Ian McKellen has noted that, contrary to conventional wisdom, his career has skyrocketed since he publicly declared himself as gay in 1988. Of course, such a declaration is far less likely to hinder one's prospects if one is a supremely talented, enormously versatile character actor rather than a young Hollywood leading man type who does little more than serve as an object of romantic/sexual fantasy. With his performance in the Royal Shakespeare Company's touring production of King Lear, now on view at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM), McKellen again demonstrates that he's one of the greatest actors of his generation.

Having previously triumphed in such Shakespearean roles as Richard III, Richard II, Macbeth, and Iago, the man known to millions as Gandalf in The Lord or the Rings and Magneto in X-Men employs every iota of his skill in portraying Lear, who discovers to his dismay that filial devotion has its limits.

McKellen is famous for his emotional and physical range, but you've never seen him like this. After a magisterial first entrance during which his eyes seem to already indicate the king's incipient madness, he plays much of the first scene for comedy, referring to index cards and enjoying himself mightily as Lear divides his estate among his daughters. Later, there are more flashes of humor when the king and his knights carouse, as well as in several other scenes.

But McKellen's greatest achievement is in communicating Lear's intense existential pain — whether quietly, when murmuring “I did her wrong” in reference to his daughter Cordelia, or in grand fashion, when raging against the elements on that blasted heath. The performance is full of meticulously crafted moments, yet it seems completely organic rather than a bravura display of McKellen's acting chops, though it certainly is that as well.

At 68, McKellen is in tip-top physical shape, yet he has such control over his body that Lear's physical and mental deterioration over the course of the play is 100 percent credible and deeply moving. (Special note for those who care about such things: In a brief nude scene, McKellen amply demonstrates the truth of Lear's statement that he is “every inch a king.”)

Sir Ian triumphs in the context of a production that would have been far better were it not for director Trevor Nunn's unfortunate decision to present the play virtually uncut. (I did notice four lines missing: Cordelia's asides during Lear's division of his kingdom). The BAM playbill lists the “approximate” running time as three hours and 30 minutes, including intermission, but the performance under review was almost 15 minutes longer than that.

Though Nunn no doubt feels he's honoring Shakespeare in this way, he has actually done the Bard a disservice. In the Elizabethan era, there was much coming and going of audience members during a performance; no one was expected to give a play his rapt attention for nearly four hours. This accounts for the fact that the uncut text of Lear contains many redundancies and superfluities. Judicious editing is necessary to achieve a pointed, focused evening of theater, and it is surprising that Nunn either fails to realize this or disagrees.