Ben Brantley, Aug 5, 2014, NY Times, Review
And it started out as such a lovely evening.
For the first few minutes of Daniel Sullivan’s fast-moving if stiff-jointed production of “King Lear,” which opened at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park on Tuesday night, it’s possible to imagine that tragedy is not waiting in the wings. The mood is unusually festive, and the king, played bya fully immersed John Lithgow, seems like a jolly old soul.
After all, this is his retirement celebration, a time for toasting a new, carefree chapter in life and listening to everybody go on about how wonderful he is. Then Little Miss I-Cannot-Tell-a-Lie has to open her mouth and spoil it all.
“Nothing, my lord,” says the severe Cordelia (Jessica Collins), Lear’s youngest and favorite daughter, when asked what she has to add to the testimonies of her sisters (Annette Bening and Jessica Hecht) about how much they adore their dad. Suddenly, the party’s over, and one really big hangover — the fatal kind — has already set in.
The almost blithe beginning of this “King Lear,” the first version to be staged at this theater since 1973, teasingly matches the holiday mood that theatergoers bring to Shakespeare in the Park. Some people have queued up for hours for the chance to sit under the stars and hear a really good story, told in poetry that sings. Even if it’s tragedy that’s on offer, that doesn’t have to mean ponderousness, does it?
Mr. Sullivan, whose outings at the Delacorte have established him as a sumo master in wrestling irksome Shakespeare behemoths like “The Merchant of Venice” and “All Well’s That Ends Well,” obligingly avoids tediousness. His “Lear” is a forthright affair, unencumbered by high-concept interpolations and exceptionally clear in both its exposition and diction. Set in the Britain of the druids, it has an arresting sense of place, provided by a design team that includes John Lee Beatty (set) and Jeff Croiter (the fabulous transformative lighting).
This “Lear” is always easy to follow, quite an accomplishment, given the preponderance of crossed alliances and alter egos in the plot. And because the lines are so cleanly articulated, you’re especially conscious of the patterns of Shakespeare’s imagery. You could even say that, aside from Mr. Lithgow’s, the performances are so free of interpretive insights that they never get in the way of your own personal reading of the play.
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