The Moral Apathy of Nature in McKellens King Lear: An Evaluation of Act IV, Scene 6

An emotionally and thematically rich interaction between Lear and Gloucester occurs in Act IV, Scene 6 of
King Lear. Thus far in the play, Lear has been cast out by his daughters and driven almost entirely mad.
Gloucester has fared no better, having been deceived by his scheming son and blinded for his devotion to
the king. 80 lines into the scene, Gloucester and his illegitimate son Edgar encounter Lear at the height of
his exilic insanity. Interestingly, the McKellen film adaptation of Lear (which is based generally on the 1623
version of the play) interprets this scene as a testament not primarily to the madness of the king but to the
more terrifying absurdity and moral apathy of nature itself this interpretation is established principally via
the films extra-textual uses of staging, body language, and line delivery.
Before defending this claim, I should briefly note that my analyses of these three filmic elements follow a
sequence in which I see them affecting the viewer not chronologically but impressionistically. This means, in
effect, that no piece of evidence I cite purports to be persuasively support my thesis in isolation from the
scenes other elements. The interpretative significance of these parts belongs to the scene as a whole.
That said, McKellens Lear interprets the scene as a testament to natures moral apathy first through a
number of staging decisions it makes. The entire scene unfolds against a bleakly lit wilderness backdrop,
colored only by a barren tree, an unimpressive range of dead grass, and a bland swath of dirt. This scenic
depiction of nature is thus not only unattractive but also distressingly ephemeral there is no sense here
either of nature being rooted in a transcendent supernaturality beyond itself or of it possessing enduring
quality within itself. The stagings emphasis on worldly transience suggests already to viewers the absence
of abiding realities not least of which are moral principles and structures at work within the decaying
natural order.
Moreover, the only natural life present in the scenes layout (save the actors) is the perpetual, audible
chirping of birds in the background. This chirping can plausibly be understood, by virtue of its sharp
juxtaposition with the three mens cries of anguish, to here be patronizing or even mocking humans in
their despair the birds function, in effect, as voices with which nature can respond to Lears Jobian
criticisms. But nature answers neither by offering Lear a perspective with which he might bear his suffering
nor by respecting him enough to leave him alone: it responds to him derisively with the indifferent,
indefatigable warbling of birds. The McKellen scene thus suggests that nature is not only not morally governed,
but is at times patently cruel to its inhabitants.

These inhabitants the humans are suggestively staged by the film as well. Almost no frames in the
scene, even those in which Lear monologues at length, present the king in isolation from his companions.
Whereas the text of Lear, read straightforwardly, focuses almost entirely on the suffering of Lear here, the
staging of McKellens film thus turns the focus to the more general suffering of humanity. The misfortune
not only of Lear but also of Gloucester, Edgar, and (one imagines) innumerable others is implicitly
presented as one tragic, terrible, and collective whole.
The collective suffering of these characters (and, consequently, the films cosmically themed interpretation
of this scene in general) is ever further suggested by the body language of the films actors. Gloucester, for
instance, spends the vast majority of the scene sitting on the wilderness ground, turning his bloodied,
grayed head uselessly around as he weeps and mumbles. The visual this body language creates is
emotionally devastating, and makes Gloucesters suffering manifest in a way that the text alone does not.
This added stress on Gloucester, as argued above, serves to emphasize the shared, collective, natural
suffering that Gloucester and Lear participate in together as humans.
Lears own body language is no less significant here. As he sermonizes to Gloucester about how this
world goes, he sits himself down next to his companion and, upon Gloucesters weeping, cradles him
sympathetically like a child. Shortly thereafter, he loudly mimics his fellows weeping, allowing his feigned
wailing to escalate into a full-fledged shout of fury toward the heavens. The significance of these actions is
twofold. First, they even further establish visually the shared suffering of these characters. Second, and
more interestingly, they vindicate Lears sad decrying of nature in a profound and paradoxical way: What
could be more pathetic or ridiculous than the sight of two formerly reputable old men one blind, one
crazy cradling each other in ragged clothes, sitting helplessly the wilderness, pontificating about the ways
of the world and shouting in outrage at the sky? It is precisely this spectacular ridiculousness, in fact, which
renders Lears bemoaning of life in this world so serious and resonant.
Finally, the force and meaning of Lears points are made particularly clear by Ian McKellens line delivery,
which further evidences the films interpretation of the scene as a testament to the natures apathy. Lear, as
played by McKellen, fluctuates emotionally in delivering his lines throughout the scene, variously hitting
peaks of insanity, sorrow, and anger. The tones with which he delivers particular lines or monologues
tellingly reflect his perception of the scenes larger meaning. He delivers his first short monologue
concerning the betrayal of his daughters (ll. 96-104), for instance, in a quietly depressed and defeated voice.
His second monologue, which is rooted in the same subject as the first but drifts wildly off-topic (ll.

108-130), is spoken in a similarly soft tone (even his noteworthy exclamation Fie, fie, fie! pah, / pah! is
delivered as a hushed whimper).
When, however, Lear begins speaking not only of his misfortune but of how this world goes, his emotion
begins to flair violently up in the form of anger (ll. 145-146 emphasis added). The first substantial instance
of this anger occurs as he delivers his monologue about the worlds lack of justice (ll. 142-165) the second
turns up when, as mentioned above, he turns his gaze upward and shouts toward the heavens and the third
and most intense arises in his final monologue, in which he furiously preaches to Gloucester that
When we are born, we cry that we are come / To this great stage of fools (ll. 171-172). McKellens
delivery of these lines regarding the world are charged with a rhetorical and emotional force that he does
not attach to lines regarding his own misfortune, his own daughters, his own foolishness, etc. It is not his
situation but nature which inflames him most.
The scenes main point, then, does not concern Lears own downfall so much as the lamentable existence
of humanity in an absurd world.The way this scene is interpreted and enacted has tremendous bearing on
how King Lear is to be understood as a whole, inasmuch as it truly gives shape to the plays central storyline
and message. Is Lear the unfortunate unfolding of foolish humans actions, or an inevitable expression of
natures characteristic disorder? Is nature steadfastly opposed to justice? If so, to what degree is the
establishment of human systems of justice possible (or even worthwhile)? It is difficult to imagine a more
crucially important set of interpretative questions. If McKellens adaptation is correct, Lear is emphatically
not a mere historical tragedy it is, in fact, no less than a portrait of the tragic reality we each always
already inhabit as human beings.