(Mark Lawson’s article appeared in the Guardian; From emperor to king … Ian McDiarmid as Lear at the Crucible theatre. Photograph: Johan Persson)
Crucible theatre, Sheffield
The 82-year-old actor gives a performance of absolute authenticity and clarity as the erratic demagogue in a uniformly impressive production
The word “nothing” is spoken four times in four lines in the opening scene of King Lear, among 30 uses across the play. This feels the key to Titus Halder’s Sheffield Crucible staging, which really makes something of nothingness, crowned by an unusually age-appropriate performer as the “fourscore and upward” English king: 82-year-old Ian McDiarmid.
The dark pit of Richard Kent’s design might be a nuclear after-blast. Like Peter Brook’s mid 20th-century stage and film versions, in a previous era of existentialist international tension, the interpretation radiates terminal uncertainty. Characters address pleas and prayers to “the gods” in the direction identified with heaven but with a growing knowing that nothing is there.
It is also clear that the kingdom Lear ruinously tries to divide between his three daughters is already past its rule-by date, probably due to his eccentric leadership. In a moment of apparent clarity during his mental decline, Lear says, “I will be jovial”, and this often unremarked line seems the base note to McDiarmid’s titanic performance.
Fode Simbo as Edmund and Katie Wimpenny as Goneril. Photograph: Johan Persson
Giggling dirtily when speculating about his daughters having “issue”, he grins manically out of sync with situations. His threat to inflict “terrors” on the world even though he “does not know yet” what they are is not, as often, the forgetfulness of dementia but political bullshitting that wins a knowing laugh from the audience. Leaving his court unsure what he will say or do next, the erratic head of state is also transactional, giving real chill to the dismissal of the banished Cordelia: “Her price has fallen.”
But, while it might be no surprise if this Lear suddenly imposed tariffs on France, the portrait of power is much broader: this demagogue, unfashionably, admits fault and reaches forgiveness.
The acting paradox of Lear is that the textual extreme physical frailty must co-exist with the ability to carry Cordelia’s corpse and the vocal depth to serve the dense poetry. Because of this, middle-aged actors are often cast.
birth-date realism raises obvious risks, McDiarmid perfectly combines bodily authenticity (the problem of transporting the dead daughter cleverly sidestepped) with absolute verbal clarity on the required range from explosion to self-reflective emotion. When Lear’s heart broke, so did mine.
