Having been in awe of Glenda Jackson since I was a young slip of a lad, I finally had the privilege of seeing her on stage this weekend in Three Tall Women. There simply aren’t words to describe this actor’s astounding talent and charisma. I was awestruck all over again.
The play itself, of course, is up there with Albee’s finest, and as with all of his finest work, it rather leaves you feeling like you’ve been put through the wringer afterwards (despite the liberal amounts of humor throughout). That humor, though, is of the darker, acerbic kind (being Albee), and when spat or roared from the frail but indomitable performance of Ms. Jackson, I found myself laughing on the outside and curled up into a ball on the inside.
Would have sacrificed a limb to have seen her Lear in London a couple of years ago. A Broadway transfer was attempted, but the plan eventually fell through. But perhaps after her triumph in Three Tall Women, that may finally happen after all at some point. I live in hope.