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Reviewed by:
  • King Lear
  • Kelli Ann Skinner
King Lear Presented by the Classical Theatre of Harlem at the Folger Shakespeare Library, Washington, D.C. January 11-February 18, 2007. Directed by Alfred Preisser. Scenic design by Troy Hourie. Costumes by Kimberly Glennon. Lighting by Aaron Black. With Duane Allen (Burgundy), Jerome Preston Bates (Kent), Danyon Davis (Edgar), André DeShields (Lear), Chantal Jean Pierre (Goneril),Ty Jones (Edmund), Ian Lockhart (France), Shayshahn MacPherson (Musician), Francis Mateo (Cornwall), Christina Sajouo (Cordelia), Ken Schatz (Fool), Todd Scofield (Albany), Zuanna Sherman (Oswald), Deidra Le Wan Starnes (Regan), Harold Surratt (Gloucester), JJ Area (messenger), and others.

In conjunction with Washington D.C.'s six-month-long "Shakespeare in Washington" celebration and the Folger Shakespeare Library's 75th anniversary, the Folger Theatre presented King Lear, co-produced by the Classical Theatre of Harlem. Alfred Preisser reflected the Folger's theme this year, "Shakespeare in American Life," demonstrating the adaptability of Britain's national poet in America through the costumes, staging, and set design of a King Lear set in Mesopotamia and performed by a nearly all-black cast.

The bright colors and gold jewelry of Lear's royal court—as well as the ornate crown and apron that distinguished Lear as king—revealed, from the first scene, the play's Persian setting. (Interestingly, the Fool's costume, the only deviation from the Mesopotamian garb, was that of a traditional English court jester.) But as Lear, played by André DeShields, deteriorated through the play, so did the costumes. Toward the end of the play, the desolate Lear, reunited with Cordelia, also stripped of her former glory, wore rust-colored linen pants, a crown of raffia, and moss draped across his chest. At his lowest, Lear cast off his robe altogether and stood center stage naked (except for a g-string), beating his chest. Throughout the play, the focus on physique, not the costumes, seemed oddly appropriate to a play obsessed with nothing and (the nothingness of) excess.

Particular emphasis was placed on the physical and the audible in the story and in this adaptation specifically. The entire cast's athleticism was flaunted in the staging of this production. Edmund did back flips while crowing about his shape being "as true" as Edgar's. In his "thankless child" harangue, the already-histrionic Lear screamed at Cordelia as he was carried off the stage. Through the storm, Lear carried on his back the small but limber Fool, who occasionally somersaulted across stage or was lifted on the shoulders of other players. Kent carried an exhausted Lear off the stage after he, in a mad fit, stabbed and killed the Fool. And a lifeless Cordelia, armored like a Roman soldier, was placed by Lear on a wooden platform, after she fought three soldiers at once during a long, [End Page 93] choreographed battle scene at the end of the play. During this battle scene, the musician descended from the balcony to pound a deafening drum beat. Another loud drum beat, mimicking a heartbeat, was also heard while Lear stood alone during the storm. This primal beat, as well as Lear's nakedness, were appropriate gestures for a King Lear set in Mesopotamia, the supposed birthplace of civilization.


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Figure 1.

From left to right, Christina Sajous (Cordelia), André De Shields (Lear), and ensemble in Classical Theatre of Harlem's King Lear. Photo by Scott Suchman.

The movement of the staging in this version of Lear necessitated a minimalist set. To compensate, all parts of the theatre constituted the stage, including the balconies, the theatre entrance, the aisles, and the audience. Edmund's pulling an audience member into the aisle to answer "Which [sister] shall I take? Both? one? or neither?" provided comic relief. But when Lear climbed over multiple rows of seated audience members to the aisle during his speech about "feeling what wretches feel," this rare moment of empathy, unfortunately, elicited only giggles from the audience. The audience chuckled as Lear held an audience member's face in his hands and declared, "O, I have ta'en too little care of this!" and this usually serious self-reflection turned silly.

A pattern...

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