 | The Tempest |  |
"Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows." Act II, scene ii
Written: 1611
Classic Stage Company ; September 17, 2008 New York, New York, USA
Director : Brian Kulick ; Starring :
Reviewed on : 2008-09-18 17:26:28 ; Reviewed by : Antonia Mandry
| Race and the legacy of colonialism have become entangled with the process of performing The Tempest. Brian Kulick engages in a complicated dance with the concepts in a thematically murky, yet visually compelling production starring Mandy Patinkin as the vengeance-driven wizard.
The most exciting aspect of the production is the visual approach. The small stage area surrounds a patch of sand above which horizontally hangs a square canvas on a series of pulleys. Before the action starts, the underside, painted with clouds, is exposed to the audience. Subsequently, during the opening storm, the canvas is pulled and pushed to create a tossing motion and exposes the other side of the canvas as a sea complete with miniature sailing ship. Ladders range along the back wall to give both sailors and island spirits a chance to create a vertical line for the stage.
Angel Desai's quixotic and charming Ariel uses these ladders frequently, showing both a childlike wonder and a knowing understanding of what is happening, and a pleading for what she wants. Dressed in swaddling, white clothes that show off not only her bronze skin but also her tattoos, she strikes poses around the stage, and truly shines when she uses her melodious voice in song.
Caliban, played by Nyambi Nyambi, is her alter ego: rooted firmly to the ground, he never reaches to Ariel's heights, and shows this in a scene where he rolls around in the sand and covers himself in it. Ariel, in contrast, barely touches a toe in the sand. Nyambi's commitment to the role is seen even to his spitting of his dialogue and his physical contortions.
An interesting scripting choice is the assigning of the following lines to Miranda (Elisabeth Waterston):
Abhorred slave,
Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes
With words that made them known.
In many editions, these lines are Prospero's and invoke a father-child relationship. In Kulick's decision to give these lines to Miranda, he opens up her character to a wider interpretation and the potential to give Waterston something more to do than her usual doe-like passivity and love-struck stupour. Unfortunately, Waterston and Kulick fail to follow up on this tantalizing glimpse into a deeper, more compelling Miranda, and waste Waterston's talents in a simple simpering performance. The potential for creating a mistress-slave narrative, a racially-forbidden love story, or a wild man-wild girl parallel is lost. Miranda's possible position in the tale is reconfigured momentarily and then relegated back to supporting Prospero's main narrative.
Many of the casting choices are puzzling: why primarily white actors in the "European" roles (save for the Duke of Naples)? Why the casting of many minorities in the "native islander" roles (such as Ariel, Caliban, and other sprites)? Although the pattern in casting regarding race is noticeable, it is by no means consistent, thereby leaving the audience to wonder if the director is trying to draw a parallel to colonialism or if it's just coincidence.
Trinculo (Tony Torn) and Stefano (Steven Rattazzi) combine their comedic talents to create an Italianate Abbot and Costello -- carousing the island with ridiculous and greedy intent. Their performances seem more apt for vaudeville, and their irreverent approach to Shakespeare's clowns is a refreshing relief to the ponderous recitation of lines that other actors neither understand nor find funny. Even their improvisation seems fun, natural and engaging.
Finally, Mandy Patinkin's Prospero has both touches of insight and moments of dreaded repetition. Patinkin shows the former in the small physicalities he brings to the role, most noticeably in the scenes with Waterston: small comforting caresses of her arm, the wiping away of her tears are among the most heartwarming. The latter is displayed by the repetitive circular arm movements he makes when giving his monologues. Patinkin's wizard, dressed in cream linens, inhabits a world of weary vengeance. His attempt to ensnare his enemies on the island with him is carried out almost as if it's been planned for years but the desire for it has long since vanished. His decision to forgive at the end seems as if it was a natural resolution rather than the internal struggle that has marked other performances of Prospero. Patinkin's magician is tired, so that even his "raging" speeches are cropped off real anger and energy.
A quiet production despite sound effects, yelling and music, this interpretation will cause no boat to rock but enhances the humanity of many of the characters -- a humanity that is often lost in other performances of sound and fury. This performance signifies much: vengence is passé.
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Matthew William Peters, 1741-1814
Near the Cell of Prospero
Reviews
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July 26, 2010 |  | Krazy Kat Theatre
November 2, 2009 |  | Theater Freiburg
April 4, 2009 |  | The Baxter Theatre Centre and the Royal Shakespeare Company
February 20, 2009 |  | Classic Stage Company
September 17, 2008 |  | Darker Arts at The Rosemary Branch
February 26, 2008 |  | Ragged Wing Ensemble
January 27, 2007 |  | The Company of Ten
January 26, 2007 |  | Royal Shakespeare Company
August 18, 2006 |  | ODTÜ Oyunculari
April 2005 |  | Adana Devlet Tiyatro
December 17, 2004 |  | Theater Oobleck
April 2003 |  | Chicago Shakespeare Theatre
2001 |  | Royal Shakespeare Company
1997 |  | Showcase Theatre - Richard Burton
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