King Lear @ The Crucible Theatre, Sheffield 12.9.2026

Ian McDiarmid is an outstanding Lear, his performance so full of depth and detail it positively rings with truth. You have no doubt from the outset that he is very much the King, and very much a father.

It is illuminating to see his early anger at Cordelia’s refusal to flatter him contrasting with his later rage at Regan’s and Goneril’s lack of empathy. The former has spoiled his game, and he reacts like a spoiled – and very powerful – child. With the latter pair, the curses he throws at them come not so much from a desire to wound as from a shocked realisation that the pair have vicious claws with which they won’t hesitate to maul him.

This, then, is a Lear beset by revelation after revelation; revelations of other people’s true natures, of his own shortcomings, and of his shock at suddenly having to cope with the real world. He supposes he has personal authority, only to find that, once he has given his Kingdom away, any semblance of authority has gone with it. He supposes his children respect him as a father; another error he is forced to face. He assumes his royalty sets him apart from other men, but finds he is as vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life as any of us.

At the heart of the play, then, we have a Lear that is all too human, and one that totally vindicates Ben Jonson’s assertion that Shakespeare is not of an age, but for all time.

Whilst at times he has no choice but to live in the moment, this is also a Lear with a rich back-story. When he says ‘let me not be mad’, for example, this isn’t a theoretical fear; rather, it is clear he fears madness because he has experienced it before. Such is the presence and precision of this subtextual history, I found myself wondering if during a previous period of madness he’d had Mrs Lear executed for some crime, real or imagined.

So yes, he goes through madness, but it is a madness that results from repeated revelations of harsh truths; and you could argue that, in this iteration, he comes out the other side in some ways better for it.

At the heart of the play, then, we have a Lear who is all too human, and one that totally vindicates Ben Jonson’s assertion that Shakespeare is not of an age, but for all time.

Whilst another Director might settle for helping the title character attain these dizzy heights, this production has such formidable strength in depth that it is almost the opposite of a star vehicle. Make no mistake, McDiarmid is a star, and a very, VERY bright one at that; but everyone else involved, both on stage and off, bring their A-game too.

In just one example (though I could give many), Max Revell embodies the Fool with an astoundingly eloquent physicality, bringing his train of thought to vivid life without any spurious attempt to turn the Fool’s aphorisms into something more current, or to have him admit to the audience with a nod and a wink that he himself finds them dated. There’s a hint of the actor’s background of breaking and popping in the sports-branded hoodie he wears, a touch that seems like it should break the production’s illusion of timelessness, but instead feels absolutely right.

Who’d’ve thought modern dance would be such good preparation for playing Shakespeare? Well, I’m glad somebody did.

The rest of the cast is just as on point. Between them, everyone involved made the performance feel so fresh it felt like the play was being performed for the first time, having been written a month or two ago; no mean feat, given it is over four hundred years old, and a play I’ve seen performed at least half a dozen times before.

As with Revell’s Fool, I was particularly struck by the fact that this immediacy came not from trying to cram in contemporary references, or by presenting the piece in an arch fashion, but by connecting fully with the text, and delivering the action with total conviction and an astounding depth.

With each actor contributing so wonderfully to the overall sense of reality, there are no interruptions for changes of scenery, and little need of props, giving the piece a feeling of real immediacy and momentum, without ever felling rushed.

Similarly, light and sound were judicially used, helping the dramatic truth of the piece to land naturally, rather than trying to tell us what to think or feel. These and other elements of stagecraft combine in a way that they feed the subconscious, making stylised moments such as the battle scene all the more powerful for not being literal. I even felt noticeably colder during scenes set outdoors. Did they turn the AC up? Open offstage doors? Or was it purely the power of suggestion? I’m not sure what answer would be the most impressive.

I suspect the fact that Director Titas Halder is also a playwright helps explain some of the magic he has brought to this production, and his beautifully-realised determination to make everything serve Shakespeare’s intentions.

There is, I suspect, a nod in Beckett’s direction in the sparseness of the staging here, most pointedly in the appearance of the ascetically bare tree – little more than a slender, leafless branch – under which Edgar suggests Gloucester should shelter. It’s a moment that captures the play’s themes in miniature, given how little shelter this ‘tree’ can offer.

I’m not familiar with his other work, but, if Halder is considering staging Waiting for Godot, count me in. In fact, if he’s considering staging the phone book, count me in.

I knew as soon as I saw Ian McDiarmid was to play Lear that this was a must-see production. I wasn’t wrong – get tickets while you can.


King Lear is on at The Crucible Theatre, Sheffield, until 19th September.

Thanks to Crucible Media Officer Carrie Askew for making my attendance possible at such short notice, and to the staff at the theatre for making me feel so welcome.