Shakespeare’s infamous tragedy is significantly thinned down and reinterpreted into a one hour wordless anti-war allegory by Ramesh Meyyappan, but retains a raw power and delicate beauty and some rather unexpected humour that make it a thoroughly watchable and thought provoking addition to the Lear genre.
This Lear has a worldly feel and international backing, a production by Glasgow based Raw Material in association with National Theatre for Scotland and Singapore National Festival of Arts, it looks made to tour extensively. In the hands of writer and performer Meyyappan and acclaimed director Orla O’Loughlin, we see and feel the effects of war on a father returning from the battlefield and his three daughters.
The returning king of the household is welcomed with initial relief and outpourings of love from the daughters, cups of tea and fawning obedience, but this is soon replaced by fear and uncertainty in the household as his altered state presents itself.
Unable to hear apparently, and in a state of escalating PTSD altering from cowering wreck to clowning mania, Meyyappan is eventually medicated by the daughters into a state of zombie-like degradation. The fall from grace to madness to complete impotence, sponsored by big pharma in this version.
The motivations of the three colour-coded daughters is always questionable, are they medicating their father for his benefit or for theirs, and this plays on themes of care and assisted dying which have dominated the news recently. The portrayal of the three siblings is rather wonderfully handled by Nicole Cooper, Amy Kennedy and Draya Maria, loving on the surface but Machiavellian just below.
David Paul Jones’s wonderfully schizophrenic score underpins the whole production – it is after all the only sound – it jumps from extreme tenderness to fear and frustration, beautifully choreographed to the movement, from flowing piano to monastic chimes to intermittent war radio static bursts which signify Meyyappan’s impending PTSD outbursts.
Three chairs, three daughters and three piles of sandbags create a tight circle around the often stage-centre father, whose claustrophobia is only heightened by the dropped lighting rig which hovers just above his head, nine powerful spotlights pinning him in place. Ultimately, there is only one option left to him.
The beauty of this piece is that you really don’t need to know anything about the original Lear to fully appreciate the messages it contains, and the portrayal of mental degradation, family, love and care, anger and betrayal will echo for audiences around the world, which is where I expect this is going. Catch it while you can.
Reviewer: Greg Holstead
Reviewed: 5th June 2025
North West End UK Rating:
Running time – 1hr
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