STAGE REVIEW : Garden Grove ‘King Lear’ Lacks Depth

A production of “King Lear” that opens with the line “And my poor fool is hanged. . . ,” spoken by Lear as he holds the dead Cordelia in his arms (while, in the background, the poor Fool is indeed hanging), promises something. But as the lights fade on this opening tableau, the Grove Shakespeare’s “Lear,” already has delivered its best shot. Nothing that follows measures up.

Or so it was at Saturday’s opening, under a full harvest moon, on one of this summer’s balmiest nights. It was difficult, under the circumstances, to believe in the rigors of the “Lear” storms--or in the travails of an old autocratic monarch’s disintegrating mind, crumbling under the devastation of his two brutal daughters’ repeated affronts. But the moon and the 80-degree temperature would not have interfered if director and actors had given us the genuine article. Of all of the Grove productions attended by this writer over the last 10 years, this one seems the least connected to its emotional quotient and insidious violence.

It does have the right look. Pamela Rank’s lighting is murky. Stan Meyer’s set consists of raked platforms and revolving jagged sculptures that serve any number of useful functions. Shigeru Yaji’s ever-inventive, flowing costumes appear deliberately soiled and spattered--tainted, as it were--even if Gary Christensen’s wigs too often have an incongruous dime-store look about them, seeming to have been matched and cut from some inexhaustible shock of pretty, blondish hair.

No. The trouble starts at the top with director Thomas F. Bradac, who is painting by the numbers on this one. He has extracted particularly juiceless performances from his actors, especially Daniel Bryan Cartmell, who provides the sort of shallow, vigorous Lear who would sooner have smacked both daughters with the back of his powerful hand (Regan and Goneril, played with flared nostrils and stereotypical sneers by Judith Hawking and Robin Christiaens, respectively) than submit for a moment to their indignities.

Cartmell simply lacks the depth and size for the role. By the time things get really high-strung and the fading king should be a gripping, pathetic figure wandering the moors lost in his scrambled thoughts, we’ve pretty much lost the play. Not only is Cartmell giving us only the most pedestrian reading of those intensely difficult, bold and majestic lines, but Gregory Mortensen is compounding the problem with equally external monkey-business as Edgar/Tom: a lot of jumping around and not a word from the heart. It is all stage business, as deep as a fingernail.

The trouble is pervasive, except for Harry Frazier, who moves us from time to time with the abiding sweetness of his loyal, blinded Gloucester, and Alicia Wollerton, whose Cordelia has an earnest and unforced simplicity. Russell Terry’s Kent is sober almost to the point of stolidity, but better sober than overwrought. Even such stalwarts as Benjamin Stewart as the Fool and Carl Reggiardo as the treacherous Edmund give totally predictable performances from the larynx out.

Considering the recent flap with Garden Grove’s mayor and City Council over whether the Grove Shakespeare Festival should continue to be or not to be in this beautiful city-owned amphitheater (a dispute stormily and only temporarily resolved in favor of the festival’s ongoing presence), let’s be clear on the issue. Yes, this “Lear” disappoints. Yes, it would have been nice to endorse unequivocally such an ambitious effort. And yes, it would have been a real surprise if the production had warranted the endorsement. There has to be room to fail in order to grow.

One production does not a season make--let alone constitute a reason for being (or, in this case, not being). One must look at the past 10 years. At its worst, the Grove Shakespeare is one of the best things that happened to the city of Garden Grove. And at its best, the festival speaks for itself.

At 12852 Main St. in Garden Grove, Fridays and Saturdays, 8:30 p.m., until Sept. 17. Tickets: $15-$18; (714) 636-7213.