Ahead of its screening at the Irish Film Institute, Neil Cadieux crowns King Lear (1987).
King Lear remains one of cinema’s greatest one-sided conversations. Rather than dogmatically adapt its source material, this film concerns itself with open-ended queries on art and time. Its namesake becomes a lens from which Godard can dissect imagery and literature. Musings on cinema’s afterlife are paired with slowed-down Beethoven and incessant seagull squawking. A mildly exploitative, and potentially real-life prank against Norman Mailer is referenced in the first ten minutes.
Joining him are Burgess Meredith and Molly Ringwald, playing ethereal renditions of Lear and Cordelia. They appear to exist within two of the film’s three different approaches to its namesake. This classification of the film’s structure comes from one of its many title cards. These slides show up regularly and consist of black backgrounds with white text. The text contained within ranges from ‘King Lear: Fear and Loathing’ to ‘King Lear A cLEARing’. It remains unclear whether these statements exist within the realms of parody, sincerity, or both.
Regardless, taking anything at face value in a narrative where ‘William Shakespeare Junior the Fifth’ is named protagonist is a fool’s errand. It is the late eighties now, and any adherence to the sensibilities of the Nouvelle Vague is gone. Off-kilter in-jokes and fragments of theory assault the eyes and ears. Most of the plot chronicles Shakespeare V’s attempts at gathering excerpts of his ancestor’s works and making a film from his findings. Released one year after the 1986 Chernobyl explosion, the film imagines a post-apocalypse in which the majority of art is nonexistent. Sentiments and notations on art’s mortality are beautifully explored, offering glimpses at what Godard would return to years later. These occasionally contradictory and borderline nihilistic theories on imagery haunt his later filmography. The seeds are being planted here.
Defying this bleak subject matter is Godard’s playful form. Breathtaking wide shots of Lake Geneva look excellent yet appropriately unpolished. Godard himself appears as a cigar-smoking collaborator who helps Shakespeare V create his post-apocalyptic artwork. Woody Allen plays a man named Mr Alien. Naturally, he offers inscrutable film-making advice to Shakespeare V as they edit a film together. This bizarre manner of wit is wholly committed to lampooning all corners of film and fiction. Its artistic and historical commentary arrives fast and freely. By way of a reality-blurring wink and nudge, nothing is left untouched. Even the words of Shakespeare become a catalyst for discussion.
Embodying this ethos is Shakespeare V himself, played by American theatre director Peter Sellars. He is not particularly charming or intelligent, yet his role is essential. As a newly minted innovator in a world stripped of art, his charmless voice and manner feel appropriate. His plight seems to be something that Godard is charmed by and approves of. Shakespeare V seemingly manages to recreate cinema and artistic expression. With the help of ghostly collaborators, he successfully adapts the work of his ancestor. In his parody of the medium as a whole, Godard finds some faith in cinema’s legacy. This is a theme that would eventually bend and morph into other, more worried forms. With King Lear, he provides a messy starting point for future attacks on cinema. It is as pleasingly difficult as ever.
Screening as part of Truth, 24 Frames per Second: The Films of Jean-Luc Godard, King Lear screens at the Irish Film Institute on Wednesday 18th March 2026.
