Lost Lear is a captivating show that delicately explores memory loss and a toxic parental relationship. Brought to the Traverse from the Riverbank and Mermaid Arts Centres, this production has already deservedly won a Fringe First for new writing.
It begins with a video projection of an actor applying thick greasepaint and a man explaining the plot of Shakespeare’s King Lear. There is a feeling of strangeness; the audience is not quite sure what is going on. Then a confused-looking person comes on stage and awkwardly observes a rehearsal for King Lear. The actor is capricious and demanding, throwing out criticism and seeking reassurance, and it goes on for so long that we all start to feel uncomfortable. This feeling of disquiet cleverly sets the tone: the actor is suffering from some kind of memory loss, possibly dementia or age-related cognitive decline, though it’s never explained. We see the actor in their young, fit prime but with hints of reality—the throne is an oversized padded chair that dwarfs them like the frail, elderly patient we see later.
Over time, the underlying story starts to unravel. Although it’s a little hard to accept that a care home or institution would sustain such an elaborate scenario to keep a resident happy in these cash-strapped days, it’s a fascinating premise.
The confusion of memory loss is reflected through the sound design by Kevin Gleeson, projections by Ross Ryder, and set by Andrew Clancy. The moment when the gauze is drawn and we hazily see the actor as a frail, older person huddled in their chair is incredibly affecting—it takes time to realise this is a life-size puppet.
The director and writer of Lost Lear, Dan Colley, trusts the audience to work out this story: the hurt of the neglected child and the need to resolve those feelings with a mother who can no longer communicate directly. Using key parts of King Lear to play out a possible reconciliation and forgiveness becomes a real and touching moment without tipping into maudlin sentimentality.
The acting is all outstanding. Venetia Bowe plays the actor Joy with boundless energy and darts of unthinking cruelty. Gus McDonagh is so natural you genuinely feel he has stepped onto the stage by accident, both ably supported by a charismatic Manus Halligan as the carer/facilitator and almost silent ensemble members.
Lost Lear is a beautifully crafted show and immerses you into the claustrophobic otherness of a lost mind. You might feel unsettled, but you’ll leave with hope.
