KING LEAR Film - Act 2 Scene 4

Stream on Amazon Prime - Episode 6

When Lear arrives at Gloucester’s, the political tensions that have been building towards upheaval breach the surface, while the impending storm looms inevitably closer. This scene is structured around a slow build towards a breaking point, yet at its heart is only deterioration. The stability of the kingdom, alliances, familial bonds, and Lear’s health and sanity all begin to fall apart.

The Fool, ever shrewd to the point of seeming prescience, warns Kent of what is about to happen.  He is alarmed by the changes he sees in Lear and, knowing Goneril and Regan’s true nature anticipates that he is about to be pushed into further devolution. He urgently cautions Kent that Lear’s decline will be swift and brutal, that it has already begun, and that it will not end well for those who follow. This moment is particularly poignant, as the Fool speaks to Kent not as Caius, but as himself. In that sense, it echoes the moment of recognition during 1.4, but goes beyond that brief silent exchange. This is not a moment of commiseration; rather the Fool is compelled by his very nature to warn Kent of the danger of following a doomed man. Yet he also knows that neither Kent nor himself will head that warning. They are both steadfast in their devotion to Lear and, however foolishly, will remain at his side in spite of what is to come, and indeed because of it.

The formerly close relationships that defined the now defunct hierarchy inform its downfall. Lear has a bad heart and Goneril is willing to exploit that fact. He is an obstacle, and she will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Goneril demonstrates strength of will and independence that is ironically reminiscent of Cordelia, but her goals are very different. Although Goneril knows that Regan will eventually stand in her way, her primary objective is to render Lear powerless, and she needs Regan’s cooperation to achieve that. Goneril knows that she and Regan are similar in their determination to be free of their father’s prideful delusion in what power he actually retains. Their understanding of and respect for one other is evident, as like herself, Regan is motivated to eliminate Lear by her own ambition and not spite or hatred.  Ironically, Goneril uses her familial ties as an advantage towards their eventual dissolution, forming one bond to break another.

Despite having given away his title and lands, and experiencing Goneril’s insubordination, Lear does not expect a shift in the social hierarchy when he arrives at Regan’s. He is shocked to be met with one offense after another. Having divided the kingdom, any power Lear truly retains is that imbued in him by the respect and deference of the nobles. That largely symbolic power is steadily chipped away, as Cornwall disrespects Lear’s servant and speaks to him as he has never done before. His own daughters reject him repeatedly, and with every successive humiliation Lear’s power, both real and symbolic, diminishes. As the scene builds until Lear is effectively deposed, the last remaining traces of the country’s stability are likewise toppled. Goneril and Edmund have both already begun to maneuver for power. The wheels are set in motion for further betrayal and the rapid dissolution of former alliances. The already weakened foundation of power in Britain utterly disintegrates in these moments.

The build-up to this moment is laden with the echoes of the same pattern of rise and fall. As Lear is bounced back and forth between Regan and Goneril, seeking refuge with whichever daughter will allow him the most followers, he is offered less and less each time. Lear’s retinue begins at one hundred men, is cut down to fifty, then twenty-five, ten, five until he is left with nothing. With each decreasing offer he becomes less and less powerful, not so much because he will have fewer knights to command, but because his daughters dare challenge and diminish him in this manner. He is humiliated to be so treated, especially in a public setting, just as he is heartbroken and stunned to find that his daughters think so little of him. He degrades himself by kneeling, however manipulatively, and we see just how far he has descended since the opening scene.

As Lear’s daughters and Cornwall steadily whittle away at his authority, his respect, and his dignity, Lear’s anger builds and his defective heart begins to rise against him. He is consumed both mentally and physically with the pain that drives him ever towards the madness he fears above all else. In contrast to all that has been destroyed, the storm outside begins to build as if in connection with the storm within. There is perpetual rise and fall within this scene: a crescendo of deterioration, a conflagration of decay.