The simplicity of the set reflects the straightforward but effective qualities of this moving interpretation of Shakespeare's great tragedy. There are no tricksy surprises in Michael Grandage's fine production which places the emphasis firmly on the personal rather than the political.
Christopher Oram's dull grey boards, splattered with white, cover the stage and surround the auditorium - there's nowhere to hide as Derek Jacobi's superb Lear divides up his kingdom and completes his tragic journey from monarch to broken old man, emitting a heart-rending wail of inconsolable grief as he cradles the body of his once favoured and favourite daughter in his arms.
His is not a particularly regal Lear - proud and petulant as a thwarted child, he bursts with pleasure at the loving avowals of Goneril and Regan which are so soon to be tested and rebutted. First and foremost, he is a father, a man who suffers greatly having lost what is dearest to him, only to find her again too late. It's impossible not to be moved by his quiet descent into the bewildered confusion of madness.
There's fine support from Ron Cook's lugubrious Fool, and from Michael Hadley as the loyal Kent. But this is Jacobi's night. At 72, his white hair cropped close, he rules the stage, if not a kingdom, with a performance of heartbreaking honesty.
Christopher Oram's dull grey boards, splattered with white, cover the stage and surround the auditorium - there's nowhere to hide as Derek Jacobi's superb Lear divides up his kingdom and completes his tragic journey from monarch to broken old man, emitting a heart-rending wail of inconsolable grief as he cradles the body of his once favoured and favourite daughter in his arms.
His is not a particularly regal Lear - proud and petulant as a thwarted child, he bursts with pleasure at the loving avowals of Goneril and Regan which are so soon to be tested and rebutted. First and foremost, he is a father, a man who suffers greatly having lost what is dearest to him, only to find her again too late. It's impossible not to be moved by his quiet descent into the bewildered confusion of madness.
There's fine support from Ron Cook's lugubrious Fool, and from Michael Hadley as the loyal Kent. But this is Jacobi's night. At 72, his white hair cropped close, he rules the stage, if not a kingdom, with a performance of heartbreaking honesty.
Donmar Until 5 February.
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