Lear’s Shadow. Jack Studio Theatre.

At the centre of Shakespeare’s King Lear sit the issues of identity and self-knowledge. Can you remain a monarch if you have given away your kingdom to your ungrateful daughters? The king’s Fool, inner conscience to his master, believes not. In response to Lear’s interrogation, “Does any here know me?… Who is it that can tell me who I am?” the Fool replies, “Lear’s shadow”. Shorn of power, realm, and dignity, with his grip on reality slipping away, Lear becomes a mere semblance of his former regal self: appearance without substance.

Colin Hurley’s Lear’s Shadow (not to be confused with at least two other plays, a film, and a novel which share the same title) attempts to interrogate the king’s persona in a cut down, one-man version of King Lear. If Andrew Scott can do it with Vanya and Sarah Snook with The Picture of Dorian Gray why on earth should Hurley, who is a very fine Shakespearean actor, not do it with Lear?

Having played in 20 productions at Shakespeare’s Globe (including Sir Toby Belch in Twelfth Night at The Globe, in the West End and on Broadway), Hurley certainly knows his Bard. Opinions will vary as to how much more of Lear’s identity this compressed production reveals than a blowout RSC version might but, for Shakespeare fans at least, there is much fun to be had on the way.

Hurley plays Lear as a homeless indigent in the midst of a full-blown psychotic episode. Barefoot, wild-eyed, more or less swallowed up by straggly beard and messy hair, clad in long johns and a dirty grey dressing gown, this is a man who has long since lost any connection with reality. He rants to himself, creates serpent-like finger puppets our of scarves to represent imaginary daughters, plays with plastic toy soldiers, and periodically thumps himself on the chest as if to reassure himself of his physical existence.

At one point late in the show’s 70-minutes Hurley’s listens in on a tape of his own conversation with Cordelia, giving inner voice to words that are dementedly indecipherable in the recorded version. The feel is of a drama unfolding entirely within the confines of this deranged character’s head. “I am cut to the brains” he says, and he means it. This monarch begins deranged and ends stark raving mad. Be warned, he even bares his bum.

Director Ben Crystal adds in some welcome comedic physical theatre in the storm scenes. The audience provide the blustery soundtrack through egg shakers and tambourines, while a hand-held plant mister delivers the rain. Occasionally one feels this is an actor workshopping how to play Lear in the West End. One suspect it would prove a very fine production indeed.

Writer: Colin Hurley

Director: Ben Crystal