From left, Jennifer Lines, playing the role of Regan, and Colleen Wheeler, playing Goneril, are led by the stellar titular performance of Benedict Campbell in King Lear. bard on the beach king lear Jennifer lines, benedict campbell and colleen wheeler photo by David Blue
As studies of families go, Shakespeare's King Lear is about as cruel and merciless as they come. Uncompromising in its brutal dissection of the effect a father's vanity has on his three daughters, it's a play that pushes us to ask what our children owe us – and, more importantly perhaps, what we owe them.
A collaboration with Theatre Calgary, this Bard on the Beach production comes having already played a full season, and is all the more assured for it. Director Dennis Garnhum shows real confidence with the text, allowing it to propel the tension without recourse to gimmicks. The set is simply a wooden frame with a platform and stairs; the sound and lighting are sparsel and on point (save for one over-enthusiastic use of the smoke machine).
But it's not a timid production: the enthusiastically grisly popping out of the Earl of Gloucester's eyes had the audience audibly reeling on Thursday night.
The lack of adornment leaves the actors with nowhere to hide and, in large part, it only strengthens the power of their performances. For this is a fine Lear, unafraid of plunging us headlong into the ramifications of a reckless moment of foolish pride by a father who privileges words over actions, and thinks material wealth is richer than unconditional love.
Much has been made of Benedict Campbell taking the titular role: His father, Douglas, played Lear three times to great acclaim, making the role his own for many Canadian audiences. But Campbell junior takes on this weak, misguided patriarch in full throttle, with no hint of homage-bound hesitation. His Lear is a vainglorious, bitter man, whose two eldest daughters have turned sharp and unyielding in response. There is no hint of dementia or Alzheimer's to soften this King's unreasonable behaviour to the one daughter who refuses to sing for her supper, instead the madness that eventually develops is born out of his own actions. He suffers because suffering is what he deserves.
If Campbell is undoubtedly – and rightly so – the star of the show, he is more than ably supported by several excellent performances.
Scott Bellis is an extraordinary Fool, subtly balancing sadness and sarcasm, criticism and compassion. With David Marr's mournful Earl of Gloucester and John Murphy's honourable Kent, the three bring a moral conscience to Lear's circumstances, supporting him even while refusing to condone that which precipitated his fall.
Michael Blake as Edmund, the duplicitous, power-hungry illegitimate son of Gloucester, plays up the charm and wit of a political climber, ready to betray those closest to him for his own ends, while Nathan Schmidt as his kind, unsuspecting half-brother Edgar manages to convey dignity even as his character feigns lunacy to protect himself.
The only weakness in the cast, unfortunately, is the portrayal of the three sisters.
Andrea Rankin as Cordelia lacks depth, her performance smacks of inexperience, never really transcending the delivery of the verse. But most disappointing are Bard regulars Colleen Wheeler (Goneril) and Jennifer Lines (Regan) who seem to be trailing echoes of the pantomime-like performance they brought (admittedly to much hilarity) to last year's The Tempest. Here, Wheeler's twisting of her mouth knowingly to the audience and Lines's mannered histrionics play for laughs where none are due. We can't find any understanding in their twisted mean-spiritedness because any nuance is sacrificed for a misplaced Ugly Sisters' double act.
Nevertheless, this production must stand as one of the most successful Bard has mounted in the past decade, and the best piece of theatre the city has seen in a while.