The Core Blog

We just witnessed a meeting of evil minds as Cornwall bestowed on Edmund Earl of Gloucester. Terrible, but I wanted to spend some time remarking on the play's lack of scenery.

Shakespeare's non-existent scene descriptions create an austere setting, which I love in this play. The drama is so high, the action so quick, that it is enough to have nothing but the actors on stage. Who needs a dramatic stage when the words are so powerful and vile and exciting?

Seeking shelter from the storm, Lear sends his fool into a cave and discovers Edmund, who is disguised as a lunatic. Great costume, except the king who finds him has a more first-hand experience with the role.

Lear not only finds nothing wrong with Edmund's claim that he's being chased by the devil, he also strips naked as does Edmund.

Will the invasion begin before Lear completely loses his mind? This is some high drama.

The king is obviously starting to go mad. He's wandering in the rain, railing against his daughters, barely able to keep his thoughts straight.

Meanwhile, loyal Gloucester is aware of the French invasion and plans to help Lear and Cordelia. The only problem is he is confiding in the wrong son. The moment Edmund learns of the plot, he practically leaps with joy to rat out his father, with hopes of a quick execution for treason, leading to his fat inheritance.

The odds are against Lear, but Kent, with admirable loyalty, keeps his ear to the ground, scoping the best possible outcome.

There are spies in the kingdom and beef between Albany and Cornwall. Although the odds are still stacked against Lear, with the help of the right people (Cordelia and Kent), he might be able to fix the horrible mistake that began this play.

"You should be ruled, and led

By some discretion that discerns your state

Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you

That to our sister you do make return;

Say you have wronged her," (II, iv, 146-150) Regan says at the beginning of her brutal manipulation of her father.

Edgar, being hunted, believes he can find cover (and maybe happiness) by throwing away his fine clothes and worldly possessions to live a simple life as a beggar.

How monk-like.

Well, I know who I'd want on my team in this battle.

Still holding a grudge against Oswald for slighting Lear, Kent leaps at his chance for revenge when the two of them are alone. He draws his sword, but Oswald refuses to fight, leading to some wonderfully insulting language.

"Thou whoreson zed, thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the wall of a jakes with him." (II, ii, 61-64).

Evil seems to always win because it's always calculating how to win.

When Edmund hears that Cornwall and Regan are coming to visit, he immediately figures how he can use it to eliminate his brother. Trusting Edgar doesn't understand Edmund's claim about Cornwall, but still flees when Edmund tells him that their father has found his hiding place.

Already Lear's prideful decisions have come back to haunt him. Before he has much time to unpack his bags, Goneril is making plans to get rid of him.

Again, we see the contagious cruelty of greed. Much like Edmund, Goneril can think only of the material fortunes ahead of her, not the family that blocks the way. Lear seems equally guilty for demanding that silly loyalty oath, but this punishment already seems excessive.

The conniving brilliance caused by desire is remarkable, even in fiction.

Scene ii plays out much like the first, filled with family strife and diabolical plots. Sure, it's rough being the youngest child, shut out from the family fortune, and being a bastard makes it only worse, but Edmund's plan to set up his brother seems extreme. Even worse is the cold calculation with which he puts his plan into play.