Review: Tampa Repertory Theatre's Production of Perhaps William Shakespeare's Greatest Tragedy: KING LEAR

"The oldest hath borne most: we that are young/shall never see so much, nor live so long" --Edgar in KING LEAR

"The younger rises when the old doth fall." --Edmund in KING LEAR

"I confess that I am old; Age is unnecessary." --Lear in KING LEAR

"Thou should'st not have been old till thou had'st been wise." --The Fool in KING LEAR

It obviously sucks being old. Yes, I know, it beats the alternative. But if you look at the movies, books and plays about old age, it can become a dark place to exist. Losing both friends and hearing, dealing with indifferent children, watching as the world passes you by. A lot of the elderly want to beat the odds, want to be like the young, which probably explains why 11% of Tik Tok users are AARP age or older, and why there's the rumored high STD rate in places like the Villages. But for many characters, old age is a dark and lonely road, from Miss Havisham in her wedding dress to Umberto D with his little dog. Perhaps the most famous example of this is William Shakespeare's KING LEAR, tied with Hamlet as possibly the Bard's greatest tragedy.

In the first scene of KING LEAR, the elderly king decides to retire, stepping down from his throne and dividing his kingdom among his daughters--Goneril, Regan and Cordelia. Goneril and Regan flatter him to no end, but his favorite, Cordelia, the one daughter that truly loves him, doesn't play that game and is banished. There is not a greater set-up for the events to come, of the dominoes to fall, in theatre history than this first scene in KING LEAR; we get all the who's who and what's what that we need, and then we watch for the next nearly three hours as it all comes crumbling down. The older daughters reject their father as he slowly goes mad. His madness and fury match the stormy weather that surrounds him; it's as if nature is reflective of his inner turmoil. Characters are blinded, stabbed, poisoned. And it all ends horrifically, with the deaths of nearly every major player including the work's most beloved character, a death that shocked Dr. Samuel Johnson so much that he wrote, "I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play..."

It's that darkness of spirit, of soul, that drives KING LEAR. We know it's not going to end pretty. But we watch the sad disintegration of a once great king and father and see what power can do to anyone. (His two older daughters are like his very own pair of Iagos.) Whether or not it's the greatest of Shakespeare's plays is up for debate, but it may be the ultimate Shakespeare work, with storms, villainy, war, betrayal, humor, nature's wrath, man's inhumanity, goodness snuffed, and the bleakest ending imaginable. And yet, it is seldom produced. As far as I know, the last time it was performed in the Bay Area was 1993 (and that was in Sarasota). It's a difficult show to mount, a tough story to tell well, and it's shocking that it's done all too infrequently.

That's why I thank God for Tampa Rep, who have mounted a solid production of this incredible play, one that must be experienced at least once in your lifetime. Maybe you'll be like Dr. Johnson and never want to visit it again. Or maybe you'll be like me and bask in its incredible language, story and deeper meanings, leading us on an extremely dark and stormy landscape. It goes where few plays dare to go.

The cast is an assemblage of the best talent in our area, featuring several heavy hitters that are worth seeing in and of themselves. But KING LEAR lives or dies with whomever plays the title role.

Few actors in our area, or anywhere for that matter, can portray Lear, sort of the Holy Grail for older performers. And the great Michael Mahoney is a godsend here. He possesses one of the best speaking voices in the state, a voice incredibly commanding, filling the room and able to shake the rafters, and yet he never actually yells; it's just a voice so clear, almost melodic, and pleasing to the ear. I remember him in Tampa Rep's five-hour Iceman Cometh several years ago, and no one plays world-weariness better. With his long gray hair and beard, he somewhat resembles the old man on the cover of Jethro Tull's Aqualung album.

The aforementioned opening scene is underplayed more than usual here, and I thought this was for effect, so we can see the Lear grow more emotional, much more passionate, as the play progresses. We slowly experience this dive into the madness of King Lear, but I don't know if I ever got hold of his pure fury, raising the bar, bringing this amazing performance to the ultimate level. In the thunderstorm, his voice matches the booming thunder, but is the unbridled wrath there, a wrath so strong that the heavens explode and a tempest pummels the world with rain? (His Lear here comes across as an afternoon shower rather than a torrential downpour.) When a character later refers to his meltdown as "the great rage," I thought, "What great rage?" But it's still a towering performance, one I've waited two years to see, and it's worthy of every accolade that Mahoney deserves and every award he should receive, even if it's a performance more measured than I thought necessary.

Jim Wicker is stoic and almost Mr. Spock stolid as Gloucester, but I don't know if I ever got the sense of his desperation as his world caves in around him. Only when blinded does he really come into his own. (Ironically, in one of Shakespeare's greatest twists, when Gloucester has completely lost his vision, only then can he really "see" what's going on.)

K. Chinthana Satakoun's Regan is a master of cunning, with eye rolls and gritted teeth where they spit out their words. They're the force in this show, where everything is a life and death game. All passion, over the top but delightfully so. They're a lip-licking villain, full of wicked joy, a young Joan Crawford playing a murderous Veruca Salt. Their joy as they along with Cornwall (Jeffrey M. Lukas, well-acted) blind Gloucester by gouging his eyes must be seen; it reminds me of Grace Zabriskie's terrifying turn as she gleefully tortures Harry Dean Stanton in Wild at Heart. Although they sometimes seem LOUD FOR LOUD SAKE BECAUSE WE'RE PERFORMING SHAKESPEARE, especially early on, Satakoun blazes the stage with their presence and jolts every scene to life. A major talent.

As Edmund, Cranstan Cumberbatch is superlative, chewing his words, and loosening the show up a bit. Here's a character with no moral compass, no allegiances, switching sides on a whim, doing whatever will suit him best, the worst of the worst, and yet we love watching him.

Jada Griffin as Goneril is fine, and Matthew Frankel makes some, shall we say, memorable choices as Edgar. Dean Wick's Albany is a real standout, as is Jack Holloway as Kent. Holloway gives the show so much heart and zest, and in the end, he gives the play it's real humanity and grace. His reactions to the sadness, badness and madness around him, even when he doesn't have any lines, help make this KING LEAR so powerful.

Harrison Baxley proves himself solid in the parts of Burgandy and Oswald, and Chase Tomberlin sturdily portrays a variety of roles.

My vote for cast MVP goes to Roxanne Fay, who (there's no other way to say this) saved the play. As we have seen in so many shows this year, both local and Broadway, performances have had to be cancelled due to illness or things of that sort. (There's a reason understudies are so important, especially nowadays; don't let anyone tell you otherwise.) That was about to happen here, when it seemed as though they did not have a Cordelia (usually played by MacKenzie Aaryn); if Tampa Rep didn't have a heroine like Ms. Fay at the ready, then it would prove quite sad, another show shut down for at least one performance. But alas, Ms. Fay is on hand, and she played Cordelia, script onstage but seldom needed, and the show went on beautifully. Yes, we had to suspend our disbelief with her in the role of the youngest daughter, but it's touching to see a professional step into another role with only a few hours' notice and to do so with so much gusto and heart. But to have this happen, you better make sure you have a Roxanne Fay in your cast.

But wait, there's more. Fay also plays the Fool, which turned out to be my favorite character in the show. Ribald, robust, full of verve and honesty, embracing a joy others do not possess, singing and dancing and gyrating, Puckish even, this Fool is a brilliant creation (both by Fay and obviously Shakespeare, who was no fool by adding much-needed humor in one of his darkest plays). You see why the king keeps this Fool around; in some ways, he loves the Fool like he cannot love his daughters. Later in the show, as Lear grows more and more insane, the Fool becomes sicker and sicker. And this is where Fay takes the role into another realm. As the king declines mentally, the Fool physically does as well, coughing, shivering, crouching down Gollum-like and slowly slipping from this mortal coil. It's heartbreaking to watch, like seeing the gradual demise of a favorite pet.

Frank Chavez's minimal set is a creative wonder. Ropes like long strands of hair drape down; this gives us the unsettling feeling of a constant rainstorm, one that never ends. And there are giant stone slabs that at first seem like monolithic gravestones, ominous, predicting the many deaths to come. But when these slabs are spread apart, with a horizontal slab on top of them, they look like part of Stonehenge.

Jo Averill-Snell's lighting is superb, such as the grayness of the thunderstorm that surrounds Lear at his most demented, the reflective rain shimmering on the floor; using only lighting (and Matt Cowley's evocative sound design), the audience feels wet afterwards without getting a drop of liquid on them. Frank Chavez's costume designs (assisted by Jessie Sanoval) work appropriately, though sometimes they have a Jedi-like quality to them. (Is it just me, or in the first scene does Gloucester resemble Obi Wan Kenobi?)

There's a plethora of violence in the show, and fight choreographer Sarah S. Berland gets to stage several thrilling sword fights and deaths.

The artistry of director Connie Lamarca-Frankel (with help from co-director Megan Lamasney) comes through in each scene, in each moment. There are beautiful tableaus, stage pictures, throughout. No matter where you sit there's not a bad seat in the house. I like how, in the opening scene, most of the cast stands on one side of the stage, while the cast-out Cordelia stands alone on the other. The pacing is oftentimes effective, though some scenes did drag and almost grind to a halt. (Akira Kurosawa called his version of KING LEAR Ran; sometimes, in the slower instances, this one could be called Walk.) The show runs just under three hours, but the blackouts, underscored by Igor Santos' effectively eerie music, are quick as we head to the next scene.

But I would be remiss if I did not mention one more name: C. David Frankel. When Frankel passed away from cancer in early March 2020, just a week before the pandemic shut the world (and the world's theatres) down, it was a loss that our local community of artists deeply took to heart. He was the founding director of Tampa Rep, and as indicated by the great shows that Tampa Rep has been producing, his legacy lives on. KING LEAR is dedicated to the loving memory of this amazing soul, one of the kindest people I ever met. But his spirit was there, on the stage and in the audience, and you could feel it. This is why I love theatre so much: The dead never stay dead; art keeps them immortal.

Tampa Rep's production of KING LEAR plays until February 20th at the USF School of Theatre & Dance.

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