As flies to wanton boys are we to th'gods; they kill us for their sport

We saw King Lear yesterday at Bard on the Beach.  It was terrific.  It is such a modern feeling play (as much of Shakespeare is -- I was struck again that Shakespeare knows everything) and the whole scene on the heath with Poor Tom and Lear and the Fool feels just like "Waiting for Godot".  Lear has burned all his bridges and has nowhere to go and neither does Edgar and so they just wait there and rage against the gods and fate and their own madness.  It seemed to speak to some of the places we find ourselves these days -- rage against the unfairness of life (of course, it's unfair), despair, fear of madness.  The question of what to do next -- where to go?  Will we always be alone?  Will we find the strength or the reason to go on?

I have never seen King Lear before so it was wonderful to be able to experience it.  The performances were great, especially Jennifer Lines as Regan, Michael Blake as Edmund, Scott Bellis as the Fool and Benedict Campbell (Douglas Campbell's son) as Lear.  The death scene was so powerful.  Campbell created this lovely image of the soul flying up to the heavens with a fluttering of his own hands -- "and my poor fool is hanged".

The set was well done -- it was wooden and felt medieval and modern at the same time.  There were three levels and when Edgar is deciding to disguise himself as "poor Tom" he climbed through all the ladders right up to the top level, which I don't think they used enough.  I loved it when they shut the gates in the storm and left Lear and his faithful attendants out in the weather, although I wish they could have had something like rain because I think if they are wet, it is all the more terrible to be out in the storm.  I think we really feel it then.

My sons liked it, although William got lost a few times with what was happening but when he whispered what he thought was happening, he was right.  There was some shocking (and for the lads, delicious) gore and some nicely staged sword fights and such beautiful poetry.  Here are two that remind me of "Godot":

Thou must be patient, we came crying hither;
Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air
We waul and cry.

When we are born we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools.

and then this one, that is so thrilling:

Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.

And of course, it wouldn't be Shakespeare if you didn't see it and hear things and think "is that from Shakespeare?" like "last but not least" and things like that.

The other two Shakespeare offerings this season are a steampunk "Comedy of Errors" and a jazz age "Love's Labours Lost" (I don't know this play at all -- I believe I plowed through it once and got very little out of the reading).  Then there's a modern one called "Shakespeare's Rebel" directed by Christopher Gaze himself.  Well, 'nuff said.