A great many people have been expecting a great deal from the John Eyre production of King Lear. The finished product is a fine one, but it may not meet all expectations.

The play could not go very far wrong with Harold Scott in the title role; for the greater part of the evening his performance is unbeatable. Scott brings out the wry eerieness of the mad Lear beautifully, without indulging in the cheaper kind of shock effects. He is even better in the pathos and grandeur of the last scenes, in which he is nicely complemented by Mikel Lambert's Cordelia.

Only in the first scene can there be any avil with Scott. Here Lear emerges as a hard old man, virile and violent, and with only occasional traces of madness or senility. It is difficult to conceive of this Lear surrendering any part of his kingdom; he is a rash old reprobate living out his life at the top of his lungs.

Scott is so good an actor that he can almost get away with this, but his approach seems to have infected a great part of the cast, and they cannot. Earle Edgerton and Lucienne Schupf, playing Cornwall and Regan, delivered even the most trivial lines with appalling vehemence. John Baker's Edgar suffered from the same virus--although he was excellent in the Poor Tom scenes--while Gerald Medearis' performance of Edmund was in the best tradition of Errol Flynn.

Each of these four acted as if they had no confidence in the lines they were delivering, and felt that power and feeling could come only from histrionics. Frederick Morehouse and Jo Linch were more successful if only because they seemed to respect the words they spoke, and knew what they meant.

The most controversial performance is Eugene Gervasi's Fool. Gervasi's every moment was tremendously stylized, to the point where he seemed to have rehearsed in someone else's production. But he spoke better than most, and his mournful grace made a good foil for Lear's frenzy. Only in the scene on the heath did his method fail.

But aside from Scott, the finest acting was by Mark Mirsky and Arthur Lewis, as Gloucester and Kent. Gloucester is essentially a less exalted and more human Lear; Mirsky sustained this perfectly, and managed to dodder convincingly in the bargain. Lewis made a secondary role important with a stalwart, knowledgeable and nicely articulated performance.

Although director Stephen Randall would have done well to have reined in the louder-voiced members of his cast, his blocking was superb throughout. While most undergraduate directors can be said to have done well if they have kept their players off each other's toes, Randall continually enhances the meaning of what is said through his manipulations of the mute actors. Furthermore, he managed to keep his cast from wandering at random when they have nothing better to do, and this gives his production a real beauty never seen on this side of the Charles.

Mr. Randall's efforts are augmented by fine music, lighting and sets; designers Chermayeff and Martin have constructed a stage which slopes upwards from the footlights, and have ornamented it with a series of stark, handsome and flexible sets.

Mr. Eyre's Lear, then, has a great many attractive features, some excellent actors, and the Great Scott. But it also has its serious flaws; a production which might have been memorable is only notable.