Lear's Daughters

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Lear's Daughters

Before you can understand Learís Daughters, you sort of have to know a little about King Lear (see review). This totally fictitious ìprequelî is updated and revamped, using modern English set in an indeterminate time frame.

Author Elaine Feinstein first penned her ideas for this tale in 1989 in London, and undoubtedly it has gone through some editing and revamping and now that Counter Productions and Theatre Planners got their hands on it, they are bringing it to the Complex for a short run.

Set designer Scott Butler arranged a collection of furniture and props in the spirit of Mid-Modern American Tacky, around which the three daughters play out their childhood and adolescence, costumed in Early Madonna Floozy, sometimes wearing lingerie, sometimes bed clothes, sometimes slips but never defiling the floor with shoes. Itís not clear why director PJ Hammond chose this wardrobe . . . but, itís different.

Cordelia, Regan and Goneril are raised by a mother whoís always too exhausted to love them, a Nurse whoís too distant to care and a father (who really wanted boys), who is too busy to notice them.

The court jester, Fool, is always around too, but nobody pays attention, because . . . well, who listens to a fool? The girls grow up, semi-loved, semi scared and totally screwed up and even Cordelia, the favorite, has some issues. There is even an oblique hint of incest by Lear towards her, although itís never clear. The fact that Cordelia walks around wearing a see-through teddy has nothing to do with the way her father looks at her. Cordelia knows sheís the favorite, Goneril knows as the oldest, she will probably inherit the throne, and poor Regan is all twisted up, hating both sisters, and growing up with deep resentment at being the number two child.

Behind subtle references to Learís infidelity, the suspicion that Nurse is really Cordeliaís mother, and the death of Learís wife, the kingdom is literally going to hell. Goneril assumes the caretaker role held by the mother, but things continue to spiral. Regan gets pregnant, but decides to abort, and Goneril figures out the only way to save the kingdom, is for the sisters to marry wealthy lords. Cordelia is just plain confused and canít seem to express herself clearly.

This set up fits neatly into Shakespeareís opening, when Lear demands to know in open court, which one of the three loves him the most. Those who remember, will recall the eloquent speeches given by Goneril and Regan, and the miserable showing by Cordelia.

As commentator Paul Harvey says, now you know, ìthe rest of the story!î

But the real story here is Fool. Beth Fisher is absolutely a knockout as the bouncy, sassy, irreverent clown of indeterminate gender, who will always please for a slight fee, and whose wisdom is greater than any king or lord. This is meaty part and Fisher takes a huge tasty chunk of it, leaving the audience hungry for more.

Regan is a darker figure, not quite understood, and Sylvia Keays gives her a somber countenance where you never really know what sheíll do next. Teresa Huang as Cordelia, the youngest, is sufficiently pouty and wide eyed, although sometimes she goes a little overboard with the cutesy-poo shtick.

Haunting and beautiful, Stephanie Thorpe gives Goneril a business-like demeanor that lets you know this girl is serious about keeping this kingdom together. We also see a wicked streak which will develop later with merciless vile.

When we can hear her, Nancy Petersen was excellent as Nurse. Even sitting on the first row, her often whispered lines didnít quite make it beyond the footlights, so we had to wonder how the folks in the back could hear. Still, her demeanor and poise belied her servile standing, and the character we see comes across as having some kind of secret, just waiting for the right moment to unleash it.

With so many Shakespeare presentations around, the company chose the right moment to unleash Learís daughters. A few years ago, nobody ever knew the word ìprequelî existed, but now that George Lucas has made it commonplace, it can be used freely.

The Bard, (who made up his own considerable share of words) might have some reservations about applying the term here, but he would certainly approve of the convolutions of the story. His only complaint might be that only one person died at the end, but then thatís why King Lear takes care of that little detail ñ and then some.

Comments? Write to us at: Letters@reviewplays.com

Learís Daughters plays through September 13 at:

The Complex ñ Ruby Theatre

6476 Santa Monica Blvd

Los Angeles, CA 90038

(near Vine) Reservations at: (310) 289-4460

Tickets: $ 10