The Tempest

by William Shakespeare, directed by Alec Wild
Great River Shakespeare Festival (July 8, 2009)

The Tempest has traditionally been a hard play to categorize. It is often placed with a grouping of plays that are unsatisfyingly called romances. Included in this group are The Winter’s Tale, Pericles, and Cymbelin, which have all been produced by GRSF in the past years. Yet what can make these plays feel unsettling cannot be attributed entirely to their failure to follow structural expectations about comedy or tragedy. The romances ask an audience to suspend reality—using heavy doses of magic to move the plot. The Endings are often happy, if one can be satisfied with delayed happiness or too many lost years. And romances tend not to make a clear delineation between good and evil—evil often goes unpunished and characters are allowed to evolve and repent of their misdeeds. In contrast, in plays like Macbeth and Richard III, the protagonists are driven to evil by a lust for power. The audience can admire the plotting and action for their sheer audacity, yet the audience also understands that these men have reached too far and will get what they deserve.

The Tempest is surrounded by evil with the inclusion of a brother usurping a brother for a dukedom, a brother plotting against another brother for the crown, a plot for revenge, and the presence of witches, spirits, monsters, and magic. And yet, the audience doesn’t enjoy the clear satisfaction of knowing what or who is evil or of being assured that the evil characters will not prevail.

Michael Fitzpatrick as Stephano(eft) and Doug Scholz-Carlson as Tinculo in the Great River Shakespere Festival’s The Tempest.

Orchestrating the action of The Tempest stands Jonathan Gillard Daly as Prospero. Since being shipwrecked on the island 12 years earlier, Prospero has ruled the Island with an iron hand. He has enslaved the only inhabitant of the island as well as the spirits and nymphs who play and make music there. Through magic and diligence, Prospero controls time and circumstance. Daly’s role as Prospero is reminiscent of his powerful portrayal of Richard III in the GRSF’s second year. Like Richard, Prospero seems to relish the power inherent in manipulating people and events. Yet Daly’s Richard made the audience a conspirator in his clearly evil plot. While Daly’s Prospero makes similar confederacy with the audience, his motives and plans are more complex and harder for the audience to understand.

For example, Daly is not only the absolute ruler of the island, he is also the lone parent of the 15-year-old Miranda. And in the second scene where Prospero reveals to Miranda her birth identity, one wonders about his motives. Why has he waited all these years to tell her? Why does he check to see that she has little memory of Milan before telling his story? Why does he use magic to put her to sleep before finishing his tale? Is his affection for his daughter feigned like the affection Richard shows Lady Anne in Richard III? Does he love her, or is she just one more pawn to move in his complex plot?

The play begins under the spell of a tempest that Prospero has conjured to waylay the passing ship containing both King of Naples and Prospero’s brother. The shadow projection of the storm and the waves is both effective and delightful. The storm as well as the unlikely rescue from the storm are carried out by the island’s nymphs and spirits who are in Prospero’s service. These nymphs and spirits add a haunting feel to the play as they are always present, usually propped expressionless in the shadows of the set platforms wearing colorless body suits. Like Prospero, the nymphs and spirits seem menacing, yet they aren’t exactly evil. They are led by the spirit Ariel who is played by Tarah Flanagan. Flanagan presides over Prospero’s scheme as she flies over the island observing and intervening as necessary. On this set, Flanagan, with white hair flaming from her head, flies on the top of a tower near the center of the stage, even remaining aloft during intermission. While she is clearly in Prospero’s service—she is anxious to gain her promised freedom—there is a close bond between the man and spirit. Yet one wonders the same about Prospero’s feelings toward Areal as toward Miranda: does he really love this spirit, or is Areiel just one more pawn in his plans?

The set itself is made of cold metal and is usually darkly lit and inhabited by nymphs. The set platforms leave their steel trusses exposed and move on a cold steel rail. Even the island’s trees and plants are represented by metal pipes, which also serve as weapons. While this island is more like a prison to Prospero than a vacation resort, it seems a bit odd that an enchanted Mediterranean island, which has sustained Prospero and his daughter for 12 years, is presented as a cold, prison-like environment. The environment is a purposeful decision; the production clearly doesn’t want the audience to see the island as an appealing, pastoral setting.

One area where the island is allowed to lose its cool edge (while still maintaining its mysticism) is with music. Shakespeare has the spirits providing unexpected and often joyful music that both amazes and pleases the recently shipwrecked wanderers of the island. Composer Daniel Kallman brings these songs to life with a musical compositions that go beyond setting songs to music. The actors double as orchestra playing a wide variety of instruments, including rain drum, flute, viola, and hand bells. The music so perfectly fits the play that one easily forgets that it is not simply part of the air—even with the actors playing and singing on stage or in the semi-darkened upstage area. The music creates the storm, accompanies the singers, and helps to create the magic of the island.

Special note must be made of Caliban who often serves as a lightning rod for heated discussion about the play. Christopher Gerson answers the question of whether or not Caliban is human or monster with an almost unequivocal “monster” portrayal. Yet what is truly remarkable is that he convinces the audience that he is not human without use of any sort of monster costume (in fact, he is naked to the waist and wears no wig or mask). He seems unable to walk on two legs, seems to be in great pain when he speaks, and displays some unusually double jointed shoulder blades. And while the audience is likely to feel some sympathy for him, the slight deformities displayed by Gerson are enough evidence for Prospero, the new visitors to the island, and the audience that he is not human. Perhaps this is a good indication of how little deviation from the norm people are willing to allow before disavowing someone else’s humanity.

Sharing the stage with Caliban for much of the play is the jester, Doug Scholz-Carlson, and the drunk butler, Michael Fitzpatrick. Scholz-Carlson and Fitzpatrick display much of the same delightful impertinent playfulness that they showed in nearly identical roles in Twelfth Night in 2006 as the clown Feste, and Sir Toby Belch. Equally funny, but on the other end of the spectrum, Nicole Rodenburg plays Miranda with a devotion to her father and a winning innocence that matches Nick Demeris’s sudden and delirious devotion to her (despite the fact that he has just lost his father to the storm, he doesn’t know where he is, and Miranda’s father seems a bit mad.)

In his romances, Shakespeare asks his audience to be satisfied that happiness delayed—sometimes years later—is still worth while, that people can learn from the mistakes of their past, and that people can, after a time, forgive. But these requests are hard for an audience expecting a more timely revenge or repayment. The questions of who is good and who is evil still linger unanswered, and the play ends on the melancholy side of happiness. Even Prospero must remain on stage to ask the audience to be satisfied with the story and the ending, in short, to be satisfied with the fine acting, the powerful music, and the spectacular production. It’s not hard to follow Prospero’s injunction to “release me from my bands/ with the help of your good hands” and applaud at the conclusion of The Tempest (Epilogue 9 - 10). But long after leaving the theater, I’m still applauding the production for telling such a compelling story.

The Tempest plays in repertory with Love’s Labour’s Lost through July 26.

Visit the Great River Shakespeare Festival for schedules and tickets: grsf.org

Minnesota Theatre Preview of Love's Labour's Lost