We¹ saw Lear at the California Shakespeare Theatre². Capitalism and unresolved grief³ kills⁴ almost everyone. The performances⁵ were stellar (go see this show to see Sam Jackson⁶, Jomar Tagatac⁷, and Cathleen Ridley)⁸, and the staging was beautiful (get the cheap seats — you’ll see it better⁹). The music and sound design had some solid moments¹⁰ overall felt inconsistent and unfinished¹¹ (it’s a big ask to score a three-hour show¹²). The wigs were gorgeous¹³ and everyone important who died died offstage¹⁴. Though billed as a translation and adaptation, it is much more of a translation¹⁵ than adaptation¹⁶. It’s Marcus Gardley translating and tweaking Shakespeare¹⁷, not Marcus Gardley remaking Shakespeare. Go in with that expectation, but do go, and soon, because the run ends October 2nd.

¹ We are Erin Bregman and Julius Rea. Welcome to our collaborative review! (EB & JR)

² Opening night, Wednesday September 14th. I park in the dirt lot at the bottom of the hill and walk up the path toward the amphitheater with a bag of picnic food, warm hat, fleece, and jacket. Snagging a picnic table near the bar, I pull on a jacket and enjoy a pre-show dinner alongside other early arrivals. Off to my left, folks gather to listen to a pre-show talk (I can’t quite hear what it’s about), while off to my right fellow picnickers stand at the edge of the clearing trying to catch a glimpse of the pack of coyotes howling in the hills somewhere. It’s a pre-show party atmosphere — everyone seems to be running into someone they know. It’s Cal Shakes Artistic Director Eric Ting’s last night on the job, and once we’re all seated and bundled up against the incoming fog his pre-show speech is repeatedly interrupted by spontaneous audience shout-outs of ‘We love you, Eric!’ and ‘Thank you, Eric!’ He receives a standing ovation, the lights go down, and the show begins. (EB)

It was beautiful to see a diverse audience of theatre lovers, family and friends of the cast, Cal Shakes staffers, and patrons alike. Since there was a beautiful hum when entering the space and seeing Ting’s final opening house speech as his time as Artistic Director, we noticed that this show works best with an audience ready to be emotionally and verbally expressive. (JR)

³ This was the first piece of theater I have seen since 2020, and I carried a great deal of grief into the show with me — a grief for a previous version of my life that I have been riding the waves of for the better part of 2022. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one in the audience to walk in carrying something similar. I’ve seen versions of Lear before, read it and re-read it, but what I walked in with this time made moments of the story feel far more personally resonant than I’d expected, and I found myself watching the last third of the show and thinking: What is loss, really? What are the limits of what it can do to us? How do we remain ourselves as we move through it, or can we, or do we even want to? How much of a former self can be srtipped away and still let us retain a solid sense of who we are? What is and isn’t changeable about a self? And does tapping into that unchangeable part help us through grief, or is it the holding onto it too tightly that makes grief so hard? I don’t know any of the answers, but I think any piece of theater that leads me to think these things while I watch it is succeeding as a work of art. (EB)

⁴ And yet there is no blood in this show, a much appreciated choice as it shifts the story’s most violent acts away from a gritty reality and serves as one of the productions’ many layered reminders that we are all there together to watch a retelling of an old story unfold on this stage, now, tonight. (EB)

⁵ It was clear the entire cast was talented and perfectly suited for their roles. While the entire performance is anchored by James A. Williams’ powerfully erratic Lear, the performances surrounding the titular character are of note. Kenny Scott hilariously mastered the jumbling and juggling of multiple roles (and deaths), Leontyne Mbele-Mbong and Emma Van Lare’s prudish rivalry to succeed their father punctuated many scenes, and Velina Brown’s Black Queen injected a necessary sexy, soulful, and nostalgic tone throughout the piece. Actually, this entirely new character—the ghost of Lear's wife and queen—also served as the jazz club singer we didn’t know we needed. (JR)

⁶ While Jackson’s Cordelia is a bright spot in the story, her turn as The Comic was masterful. Her ability to create a Showtime-at-the-Apollo-esque stand-up comedian (ready to be one of the smartest and slyest on stage) is stunning and hilarious to watch. Her transformation between the two roles makes for the wonderful experience of squinting at an actor and thinking: “I know it’s you again, the program told me it would be you, but is it really? How have you done that!?” (JR & EB)

⁷ As bastard-son Edmund, Tagatac is hilarious, horny, and hell-bent on taking over this kingdom by killing, framing, or fucking anyone who gets in his way. In short, he is remarkable to watch. Not only that, but he makes you love, understand, and root for him by the end too. (JR & EB)

⁸ Ridley lit up the stage as a gender-bent Kent, the scorned yet dutiful aide to the king. She proves to light up any stage she touches with an immense amount of heart and humor that is difficult to forget. (JR)

⁹ For this production, Dawn Monique Williams and Ting’s direction places their players in beautiful tableaus and portraits across the stage—sometimes with many actors lounging and watching the drama unfold. In fact, Tanya Orellana’s massive three-level set is a wonder to see. However, in order to view the entire connection between set, performance, and direction, you should sit further back. Traditionally, anyone would want to be as close to the action as possible. In this case, the cheap seats allow you to understand and appreciate the entire vision of the show. This is a show that, from the beginning, invites us in and reminds us that it knows we’re there. While sitting in the rear side seats, there are excellent views of front row audience members’ faces opposite. It’s a rare treat to be able to watch actors and audience at the same time, and know not just the sound of an audience member laughing, but get to see what their face looks like as a joke lands, and how it changes when the tragedy hits. (JR & EB)

¹⁰ The deep low rumbling that’s so subtle you almost don’t notice it’s there, but it still tenses every muscle as the tension builds. A simple bowed string line that reminds you to breathe. (EB)

¹¹ Sometimes the music (by Marcus Shelby) and sound design (by Elton Bradman) lean into the emotional beat of the moment, and sometimes they play against it. Sometimes they do neither, and feel like a distraction. Why, for example, include pre-recorded anything when you have live musicians onstage? Each use of pre-recorded sound felt like a rule break in the world of storytelling. (EB)

¹² Honestly, this is the production’s main issue. Even though this is a translation as opposed to an adaptation, the actors must keep the pace as quick as their characters’ wits. You may notice any normal pause—that could occur in live theatre naturally—feeling longer while you take in the transitions as performers scale the three-level set and move through the audience seats. Despite the long ride, the innate beauty of the production and the interesting performances keep the production grounded. Also, they offer blankets if it gets too cold so…be patient. (JR)

¹³ There should be special attention and applause for Hair/Wig and Makeup Designer Cherelle D. Guyton, who created many, if not all, wigs for the show. Every moment that you are able to see the intricate, delicate, and intentional wig and hair design was heart-touching. As Black culture and identity is so attached to hair, it’s beautiful to see the several “crowns” in the show treated with such unique care. (JR)

¹⁴ The showcasing of Black death and pain for primarly-white audiences has been a constant discussion over the past few years. With the exponential documentation of the murder and pain of Black bodies on our newsfeeds and screens, it’s always important to ask if this imagery is as necessary in theatre, arts and entertainment. While the play challenges audiences to honor Black history by watching and recognizing a certain amount of Black pain, this can actually be a chore for Black and other audience members who find this a daily reality. It can be a difficult experience to watch as Lear threatens his daughters with financial abuse before going insane and living in an encampment. Additionally, while this “mad” Lear can be highly comical for some audience members (screaming and failing with a new crown made from sticks and found objects), seeing several houseless Black people can be more triggering than engaging. Even though it’s notable that no Black women die on stage, the balance between theatrical humor and systemic tragedy can feel like walking on a tightwire. (JR)

¹⁵ As a translation, it was interesting to see the overall vision of the show—placing it in The FIllmore in 1969. While it was funny to see how Lear’s kingdom gets revised across the San Francisco Bay Area (and the ever consistent jabs at Hayward), it was more interesting to see how some of the characters translated. For example, Ridley’s Kent—now a woman—delivers a soulful and realistic comment on the role of Black women to “pick up all the pieces.” (But honestly, you should be shouting for her favor long before then.) More notably is the transition of Dane Troy’s Edgar, the framed son of Gloucester forced to go into hiding. This character laments that, due to general cowardice when interacting with the Black Panther Party, he takes on the name and mantle of Tom—as in Uncle. For anyone aware of the epithet, it’s a swift jab to the heart. There should be a special consideration for Troy’s performance as he attempts to explore a moniker that has plagued the African-American community. Overall, the translation does not (and maybe shouldn’t) answer a key question: do Black bodies need to perform white narratives of violence? When Black actors are cast almost exclusively in all roles of a traditionally-white narrative, there is a struggle if they take over or fall victim to these atrocities. Repeating a previous point, capitalism and unresolved grief kills almost everyone—however, the tone of this changes when Black and Brown bodies adhere to such vicious acts. (JR)

¹⁶ Unfortunately, this production must contend with any audience expectation from Gardley’s Black Odyssey, which was a massive hit when it landed on the Cal Shakes stage. Following a similar situation with Cal Shakes’ previous show, Romeo y Juliet, it can be slightly jarring for an audience member to expect an adaptation—even when you read the word “translation” on the program. Hopefully, fans of Gardley and Cal Shakes patrons will be encouraged to see this uniquely beautiful show to experience Shakespearen texts and other classics—or not. (JR)

¹⁷ Which he does so deftly that the text has many moments that feel simultaneously like original Shakespeare and like 1969 San Francisco. Gardley somehow manages to keep the poetry, rhythm, sense, humor, and tragedy of Shakespeare’s language, while also giving the performers a text that lends itself to a natural, modern, simple delivery without a distracting level of modernisms. It takes a virtuosic ear to write a piece that seamlessly weaves together heightened Shakespearean-like language, modern colloquialisms, and lines from the original play without it ever feeling gimmicky or overworked. Overall, the modern take makes this play both understandable and digestible, for many audiences. (EB & JR)