Alongside Hamlet, King Lear is one of the megaliths of the Western dramatic canon,
regarded by Percy Bysshe Shelley as “the most perfect specimen of the dramatic
art existing in the world.” Often cited as being sublime and universal, it is
also extremely nihilistic, a bleak portrait of despair, a Bacon-like scream
into the abyss. Known
for his acute observations of humanity and generosity in directing, Neil
Armfield’s work embraces the epic and intimate all at once, and so it was
with great expectations and an almost-equal dose of trepidation that I entered
his production of King
Lear for Sydney Theatre
Company. The only trouble is, it
isn’t really that compelling at all.