Written by David Henry Wilson

Directed by Jennifer Dick

The unknown fate of characters has plagued and enriched the texts of countless authors and storytellers for centuries. The immense power in the unexplored catapults sometimes small, seemingly inconsequential players into a new world ripe for the picking: where does Long John Silver wash ashore? Is Augustus Gloop really just in the fudge room? And just what took Godot so bloody long?

One branching pathway down the avenue of deceit, death and chaos, Lear’s Fool peers into the creases between the bards’ pages and into a world which exits but was never entirely conceived. In the dark recesses of a prison cell in Dover, audiences meet King Lear’s Fool, as David Henry Wilson’s one-act play offers a possible outcome for the King’s beloved companion whose disappearance in the third act leads to one of the play’s most notorious lines. Now, in the capable hands of Jennifer Dick’s direction, this histrionic and intelligent production finds its Scottish footing as the final, secret, production of the Bard in the Botanics season.

In the traditional traverse staging of the Kibble Palace, the prison walls enclose the audience with Artistic Director Gordon Barr’s minimalistic design, positioning a ‘throne’ of furs and cobbled woods together to offer a focal point of performance. Otherwise, much of the performance takes place across the palace, with momentum rarely resting in terms of movement or of the tongue.

Reciting the words of Shakespeare takes more talent than many give credit for. To command the language, translating it to contemporary audiences is equally as complicated. Nicole Cooper doesn’t do either of these. Frequently remarked for her canny ability to seamlessly immerse themselves into the language and flow as freely as Wilson’s words allow – her titular role as Lear’s Fool is no different. It’s a once-in-a-generation skill. And what’s more, Cooper is having lashings of fun in this role as the wittiest character in the room, aided in the writing which suggests a much deeper tale beneath the surface – one of the relationships between Lear, the man the Fool calls ‘Nuncle’.

Finlay McLean’s eventual arrival as Lear, with Stephanie McGregor’s Cordelia in tow, strikes a familiar note from the onset – the pair’s interactions and nature with Cooper’s Fool harkening back to the original story, while opening the brutality of the eventual punchline of Wilson’s tale – one which curdles any smiles the audiences may still wear.

The comedy weaves into the tragedy of it all, living the life of a painted smile but unafraid to spare no tears as the trauma and emotion of it all boil-over. It’s in part a strength of Dick’s direction to maintain the chaos of the fool; a role which so easily could be blown out of proportion and leap and frolic across the Kibble Palace. It’s an element Sam Stopford comprehends with tremendous effect, touched by the Fool’s wit and earnest nature, visibly struggling to carry out their cruel orders considering the connection they forge. Cooper matches their energy with a playful melancholy painted as plainly as the streaked makeup on their face.

Continuing to bring a presence of authority to the season, Johnny Panchaud’s unnamed Captain could effortlessly be slithered into the villainous and dilute the authenticity of the affair. But they wait. It isn’t until the show reaches its pitch of tension that Panchaud unfurls a fang and readies in a more vicious role, setting up the end of this story, and the return to Shakespeare’s own. And in a moment of genius, the often-interpreted fate of the Fool and Cordelia marks the closing moments of Wilson’s script – confirming and refuting precisely who the hanged fool was.

The secret production of the season, Lear’s Fool rounds out a terrifically inspired ‘Fault in Our Stars’, which channels the very essence of humanity into some of the bard’s (and others) famous characters. Peering into what destiny had in store, a once unknown fate is sealed, and the smiles and laughter that echoed are silenced. The savviest person in the room may have run out of wit and measure to spin, but Wilson’s script ensures there is a touching nobility for any fool.