Shakespeare takes pleasure not merely in reversing our sympathies as a play proceeds, but complexifying them from the start, so that we do not quite know who to cheer and who to hiss in a tale's first unfolding. His text tells us that Lear begins as an irascible, selfish, unpleasant and unwise old man, who after dividing his kingdom and resigning his powers makes a nuisance of himself to his daughters – who, reasonably enough, are not minded to tolerate his behaviour, and therefore equally reasonably seek to restrain him. At the outset, then, Lear invites no sympathy. By half way through, and increasingly as the play mounts the scale of anguish to its tragic end, our sympathies become engaged on his behalf, aided by the analogous plight of Gloucester. Consistencies are provided by the villainy of Edmund, and the twinned tragedies of Edgar and Cordelia, both ejected from paternal love, and both reunited with it in sorrow at last.
     Jonathan Kent gives us a lucid, scrupulous, beautifully thought-out rendering of the play, aided by a superb performance from his cast, chief among them David Ryall as Gloucester, James Frain as Edmund, Anthony O'Donnell as an excellent Fool, and not least Oliver Ford-Davies as Lear, every inch the king through storm, vicissitude, madness and grief. The power of the production is hugely enhanced by Paul Brown's design, which is a work of genius. The scene – indeed the whole theatre – begins as a handsomely wood-panelled room in Lear's palace, expensively and comfortably appointed. Order, opulence and plushness reside there, making palpable the richness of the inheritance Lear divides according (as it turns out) to his whim. But as the play proceeds, this sumptuous surround progressively collapses; rifts and cracks appear, the walls fall; the scene turns to confusion and rubble; it becomes in rapid succession a wilderness pelted by storms, the neighbourhood of a battlefield, a rough coastal castle, together forming the outward setting for the inner psychological and moral collapse of some of the characters, while for three of the others – Edgar, and especially Lear and Cordelia – it represents the needlessness of things material, for everything has been stripped to what is elemental: love, and the bonds that survive the flaying of mistaken choices and the corrupting influence of power. 
     Design and direction, thus, are jointly inspired, making this one of the best Lears by far in living memory. It compares with Jonathan Miller's production at the Old Vic with Eric Porter as Lear, about fifteen years ago, which is something of a touchstone for contemporary representations, since it did not attempt prevarications with the ambiguities of the play's premise, and in emphasising the importance of Gloucester, Edgar, Edmund and the Fool, increased the tragic stature of Lear himself – who needed, therefore, even stronger and more thoughtful playing to avoid the arm-flailing ,wailing caricaturisation that the role traditionally invited. 
     In the hands of a director, designer and cast such as the Almeida offer, Shakespeare continues to thrill, startle and amaze, to make an audience gasp, to evoke its amusement and its pity – and all in incomparable style. This Lear is an immense evening of theatre, and a must-see.
AC Grayling