Lear Fear.
and how to overcome it.
For most of my life I’ve harbored a dark secret: I didn’t understand King Lear.
I know.
What kind of theater major with an MFA in playwriting doesn’t understand Lear?
Me.
I’ve been so ashamed.
For years, I’d roam the streets of New York avoiding eye contact with strangers for fear they’d uncover my shameful secret. “Can she tell I don’t understand Lear?” I’d wonder about a co-worker. “Can my boss tell? My gynocologist? That Starbucks guy? The way he handed me my latte? He knows.”
Lear paranoia followed me everywhere.
I mean, I understood the story: An old king gives away his land to his kids who then betray him (two of them, at least), quickly realizes the folly of what he’s done, regrets it, but by then it’s too late and the good kid dies. Also, there’s a storm. Also, there’s a B-story about a crazy guy in the woods (I definitely didn’t understand the B-story).
I’ve read Lear, seen it on stage once or twice and of course on screen—- McKellan, Olivier, Ian Holm, all the big boys. When the world ended in 2020, I forced myself to watch Anthony Hopkins’ King Lear. “Feel something, goddamit!” I shouted at myself.
But I didn’t feel it, not the way I feel Hamlet or MacBeth or Streetcar or Endgame or Long Day’s Journey Into Night or Merrily We Roll Along and countless other masterpieces.
Could something be wrong with me?
Should I seek help? Talk to my shrink?
“Good morning Sara! How are you?” she’d start the session.
“I might need to adjust my medication,” I’d meekly say.
“Oh no,” she’d be suddenly concerned. “What’s going on?”
And I’d confess, teary-eyed: “I don’t feel Lear.”
But—
I recently saw an exquisite production of King Lear at LaMama. Within minutes, I experienced true Ego Death.
My construct of self dissolved, and I became one with everyone who has ever lived, blithely enjoyed their youth, grown old and died.
Saints be praised: I understand Lear now.1
So what happened? Why now?
Answer: I got old. Doy.
I’ve been wanting to write a Substack about Lear but I couldn’t think of an angle, so for many days, I badgered by long-suffering husband, Reid.
“What should my Lear Substack be about?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“I can’t just write about how I used to not understand Lear and now I do understand Lear,” I complained.
“Why not?” He said, in that fuck-you way I fell in love with.
Why not, indeed.
So, here are the 5 major plot points (as I see them) in Lear and why they were impossible for a young me to understand, but are devastatingly clear to an old me.
PLOT POINT #1: The love test.
Quick & dirty summary: Lear decides to divide up his kingdom between his three kids, but they have to tell him how much they love him first. Goneril and Regan blow smoke up his skirt, but Cordelia, his favorite, refuses to flatter him. He goes mental and disowns her. When his friend Kent defends Cordelia, Lear goes even more mental and banishes him.
OLD SARA’S INTEPRETATION: All Lear’s bluster and performative altruism is really just him panicking about death. He thinks about death all the time. I’m only 45 and I think about death all the time, too. The concept of being…nothing? Am I really just a human TV set? When I’m flipped off, am I really… off? Like off off? Then why work out or study or learn an instrument or get my hair cut or take a shower? Why eat healthily? Why not just live on Cinnamon Toast Crunch and meth? Why do anything if one day—very soon in Lear’s case— I will be…nothing. It’s an unbearable weight to carry. But the concept of legacy is comforting. When I am as close to death as Lear in Act 1, I will have my kids, my entire body of work, productions, published plays and books, my friends— all are a great and lasting legacy. You know what would also be cool? If I got all my friends, family and fans together at say… Dixon Place! And they told me how much they loved me. (I’d obviously cater it.)
Oh look, there’s my youngest kid, now 40, standing up to share how he’ll carry my legacy into the future. “Tell me, my son,” I say, “Ease my transition into death: What doth you love about me most?”
“Mom,” he says, “you actually really fucked me up and I’m in therapy now because of you.”
“But— but I gave you a great childhood!” I protest, “I exposed you to art and music and theater! I gave you independence and cash! So much cash! I was always supportive and emotionally present—- wasn’t I? I worked a soul-crushing day job for decades solely for your comfort! Tell me! Where did I go wrong?”
“You wouldn’t buy me Madden NFL 26.” He’d say. “Doy.”
“But it was $70!” I’d say. “I couldn’t rationalize spending $70 dollars on a video game! Also I’m not made of money!”
“Pfft, whatever,” my youngest would say. “It’s a lot less than what my shrink charges.”
Oh my god, I’d think.
My legacy is tarnished! I thought my youngest son loved me, but really he’s an entitled, spoiled little capitalist who’s into football! Worse— video games about football! Ye gods! My entire belief system is shattered! I’ve been living a lie!
“Well then kid,” I rage at him. “I hereby disclaim all my maternal care, propinquity and property of blood! And as a stranger to my heart and me! Hold thee from this forever!”
And I banish my kid from Dixon Place forever.
How can I accept death now? When my own flesh and blood thinks I deprived him? Also, look what my well-intentioned parenting hath wrought?
But I am going to die—- and soon! And I must accept death or else go mad!
I’d almost rather go mad…
YOUNG SARA INTERPRETATION: What a stupid idiot.
LEAR PLOT POINT #2: Gloucester sub-plot begins.
Quick & dirty summary: This rando guy named Gloucester has two sons: Edgar (legitimate) and Edmund (bastard). For the power trip, Edmund tricks his dad into thinking that Edgar is plotting to kill him. Edmund then tricks Edgar into thinking their dad is plotting to kill him. Edgar panics, rips off all his clothes and lives in the woods under a new identity: Poor Tom.
OLD SARA’S INTEPRETATION: I’m pretty sure Shakespeare invented the concept of the “subplot” here, but I suspect he didn’t do it for the sake of experimental theater or as a novel device. Shakespeare’s not flexing with a “hey nonny nonny, 2 stories at once, bitch!” There is a deep, pleading why in placing a second storyline in Lear. I think he included this B-story to completely undermine the canonical rule that art is for and about kings, queens, the rich and famous. By giving a nobody like Gloucester the same storyline as the king himself, Shakespeare’s saying “pain happens to everyone, big and small.”
This was incredibly ahead of his time.
It took generations for artists and audiences alike to recognize the beauty of everyday people. When Van Gogh painted his The Potato Eaters, people were disgusted. Poor people? In art? Ew. Who cares what they do? Give us kings!2
Also the Gloucester subplot tests my judgment and prejudice.
Like, which familial struggle affects me more, Lear’s or Gloucester’s? I would say Gloucester’s. I can relate to it more. Think about what it does to an adult child to suddenly realize that their parent does not love them? Like, if my older son started feeding lies to my younger son that I hated him, and if my younger son believed it, it would ruin his life. I’ve seen this happen to so many people. And to be perfectly honest, I have certainly grappled with this question of parental love with one of my parents for decades. The question of “does mom/dad actually love me?” is a bottomless pit of despair that causes a dangerous, life-long chain reaction— one that has definitely sent me into the “woods” to build a “new identity.”
YOUNG SARA INTERPRETATION: Shakespeare invented subplots. Cool.
LEAR PLOT POINT #3: The Storm.
Quick & dirty summary: When Goneril and Regan show their true colors, Lear realizes he has trusted the wrong daughters and goes mad in a storm.
OLD SARA INTERPRETATION: The storm scene is the most accurate literary symbol of “waking up” in the English language.
Oooooh, waking up—- the true test of getting older.
If you are handed the truth later in life, a painful, world shattering truth, will you a) face it bravely, even if it makes you look like an asshole or 2) Go full MAGA.
The choice is yours, old man.
If you can wake up, you will have a good, calm, meaningful life. If you can’t? I can tell you from personal experience that when you’re old, doubling down on a lie will lead to an early death. The emotional burden will eat you alive. I myself have woken up to so much in my 40s. Sure, I’ve woken up to the true natures of family like Lear does, but also friends, artistic collaborators, past boyfriends, bosses, day jobs, my own psychological patterns— I can see the true meaning of almost everything I did when I was young and it can be a very, very painful experience to recall. I have spent a good deal of time apologizing to people in my 40s. Oh, what I would do with a DeLorean and plutonium.
But what is the alternative to waking up? Denial? Obfuscation? A double-life? The spine of JD Vance?
Lear rages in the storm because the storm is his emotional life and waking up feels that big and bad, especially when you’ve gone your whole life thinking one thing and you were wrong all along—-“more sinned against than sinning.”
Famously Lear bellows “Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!” but I think it’s less a challenge to nature from a delusional old man and more displaced rage at his family. Oh my god can I sing a few bars of that.
Also, who stands with you when you “wake up?” When you realize you were an asshole? When you are adult enough to apologize? Well, the “real” friends and family— in Lear’s case, The Fool, Kent and Edgar. I mean, the storm scene in Lear is the most spot on dramatic realization of a feeling I’ve ever seen in my life.
YOUNG SARA INTEPRETATION: Good monologue for an older actor.
LEAR PLOT POINT #4: Gloucester & Edgar’s reunion.
Quick & dirty summary: The B-story intersects with the A-story as Gloucester helps Lear escape. Pissed, Regan and her husband Cornwall gouge out both Gloucester’s eyes as punishment. Gloucester, now blind, wanders around the heath trying to locate a cliff he can jump off. His son Edgar, still disguised as Poor Tom, kindly “helps” him commit suicide by convincing him he’s actually done it and miraculously survived. Edgar then reveals himself to his father. His father, realizing he trusted the wrong son, is so overwhelmed by his true son’s act of kindness that he dies of happiness. (Which I didn’t know could happen.)
OLD SARA’S INTERPRETATION: I have always stood by the power and internal strength of an apology. As long as it’s sincere, I greatly admire someone who can feel real remorse. I mean, maybe not for all crimes. I wouldn’t accept an apology from Trump or Epstein or Putin or Hitler or that caliber of monster.
But…
Like yesterday, when Pam Bondi testified before the House Judiciary Committee in Washington about the Epstein files cover up. What if instead of calling US Senators “losers” in response to their simple request she apologize to the Epstein victims sitting behind her, Pam took a deep breath, stood up, turned around, faced the Epstein survivors and said, in all sincerity:
“O my follies! You were abused. Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper you.” 3
Well, I mean…I think I’d be ok with her? If she meant it?
Of course she’d have to go on to describe her own trauma, the trauma that led her to crawl deep inside the devil’s asshole.
YOUNG SARA’S INTERPRETATION: Nah. Fuck you, Dad.
LEAR PLOT POINT #5: Death of Cordelia and Lear
Quick & dirty summary: Cordelia returns, tries to rescue her dad Lear, but Edmund orders her hanged and Lear is too late to save her from her execution. Lear carries Cordelia’s lifeless body downstage (usually) and speaks to her the saddest speech in all of the English language:
No, no, no life?
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou ’lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never—
Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
Look there, look there!
OLD SARA INTERPRETATION: An English professor once told me that characters in classic lit don’t really change, per se. That they can’t. That the tension and suspense in any story is reading what they will or won’t do, not necessarily how they will change as people. And in fact if a character does actually change, well, what you have is a children’s book or a morality tale or a religious fable, not really a complex work of literature. Then he paused and said, “well, all except Ebenezer Scrooge.”
I don’t think I agree with that.
Who’s to say Scrooge doesn’t go back to being an asshole on Boxing Day? Dickens never wrote A Christmas Carol II: Return of The Cunt, so we don’t know, do we? But Lear? Lear changes. Granted, it’s on his deathbed in the final few minutes of his life, but he really does change. I mean, it’s in every line of that speech. 2 examples:
Pray you undo this button—
A humble request to a nameless servant if perhaps he could help him help his dead daughter breathe? He was totally incapable of that in the first act.
But because Shakespeare was so good it was criminal, he bludgeons the audience with one more bit of existential awfulness, that kind of upends my entire thesis:
Look on her, look, her lips, look there, look there!
What is this? Is this further delusion? Maybe… he hasn’t changed and he is mad?
In September last year, I saw my dad in the final 2 days of his life. I remember saying to him, “you’ll be ok, you’ll be ok” a bunch of times. I don’t know why I said it. But I said it. Did I say that for me or him? Both?
I know some people read Lear’s “Look there, look there!” as a final moment of delusion, but I think it’s instead a final moment of self-soothing, a “you’ll be ok.” Which is so beautiful it hurts. (Curse you to hell, Shakespeare.)
YOUNG SARA INTERPRETATION: You fucked up, old man.
Ok, there you go, my painfully reductive old Sara vs young Sara King Lear interpretation.
Ironically, I feel lighter now that I fully comprehend the burden of comprehending King Lear.
If you read Theater Is Hard, you’ve probably watched Slings & Arrows multiple times. (If you haven’t, buy all 3 seasons now and write it off as a business expense.)4
The final season of Slings & Arrows is “the Lear season.” (1st = “the Hamlet season,” 2nd = “the MacBeth season”). The protagonist, Geoffrey Tennant, my spirit animal, played to perfection by Paul Gross, says of King Lear:
“You can go right through the ‘ages of man’ with Shakespeare. And then, at the end, he gives you this enormous gift of Lear—- to anticipate your own decay.”
The real genius of what Shakespeare did with King Lear is that not only did he write a character who actually changes, he wrote a play that actually changes depending on where you are in your life.
I can’t think of another play that does that— a true literary prism.
Yes, getting old is hard. My neck hurts all the time now for absolutely no reason, my hair is completely silver, I now do that thing my gramma used to do where she lists every name of everyone in her family before landing on the right one. (“MikeDanJimPhyllisJaneNancySARA help me out of the car!”)
But old Sara has one thing now that young Sara did not, could not, would not: the bravery to wake up, be apologetic and humble. Like Lear in his final moment.
You poor naked wretches, whereso’er you are, theater ‘tis hard.
Note: no psychodelic drugs taken.
I know Gloucester isn’t a poor person, per se, he’s not as high up as the others.
The actual line is: “O my follies! Edgar was abused. Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him.” I hamfistedly changed it to fit my fantastical Pam Bondi scenario.
Like, right now.
brilliant, sara! i love “lear”; i’ve seen about a dozen live productions, one with the rare happy ending, in addition to kurosawa’s “ran,” and many were unforgettable, mostly for good reasons — with a coupla major exceptions. i’m so mad at myself for missing the show at la mama (and the recent chinatown version). as i get older (not old, which is a completely different thing), i find myself drawn to the story of fathers and their children, three girls for lear, two boys for gloucester. but in every iteration, i discover something new about the play — and about life, storms and all. brava!
My goodness. That was…a lot. In a good way. I read Lear in high school in a Shakespeare class. Then I read it in a Dramaturgy class in college and then promptly forgot about it for the next 27 years until this moment. I feel I have to consume it again.