A misbegotten King Lear that Glenda Jackson does not redeem.
From the distracting, almost sloppy mishmash of modern costumes by Ann Roth to Miriam Buether’s misguidedly Trumpish golden cube of a set, the production feels aesthetically off-track from the very beginning, somehow both leaden and untethered. Inside this blingy box, Gold is pushing his actors to play for laughs whenever possible—not the deep, shaded laughter that bubbles up naturally as we witness the cruelties and struggles of “this great stage of fools,” but easy chuckles, the kind that pander to an audience and kneecap a text with mistrust. When Jackson’s Lear asks the fateful question of his daughters (“Which of you shall we say doth love us most?”), Goneril (Elizabeth Marvel) rises with a nervous smirk and an extended “Wellllllll” that asks for our giggles before she launches into her line: “I love you more than words can wield the matter.” Never mind that the first word of that line isn’t actually “Well” but “Sir”— anything for a joke.
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