On Reinventing Shakespeare's King Lear
Articles

On any given night within the global theatre community, chances are good that somewhere there is at least one production of a Shakespearean play being performed, and whether it is Hamlet set in Nazi Germany (Eine Klein Hamlet) or The Tempest reworked as children's theatre (The Island of Anyplace), this production is, more often than not, a new interpretation of the ancient text. While the average audience member may never have heard of modern masters like Albee, Beckett, or Chekov, no matter their station in life or how far away we get from the Elizabethan era, they have heard of William Shakespeare. Moreover, there are theatre practitioners who dedicate the entirety of their careers to the performing or directing of his plays. Still others establish careers around teaching and writing about Shakespeare. Some consider Shakespeare to be the gauge by which all other theatre is measured. We know this, but because of sheer fanaticism, Shakespeare's plays have been, and are, a key center of invention and debate.

Perhaps of all of Shakespeare's plays The Tragedy of King Lear has received the most scholarly debate and bold reinterpretation, often to the point of complete reinvention, throughout theatrical history. The tragedy was first performed in 1605 or at the end of 1606 depending on the source. The earliest printed version of the play appears in the First Quarto of 1608. This account stands in direct contrast to the Folio of 1623. While each document contains the essential text of the play, the variants make additions and deletions to the details of the play. For example, in Act III, scene 6, much of the "mock trial" included in the Quarto is deleted in the Folio. Such variations run throughout the play forcing potential editors and directors to decide which version that they should adopt.

Today scholars are constantly clashing over this issue of a true, definitive text. What makes up the true Lear? Is the Quarto the true product of Shakespeare's hand, or is the Folio closer to the author's intent. In an attempt to make sense of the matter, Professor Jay L. Halio of the University of Delaware maintains, in his 1992 edition, that the Quarto serves as a better representation of how Shakespeare pictured the text as he was writing it. Conversely, the Folio is indicative of how an actual staged production of the play would have appeared (xiii). Therefore, a value judgement must be made. What is more important, Shakespeare's original intent as he was writing or a true account of a performance? Perhaps, an inquiry as to the purpose of the play will dictate the answer. Did Shakespeare write the play as a closet drama or did he intend for the play to see production before an audience. Obviously, the latter is true. This does not take much thought, for Shakespeare made his living in the theatre, not in the bookstore. With this in mind, the folio would be more valuable as it is congruent with the author's purpose. While this logic is valid, there is one assumptive problem. This course of thought necessitates that the scholar must choose one or the other, either the Quarto of the Folio.

Alternately, there is another school of thought, from which, according to Halio, scholars are seemingly distancing themselves, that says that in order to find the true intention of Shakespeare, one must combine the Quarto and Folio into one master text adding every excerpt unique to both volumes (xiii). Indeed, the result is a seemingly more exhaustive script. Sadly, however, the result is a wordy, if somewhat redundant version. No doubt, it is a version that a director would have a hard time producing upon the stage. Clearly, the only way for a director or an editor to be content is to cull through both texts in order to pick and choose those portions that reinforce his/her overall vision for the play. To cite an instance, if a director wishes to delay Lear's display of madness s/he will choose the Folio depiction of Act III, scene 6. This removal of some 35 lines allows Lear more time to build up to his inevitable outward display of insanity.

Historically, the inevitable conflict between a director's ambition for a show and the author's original intent has always been a precarious struggle. Some dramatists, Neil Simon for instance, actually add statements to the legal notes of their scripts explicitly warning against making any cuts or other alterations to the script for any reason. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately depending on your stance, Shakespeare's plays are not under such a mandate. Do to this, Shakespearean theatre, as with other public domain theatre, has been, and is, subject to radical reinterpretation and even rewriting. The first recorded account of such a reinvention of King Lear occurred roughly 76 years after the first Lear production.

Nahum Tate, an Irish born playwright and after 1692, poet laureate of Britain, rewrote the classic tragedy in 1681, in order to satisfy the tastes of his post-restoration audience. Tate called Shakespeare's script, "A heap of jewels, unstrung and unpolisht; yet so dazling in their disorder" (Partee 1). In "polishing" the play, Tate consulted both the Folio and Quarto. He reworked Shakespeare's language, reshaped the entire plot, and added and deleted characters. In order to fill the audience, and thus fill his pockets, Tate remarkably restored the happy ending to the play. I say restored because the "Myth of King Lier" ends happily. The myth is the source from which scholars widely agree Shakespeare adapted The Tragedy of King Lear. In Tate's version, Cordelia and Edgar fall in love at the end of the play. This does prove one thing; audiences have scarcely changed since the seventeenth century. In addition, he deleted the Fool and added Arante, Cordelia's friend. The reinvention was a success. Tate's version thrilled audiences for the next 150 years. However, later, Tate would be heavily criticized for his innovation.

Skipping a few centuries and productions of Lear by such theatrical heavy weights as David Garrick, John Phillip Kemble, and Edwin Booth, just to name a few, there have been numerous bold interpretations of the tragedy in the modern era. In 1955, director George Devine teamed up with designer Isamu Noguchi in Stratford-on-Avon to create a highly modern staging of the play with Sir John Gielgud playing the title role. Noguchi created a unique atmosphere in designing the show. The costumes, according to Halio, were "grotesque" cloaks full of holes,
and the set was made up of mobile geometric formations (44). In Noguchi's words, "Sometimes the action would start with the sets moving in, to continue and move out as the pieces likewise travel across the stage" (1). While the set design was indeed notable and revolutionary, the actual performance lacked impact. Gielgud once remarked that Noguchi's costumes "killed the actors' efforts to act in them" (Billington 1). In general, this is the consensus of critics. The set and costumes were outstanding, brilliant even. However, their presence distracted from the actors' performances.

Later, in 1962, legendary British director Peter Brook devised a production that is, as Halio pronounces it, "the most widely discussed and influential post-war production of King Lear" (50). Following closer to the Folio than the Quarto, Brook did as I suggested earlier. He culled
through the versions in search of a script that underscored his vision, a seething violent rendition. Thus, the director molded the script to his will as opposed to bending himself around the author's intent. Some might find this type of selective cutting disgraceful or even dishonest in that it seems to betray Shakespeare's aim. However, realize that the Quarto and Folio are but careful cuttings of a larger forgotten text as well. Shakespeare has all but given full acquiescence to the modern director to cut and paste at will. Also, take note that if directors abided only by the author's intent, in this situation or with any script, there would be little reason for a play to ever be staged past its debut. Brook crafted a script that possesses characters who embody a state of "moral neutrality" (Halio 51). The obvious villains are no more deceitful or depraved than the supposed heroes. In this production, as with other Brook shows such as The Marat/Sade, the audience is forced to make judgements for themselves about the characters, and these judgements are not easy decisions to make. For example, Brook's Lear earns his doom. Therefore, the audience is trapped at the play's conclusion. Do they pity the man, or do they nod their heads to his ultimate punishment? Can they do both? Brook's show provides merely questions, no answers. In addition, his version displays an obvious Brechtian approach. This can be seen in the plain leather clothing and stark sets. Brook writes in his book The Empty Space, "Shakespeare is a model of theatre that contains Brecht and Beckett, but goes beyond both," and, "The absence of scenery in the Elizabethan theatre was one of its greatest freedoms " (86).

Another of its greatest freedoms, at least of Shakespearean theatre, is, as I alluded earlier, the adaptability of Shakespeare's plays and apparent license that he gives theatre practitioners. Realize that this notion is a matter of great contention among scholars. On one side, the purists demand that the "sacred" playwright's work be given the same deference that a priest grants the Bible. No word shall be changed, cut, or added lest plaques be brought upon the offender's household. Across the table from the purists sit those who believe that Shakespearean texts exist in order to be twisted in every direction imaginable. Like all things, the answer resides somewhere in the middle. There is a limit to how far one can cut and twist a play before it becomes a new text altogether. As previously discussed, Tate's version cannot be thought of as an alternative interpretation of Shakespeare's play. Rather, the 1681 rewrite is a separate play no matter how much the two resemble each other. Similarly, playwright Edward Bond, in an attempt to emphasize, among other things, the Lear's violence and cruelty, rewrote the tragedy in 1971. He calls his rewrite simply Lear. In defense of his play, Bond said, "An unjust society must be violent" (Halio 57). His Lear takes place in the modern era, for Bond views the modern society as unjust. In writing the script, Bond forces a play nearly 400 years old to become extremely applicable to our modern society. Essentially, he parallels Shakespeare who also reinvented a story in order to make it significant to his era.

Overall, The Tragedy of King Lear is a play that has been taken in every direction imaginable. It has seen rewrites and reinvention since its very conception. With all of this, the question arises: Is there anywhere left to go with the play, or are we doomed for eternity to view productions that merely costume the cast from a different era with every new revival? Moreover, is there a true text of King Lear to be had, and if so, must that "holy" text stand as the sole embodiment of the play? At what point does Shakespeare's legacy take over in order to prevent a new interpretation from marring the playwright's script? More importantly, should visionaries even consider Shakespeare's legacy at all? These are questions that deserve to be asked. Although, admittedly, it is doubtful that they will ever fully be answered.

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