King Lear review: Kenneth Branagh’s take on the thwarted ruler feels like a first draft

It’s the role that so many great Shakespearean actors hope to live up to, but Branagh’s West End performance of an ageing leader in decline feels like a curio rather than a complete reading

More sinned against than sinning: Jessica Revell and Kenneth Branagh in ‘King Lear' at Wyndham’s Theatre (Photos by Johan Persson)

Generations of Shakespeare fans (and grumpy GCSE students) have grown up with Kenneth Branagh’s stylish, definitive film adaptations, including Henry V (1989), Othello (1995) and Hamlet (1996). So it’s unsurprising that there’s a cinematic, pared-down feel to his two-hour-long West End take on the role that so many great Shakespearean actors age into and hope to live up to: King Lear.

A giant, eye-like screen looms over designer Jon Bausor’s stage, moody with storm clouds and constellations of stars, establishing that we’re in an older, more primal era here. Lear and his kinsfolk are dressed like reenactments of bog bodies you might see in a museum, or a Game of Thrones tribe from beyond the wall – draped with furs and shawls, carrying large wooden staffs that they thump on the ground in ceremonial circles. If the setting feels ancient, Branagh’s Lear is substantially more youthful than most interpretations of this thwarted ageing king – Ian McKellen and Kathryn Hunter’s recent performances included.

He sparks with energy as a warrior king who expects ritualistic pledges of allegiance from his daughters: Goneril (Deborah Alli) and Regan (Melanie-Joyce Bermudez) play their part in the rite, but Cordelia (Jessica Revell) shatters the spell with her honest protestations of discomfort. Steps at the front of the stage heighten the sense he could come roaring off the stage at any minute as he bellows his fury, bears his chest, or grips Edmund (Corey Mylchreest) in a chokehold and throws him to the ground.