It is one thing to go to the theater and have a good time, with solid acting, great songs, and have the satisfaction that comes from a good night out.
But to find yourself in the presence of a master of the craft, whose grasp of Shakespeare’s language is profound, whose very presence onstage is magisterial, is the rarest of gifts. This, dear friends, is what you will find onstage within the friendly confines of the Blackfriars Playhouse in Staunton, Virginia.
King Lear is very much a tragedy for our times: the tale of a monarch who chooses flattery over true loyalty, with truly horrific results. Tough times call for a tough Lear, and we have one here: Angela Iannone has shown herself, time and again, to be an artist whose understanding of the Bard has a visceral truth to it, and often heart-breakingly so. Solid as Gibraltar, as a King Lear for the ages, she owns the stage, and the house itself is her noble realm.
This, simply put, is how it’s done.
This, simply put, is what must be seen.
Iannone has found a remarkable balance between Lear’s egotism and insouciance; her Lear isn’t some doddering old fool in early dementia (why on earth some prominent actors make that choice with their Lear plumb evades me) but a narcissist whose conversion isn’t so much toward madness as it is toward clarity, a deeper understanding of life’s fragility.
What’s truly refreshing, in the opening scene, is the way Iannone allows the audience to have a good laugh at Lear’s expense. Given the pathetic competition between Goneril and Regan in the sappy “Who Loves Daddy Mostest?” contest, we all know what’s about to transpire, and Lear of course is the last to know. We can laugh, knowing full well what Lear does not. But as the action proceeds, and the betrayals start to mount, we are also witness to some of the most harrowing denunciations ever uttered on any stage. When Lear condemns Goneril to sterility, the force of Iannone’s delivery makes you seriously fear for that young woman’s health.
The rage and fury Lear displays, as both Goneril and Regan proceed to strip Lear of everything, is pre-ordained and well done. What takes skill, however, is to move from rage to realization, and it is here that the genius begins to show itself. For later, in the aftermath of Lear’s complete dispossession, we find Iannone discoursing discreetly with a fly on the subject of sex — silly, but ever so poignant.
This Lear gets it; too late, but this Lear gets it.
What also makes the American Shakespeare Center’s current production of King Lear well worth the visit is the way that director Paul Mason Barnes has exploited the play’s constant switching between tragedy and farce. Shakespeare wasn’t into one long schlep to the grave; he knew we could take only so much of that doom and gloom, so he made a point of inserting a comic routine or three to ease the burden of what we know is yet to come.
Complementing Iannone’s remarkable gifts, we have Blake Henri as Kent, the ally who goes undercover to look after Lear’s safety. His conversion from sober policy wonk to merry prankster is smoothly done, and once his English yeoman avatar is fully constructed (as it were), we can follow his antics with great delight.
Another undercover agent, so to speak, is Edgar, played here with a towering passion by Rasell Holt. Falsely accused by his half-brother Edmund of plotting against his father, the Earl of Gloucester, Edgar is forced to become “Poor Tom,” and the scene of Edgar’s disguising has overtones that should be seen to be fully appreciated.
Gloucester himself, as played by Christopher Seiler, is — like Lear — hardly an innocent bystander; you wince as he openly introduces Edmund as his bastard son, whose mother gave him a good ride but little more. As for Edgar’s scheming bastard brother Edmund, Joe Mucciolo is every inch the slimy villain, deadly attractive to the wrong kind of ladies — and Regan and Goneril clearly both have eyes for him, to their last breath.
The script for this production dispenses with the husbands, which is something of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, we get to see Lear’s evil daughters as they saw themselves — not as mere pawns in the old man’s dynastic politics but as political actors in their own right. On the other hand, this also removes the one speech that Lear’s third daughter, Cordelia, had, which would have shown her backbone and her pragmatism. As a result, the quietly charismatic Charlene Hong White has less to do here than I would have liked.
But back to the evil ones: Leah Gabriel (Goneril) and Raven Lorraine (Regan) do a fine dance at the beginning, and their flattering public speeches for Lear were obviously well rehearsed. Hardly surprising, either, that they proceed to take turns seeing who can most humiliate the old man. Both, moreover, have eyes for Edmund as their boy-toy; and when it appears that Edmund’s father might be plotting against them, Regan takes the prize for villainy when she gouges Gloucester’s eyes out in revenge. (I’ll take my toast with butter, thanks very much.)
Rounding out the cast is Summer England, as Lear’s Fool, the sharp-witted, punny, allusive, evasive wordsmith who knows exactly what is happening even when Lear can’t buy a clue. As an all-permitted fool, she gets to critique Lear’s every thought, and top it. Here, the Fool is Lear’s anchor, and Summer does the fine dance of honesty, delivered just obliquely enough that it isn’t seen as open criticism. A fine dance that, perhaps, a few of us might want to make a study of for the near future.
The festivities are livened, as always, by a few hit songs; Summer England kicks things off with Rosemary Clooney’s rousing classic “This Ole House,” while Blake Henri and Charlene Hong White chime in with Tears for Fears’ moving ballad “Mad House,” followed later by The Head and The Heart’s “Rivers and Roads,” a somber reflection on emptiness and departures. Christopher Seiler does a fine job with the old Beatles’ favorite “Fool on the Hill” (I mean, what else is more fitting?), the songs here striking the same balance as the play, between upbeat and dark.
This production of King Lear, great acting aside, has lessons for us all as we muddle through very confusing, troubled times of our own, when professions of loyalty often hide the deepest deceits and quiet loyalty, unexpressed, is left unattended. May we survive these times long enough to watch this show as a mere historical curiosity, and not the warning it now has become.
Running Time: Two hours and 30 minutes, including one intermission.
King Lear plays through April 19, 2025, in repertory with Little Women (through April 19) and The Comedy of Errors (March 20 to April 20), presented by American Shakespeare Center at the Blackfriars Playhouse, 10 South Market Street, Staunton, VA. For tickets (starting at $36), call the box office at (540) 851-3400 or purchase them online. ASC also offers a Local Rush deal of 50% off tickets on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Learn more here.
Cast and artistic team credits for King Lear are online here (scroll down).
Age requirement: 7 and up.
King Lear by William Shakespeare
Directed by Paul Mason Barnes
SEE ALSO:
‘Little Women’ at American Shakespeare Center is a heartfelt story for us all (review by Andrew Walker White, February 14, 2025)
