Howl. Kenneth Branagh’s rapid, over-elocuted King Lear has a shaggy vigour but misses the scope, the depth and – what is surely the play’s defining attribute – the terrifying dislocation of Shakespeare’s most far-ranging tragedy. Branagh directs and Branagh stars. Robustness is all.
All over brown, grey and dun, with furs and blankets and Ugg-style boots, Jon Bausor’s costumes and set design – Stonehenge overseen by constellations – are ancient Britain as from a picture book. Fights are with staves, which are awkward weapons, not least because it is never clear why people drop down dead after clashing. There is insistent background drumming and much running across the stage.
