photo: Liz Lauren
William Shakespeare's "King Lear" has always been a tragedy about truth and redemption. Robert Falls' production at the Goodman seems to strive for the former and offers just barely enough of the latter.
The cleverer-than-average concept staging, of Yugoslavia at the Cold War's end, looms large in this show and never strays from the forefront. The parallels are easy to see: Just as the old but unwise King Lear splinters his kingdom for the benefit of his flattering daughters while banishing the honest Cordelia, the ethnic stew of the Balkans was splintered by the collapse of Communism and plunged into horrific civil war.
The opening scene pulls us into this corrupt and sordid world immediately. As the empty court obsequies of Goneril and Regan are re-imagined as the cult of personality that for so long dominated the nations of the eastern bloc, a gigantic portrait of the dear leader hangs overhead and the entire court sings a song of worship to their "Papa." This Lear is a decrepit Stalinist dictator, presiding over a court of murderous demagogues with gleeful sadism. His self-serving contention that he is "more sinned against than sinning" has never wrung so hollow.
Even traditionally heroic characters like Kent and Albany are sullied by their repugnant surroundings. Unfortunately, this serves to diminish the play's moral clarity rather than introduce any particularly interesting note of ambiguity. How can we know evil for what it is if the voices of good have been so compromised?
Still, one must admire the tenacity with which Falls clings to his nihilistic vision. Walt Spangler's sets and Anna Kuzmanic's costumes achieve a glorious wretched excess. The cast is uniformly excellent, though particular standouts include Kim Martin-Cotton's Goneril, who conveys a sympathetic side beneath her villainous nature, showing us how difficult it must have been to have a bully like Lear for a father, and Laura Odeh's Cordelia, who unsurprisingly emphasizes the character's mettle and integrity over saintly sweetness.
Stacy Keach in the title role is, of course, the main attraction. He masterfully incorporates the contemporary tropes of the production and simultaneously transcends them. His Lear is a volatile mix of brutality, madness, grandiosity and buried deep within, the compassion that befits a more graceful king. He brings a hilarious wit to alleviate the darkness of the proceedings (garnering even more laughs than Howard Witt's amusing but low-energy Fool) and provokes tears when he belatedly attains wisdom and love.
The redemption offered by this "Lea"r" is rough and hard-won, and the truth it tells is unflinchingly bitter.
Through October 22 at the Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn St. (312) 443-3800. Tickets $12.50-$68
