Tempest

Tempest – Julie Traymor’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s play innovates by casting Helen Mirren as Prospero. This “gender-blind” casting doesn’t do any harm to the play – in fact, it’s less obtrusive than most “color-blind” casting in Shakespeare where a multi-hued ensemble draws into question issues of paternity and consanguinity, always central themes to the cuckold-obsessed writer. Mirren delivers her lines well and has a steely presence that serves the role well. The rest of the cast does reasonably well. Miranda and her young lover are dull. Russell Brand uses a cockney accent to impersonate Trinculo and is pretty funny. Alan Cummins plays one of the villainous conspirators, as does Chris Cooper – I can never recall their names or exactly how they are related to one another. Ariel is less actor than a bewildering mélange of optical effects – they are impressive, but I prefer the solidity of a person to a haze of double and triple exposures and CGI. Surprisingly, Traymor, famous for her African imagery in The Lion King, doesn’t know what to do with the rebellious subaltern, Caliban – Prospero’s interactions with Caliban seem to embarrass Traymor and she elides over them The film’s landscapes were shot on the big island of Hawaii and are a combination of brilliantly colored badlands, volcanic marl, and exotic-looking jungle. The movie is pretty enough, but there is nothing startling in the way that it is presented. The Tempest is one of my favorite works, a touchstone for me, and so I am always disappointed in seeing the play staged – its imaginary effect is always far greater than the flesh-and-blood enactment of line and role. The most indelible version of this play that I have seen is Peter Greenaway’s Prospero’s Books, a deconstruction of the text with John Gielgud playing all the parts: Greenaway’s conceit is that the play represents an imaginary vengeance perpetrated in an imaginary arena of fantasy. Traymor seems to refer to Greenaway’s concept in the closing images which show books being “drowned” – that is, sinking through the water to the bottom of the sea. I am also an admirer of Paul Mazursky’s filmed version of the play, which, if I recall correctly, re-wrote most of the script with the chutzpah typical of that director. Parts of Traymor’s adaptation moved me sporadically, but, by and large, the exercise seemed perfunctory and a little bit frigid.