KING LEAR at Riverside Studios

★★★★

“a stunning sight that feeds our imaginations”

The air is thick with silence. And darkness. As we hold our breath, our eyes slowly adjust while a blanket of white light spreads across the back wall like an uncertain dawn. Silhouettes appear like ghosts on polaroid. A crack of sound. Not a word is spoken. King Lear: a fallen angel with bleached hair, is flanked by the black-clad figures of Goneril and Regan. Gestures alone reveal the deception of their false declarations of love. Cordelia watches from the side, until Lear grabs the back of her hair. We realise the silence has been replaced by an electronic drone, pulsing within its crescendo. Still, not a word is spoken. We are in a world of silent screams. A visual tableau long before the invention of language. A modern world, yet one that is as timeless as Shakespeare. We are in Tang Shu-wing’s world.

Shu-wing’s all female production of “King Lear” premiered in Hong Kong in 2021 and was performed in Shanghai two years later, before coming to Riverside Studios for its UK premiere. The director’s style – ‘nonverbal theatre of gesture’ – is the star of the show. Whether the West London audiences are ready for this or not is a moot point. The boldness of the production will keep audiences transfixed. Minimalist and stylised it reduces Shakespeare’s tragedy into ninety minutes of silent physical drama.

Whilst the emotions are sharply conveyed, it is strongly advisable to be familiar with the original text. Otherwise, one might drift, pulled by the urge to seek another distraction in our thoughts. Occasionally it feels like just one part of a wider exhibition. An installation that we would like to wander into and out of. And we wonder: is it a work of art? Is it dance? Is it mime? Or all the above? Is it classical? Is it sci-fi? Jade Leung’s costume design is chic and modern while Billy Ng’s music is a futuristic canopy layered onto Anthony Yeung’s contemporary soundscape. Tsz-yan Yeung’s lighting is as much a narrator of the story as the performer’s slick movement, gestures and expressions. Shadows are cast, then sliced away by light: a single shaft like the blade of a knife, or a blood red flood of unease, tension and murderous intent.

It is a stunning sight that feeds our imaginations but also allows it to create its own subplots. We can grasp the narrative of the principal roles while the supporting players add neither confusion nor substance. Led by Cecilia Yip as Lear, the dynamic cast are fearless, forceful yet smooth as silk. Controlled, yet as fluid as the genders portrayed. There are no boundaries to cross here. No such thing as men or women. Just characters whose movements speak louder than words. The emotion comes to the fore. Cassandra Tang excels in the role of Cordelia, doubling as the Fool. Lindzay Chan’s Gloucester is a tragic figure, not just wordless but sightless, whose outstretched limbs and bloodied eyes convey the noiseless agony loud and clear. But here is no real lead player. Like gender, individuality is merged into an ensemble that moves as one.

And still not a word is spoken. As the final tragedy litters the stage, the figures morph back into their silhouettes. And the air is thick with silence once more. But only briefly. We hold our breath again, before the applause. We are not entirely sure what we have just witnessed, but we know our hearts have been touched. Evocative and original, Tang Shu-wing’s “King Lear” is challenging but is a theatrical dare that should not be resisted.