‘King Lear’ – The Shakespeare Adapation Unlike Any Other

Jean-Luc Godard’s “King Lear” (1987) has been rescued by The Criterion Collection.
The home video distribution company cleaned up the out-of-print art film and returned it to the public in an ideal new edition. Of the many Godard works, it’s easily one of his weirdest. The adaptation has an extraordinary backstory as fascinating as the film itself.
The short version: Godard famously signed a contract on a napkin at the Cannes Film Festival with Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus to make a film based on William Shakespeare’s “King Lear” for Cannon Films. Coming from Godard, one of the fathers of French Neo-realism and a director who never made a conventional, predictable or indifferent work of art in his life, it was clear that his “King Lear” would be different from all others.
Yet, no one could have imagined it would result in a work this baffling.
Godard cast author Norman Mailer and his daughter in key roles, which they abandoned after a day of filming. Then Molly Ringwald was brought on board to play Cordelia, along with Burgess Meredith as “Don Learo,” and a character named William Shakespeare Jr. the Fifth, played by celebrated director Peter Sellars (not to be confused with the other Peter Sellers, “The Pink Panther” stalwart).
Sellars’ character carries the very loose plot, about a world post-Chernobyl in need of language to be collected, nurtured and rediscovered. Following a prologue with still photos of great directors (including Fritz Lang and Francois Truffaut), we have scenes containing whimsical, pontificating dialog intermingling with the words of Shakespeare.
There’s also Godard himself, cast as Professor Pluggy. The decidedly non-Shakespearean character holds the secrets of the world, sports dreadlocks made of electrical cords, and speaks in a low growl (thankfully, there is an option for subtitles).
The whole thing is overseen by an omniscient film editor, Mr. Alien, played by Woody Allen. Many scenes are punctuated by the sounds of seagulls screeching. Did I mention how bonkers this is?
The first time I ever viewed it was with my Lost Films course that I taught decades ago in Colorado Springs. The class was a film appreciation and history course, and the syllabus was made up from titles of films that were out of print and largely unavailable at the time.
I spent a year finding copies that could be viewed in the screening room provided.
Among the titles on my syllabus were Stanley Donen’s “Movie Movie” (1978), Johnny Depp’s “The Brave” (1997) and Wim Wenders’ five-hour cut of “Until the End of the World” (1991), as well as cult films that were, at that point, near-impossible to find, like Joseph Ruben’s “The Stepfather” (1987) and even Willard Huyck’s “Howard the Duck” (1986).
My class covered a wide range of films, all of which proved new to the students. Most had never heard of the titles in question.
By far, the one that generated the most curiosity from the syllabus was “King Lear.” I mean, who wouldn’t want to see a notorious art movie with Molly Ringwald, Burgess Meredith and Woody Allen, from the director of “Breathless” (1960)?
After a lecture on the film’s tortured history and laying some groundwork on Godard, Shakespeare and what to expect, I played the film on a VCR. The class was baffled, laughing uncomfortably at times, audibly delighted at others.
Once it ended, there was a collective laugh and a lively discussion on how most of the class hated the film but still found it fascinating.
Films like “King Lear” were made for a Lost Films class, as well as cinephiles who think they’ve seen everything.
Godard’s film is, like much of his film art, part directorial act of rebellion, part exploration of his creative process in an improvisational environment. The film says little about Shakespeare and everything about the process of adapting his work and allowing personal and collective creativity to shape the art.
Jean-Luc Godard’s contract for King Lear was signed in a bar on a table napkin pic.twitter.com/dUijCgj7iU
— Eyes On Cinema (@RealEOC) January 7, 2020
If you’ve read this far and are intrigued (as opposed to yelling “Retreat!” and fleeing), I highly recommend watching the film, then viewing the wonderful Bonus Features on the Criterion disc, chief of which is an essential recollection by Ringwald of her experience.
Ringwald is blunt and vivid in her recollections but clearly remains in awe of Godard and the uniqueness of the experience. Sellars leads the other looking-back discussion, and his take is more about the shared artistic process and less critical of the messiness of the project.
Both are worth watching but seeing and hearing Ringwald reflect on one of her wildest films (made right after “Pretty in Pink” in 1986 and her appearance on the cover of Time Magazine as a voice of her generation) is a must.
“King Lear” remains a weird one for me, as I can’t always get on Godard’s wavelength. Is he trying to engage my concept of adaptation or simply making fun of me for watching this? Is this one of his most challenging masterpieces or is it his “The Emperor’s New Clothes”?
I still don’t know.
Godard’s highly controversial “Hail Mary” (1985), which was protested by Catholics for its post-modern take on the Virgin Birth, is actually far more coherent.
If you only watch one Godard film in your life, see “Contempt” (1963). It’s one of my favorite movies about filmmaking; it stars Brigette Bardot and a young Jack Palance and depicts Fritz Lang, playing himself, as he struggles to helm a film adaptation of “The Odyssey” (I’ll inevitably write about that film once Christopher Nolan’s remake of “The Odyssey” nears release).
Most would say Godard’s masterpiece is “Breathless” (1960) which is terrific, but I prefer “Contempt” (1963), another richly layered but far more accessible work about filmmaking, and the creative process as an act of rebellion.
There’s also the classic “Bands of Outsiders” (1964), the deconstructed musical of “A Woman is a Woman” (1961), the Jane Fonda hostage drama “Tout va Bien!” (1972) and the cool, delightful film noir “Detective” (1985).
Godard’s finest films explore the possibilities of cinema and his newfound ways of expressing film art. Of course, only Godard’s “King Lear” has Godard croaking, “Mr. Alien!” and cuts to Allen piecing together film reels with needle and thread.
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