My first introduction to King Lear was at a school play. My brother, who sits beside me at the Barbican this evening, took the lead role in an abridged version of the play, aged 7, in a regal red fluffy dressing gown that lingered in our house for a good few years. “I don’t remember your mad scenes”, I say to him before the play starts, “I had to sing…” he replies in a muted tone. Suffice to say this production is a little different.
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