Laughing at Lear
STEVE KOGAN was one of those people I have been fortunate enough to have struck up an acquaintance with in my years of blogging, but never personally met. An English literature professor for more than 30 years, an accomplished writer who also contributed to View from the Right (under the name “Murray”) and Brussels Journal, Steve was a gracious and warm man.
Sadly, Steve died last August of pancreatic cancer. I am sorry he is no longer with us and wish he could have sent many more essays. May he rest in peace and may his wife, Carol, find consolation in his memory. A collection of Steve’s essays, Against the Grain, is now available at Amazon.
Here is a 2011 essay by Steve that was posted here before, a meditation on a performance of Shakespeare’s King Lear in Brooklyn. During the famous and harrowing tragedy, the audience frequently burst into laughter:
If I had had a counter in my hand, I could have pressed it forty times for every laugh I heard. Many came in response to sharp exchanges of conflicting points of view, as though the audience were being treated to witty repartee, while others followed sadistic comments during the blinding of Gloucester and even scenes of murder, as when Regan collapses – “Sick, O, sick” – after being poisoned by her elder sister, Goneril, who retorts in an aside, “If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine.”

King Lear in New York
– by Steve Kogan –
I HAD A strange and disconcerting night at the theater this spring, when my wife and I saw Derek Jacobi in the title role of Shakespeare’s King Lear at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. On our subway ride back home, my feelings ran so high that we began to quarrel over their intensity, and it was only after we apologized to each either in the morning that I was able to express exactly why my emotions had been roiled. What follows grew out of what I said to her and what I later discovered when I read a review of the production in the New York Times.
In my last two years of college, I took a one-year course on Shakespeare and a senior semester on Lear, which we read scene by scene and line by line. There was a time in my life when I went to the theater to see whatever works of his and his fellow dramatists were being performed in the city, and I developed a way of turning even mediocre acting to advantage by supplying my own imaginary performance as I let the familiar words sink in. When the acting was good, my absorption was complete. (more…)




