisfactions.

It's staged on the Stuart Theatre's proscenium stage, allowing set designer Michael McGarty to dwarf the actors in a gray, menacing environment, where the primitive emotions on display are complemented by flat, scattered rocks and weathered horizontal slats that arch over the action. The time is B.C. Britain, and the gorgeous costume design of Lisa Batt-Parente keeps even the regal apparel grounded in muted, somber earth tones. Heavy, rich fabrics rather than embellishments signal opulence at court, and one cape is simply a supple, tanned hide. Sam Kusnetz's sound design places a simple drum or clay-pot percussion on stage for key scenes.

Shakespeare, as if concerned that three hours won't be long enough, hits the ground running, perfunctorily getting the set-up out of the way so the consequences -- his real interest -- can commence. By the end of the first scene, King Lear (Darius Pierce) has roared forth two banishment edicts. His youngest and most beloved daughter, Cordelia (Kerry Silva), refuses to follow her two sisters in their pro-forma exaggerations of filial devotion and love, as their father has requested. So instead of giving her a third of his kingdom, he gives her the boot. The Duke of Kent (Nick Rosenblum) risks the enraged king's wrath by defending Cordelia, and is in turn banished.

No suspense is forthcoming from the sisters' intentions. Goneril (Susanna Harris) and Regan (Miriam Silverman) have agreed to take turns every month hosting the abdicated king and his retinue of 100. But the troublesome old man has defanged himself by giving up his crown, and without a bite his bark prompts smirks. When Goneril suggests that 50 in his retinue would be more than enough and Lear storms off, Regan's response is, "Why not 25?" Fortunately, Lear has kept the loyalty and aid of his banished Kent, who has returned disguised as a boisterous, hot-tempered retainer.

A parallel story of filial foolishness and betrayal is that of the Duke of Gloucester (Colin Cheney). He wrongly believes that his son Edgar (Harry Barandes) is conniving against him, taking the word of a smooth-talking Edmund (Ben Steinfeld), his bastard son. The first indication we get that this Lear is staking out its own territory is here. Edmund's monologue, telling of his plight and his plot, is addressed to us instead of as introspective thinking out loud. And rather than brooding, Edmund is hearty and jocular, a mean kid bad-mouthing the old man, as exasperated as he is angered by Gloucester's cluelessness.

Justifying this tone from his own children, Pierce's Lear blusters on occasion, like a blowhard CEO whose employees never give frank feedback. Oh, those grown-ups. Pierce handles the behavior convincingly and warrants the eye-rolling of the daughters, but the trade-off is our dismissing Lear as just an addled old egomaniac. Trouble is, when we get to the central storm scene, with the king wandering rain-battered on a heath with only his loyal fool to comfort him, since we haven't seen the great man in him by this time, we're left with simply a pathetic old failure. It's not enough that there is "real" rain drenching the king and his shivering minion. For a drama to rise to the level of tragedy, in the classical dictum, we need to see a man of stature fall from great height rather than an ordinary man stumble.

Performances all around are on a high level, though. The daughters are as one-dimensional as any Shakespeare has reduced to chess board plot function, but the actors do what they can with the occasional raised eyebrow or averted glance. Silva, who plays Cordelia, gets the chance to break out in the role of the Fool, a character the Bard always delved into with insight and gusto. As this fool watches his beloved king self-destruct, Silva nails the characterization: a lisping child-at-heart, clearly seeing the obvious, watching helplessly.

Other exchanges and relationships work well in this production. Even the plain ol' bad guy Cornwall, Regan's husband, has his villainy turned down to mere haughtiness until needed, in Seth Bockley's thoughtful rendition. As the blinded Gloucester (literally as well as figuratively) and the helpful, filthy madman Old Tom (actually his good son Edgar in another disguise), Cheney and Barandes work together well.

As Lear laments, "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child." This production is an interesting exploration of such thanklessness.