The Tempest

The Tempest is very likely the last play Shakespeare wrote without collaboration, first performed in 1611. It is unique among his plays for observing the three unities: time, place and action, and also in that he did not use a source for the story, although it may have been inspired by a shipwreck off the coast of Bermuda in 1609 and Montaigne's essay on cannibals of the Caribbean. It is also the only one of his plays that deals substantially with the concept of the New World.

Princeton's Theater and Dance Department mounted a production of the play, which I saw over the weekend. It was directed by a student, Ronee Penoi. It is the third production of the play I've seen: the George C. Wolfe production by the New York Shakespeare Festival, with Patrick Stewart as Prospero, and a McCarter Theater production, which made Prospero a woman, played by Blair Brown. Many modern productions of The Tempest embrace the concept of the themes of the New World and colonialism, mostly in the depiction of Caliban. This, according to Harold Bloom in his book The Invention of the Human, is a mistake. Caliban, he writes, should not be considered a heroic, indigenous figure, but instead a creature outside of nature, bred by a witch and a sea-devil; half-man, half-fish, a group which has no anti-defamation lobby.

Bloom would have been pleased by Penoi's production, for she does not treat Caliban as an exploited indigenous population, but instead as he is written, a monstrous and sniveling aberration. Unlike Wolfe, Penoi does not endeavor to make the setting Caribbean in flavor, instead the set is almost Beckettian in its minimalism: a rock, a tree branch, and a sun are the only items breaking the bare stage.

For those who are unfamiliar with the play, Prospero is the deposed Duke of Milan, usurped and set adrift with his baby daughter, Miranda, by his conniving brother, Antonio. He raises her on the island, and studies his books to become a very powerful mage. He is served by Caliban, the monster who was dammed by a witch, now dead, and a spirit, Ariel, whom Prospero freed from a spell by the same witch. Both Caliban and Ariel long for their freedom, though Ariel serves his master with unflinching loyalty (at one point he asks his Prospero if he loves him, and cares a great deal to hear the answer) while Caliban is much more rebellious, even going so far as to trying to rape Miranda.

As the play begins, Prospero has divined that his enemy, Antonio, is on a ship passing by, along with the King of Naples, Alonso, his son Ferdinand, and some servants. Prospero, with Ariel's help, whips up a tempest to wreck the ship and bring all ashore unharmed, where Prospero will set in motion a plan to bring them all together and gain his vengeance.

I'm always up for some Shakespeare (I have seen a production of every one of Shakespeare's plays, except for Henry VIII and The Two Noble Kinsmen, plays he collaborated on with John Fletcher) even if it is amateur, and I was pleasantly surprised by this production. Penoi's greatest strengths are an eye for striking visuals. In addition to the great set, designed by Lee Savage, is a top-notch lighting design, by Bryan Keller. Penoi and her team strike some marvelous tableau.

As someone who was immersed for four years in college theater, I am not surprised by some of the casting choices she made: six characters that were written male by Shakespeare are played by women as women. This is a fact of life in college theater: men are tough to come by, while there are plenty of women vying for roles. I'm sure Penoi wasn't making a feminist statement, she just was playing the cards she was dealt. Ariel being played by a woman is not unusual, even in professional productions, but it was a bit jarring to see Antonio, Alonso, and even Trinculo the jester feminized.

As for the actors, I was impressed overall, particularly by Alex Limpaecher as Ferdinand, who seemed to be channeling David Schwimmer a bit to fine comic effect, and Dominique Salerno, as Ariel, who really can command the stage, although she seems to really want to play Puck. Jon Feyer makes a good Caliban, and Jordan Kisner brings the right amount of innocence and sass to Miranda. Unfortunately, the cast has a gap in the center, as Hans Rinderknecht is a weak Prospero. When I see amateur theatricals, the biggest separation from professionals is the ability to use one's voice to fill a room, and Rinderknecht needs vocal training, as even in row J I had trouble hearing half of what he said. Also, Prospero should be a majestic figure, a powerful wizard who is itching for revenge, but Rinderknecht is more like a youth minister.

As for the play's many themes, as stated before, Penoi doesn't touch the colonialism angle so much. Instead I felt more the forgiveness that Prospero is able to express at the end of the play. Although there is little religion in the words of the text, Prospero is a Christ-like figure, and that comes across in the direction. Many readings of the play consider Prospero to be a stand-in for Shakespeare, as his interplay with Ariel also seems like a director speaking to an actor (or perhaps a writer to a director) and his famous speech at the end of the play:

But this rough magic
I here abjure, and, when I have required
Some heavenly music, which even now I do,
To work mine end upon their senses that
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book

Is seen by some to be Shakespeare's farewell to his art. Whether this is true or not (there is no evidence to suggest Shakespeare knew it was the end) it is certainly poignant when though of that way.