Not his last play (for he had collaborated with George Wilkins on Pericles, Prince of Tyre [c. 1609] and would later do so with John Fletcher on Two Noble Kinsmen [c. 1613] and Henry VIII [c. 1613]); nevertheless, Shakespeare truly bid goodbye to the stage with his ephemeral, poignant The Tempest (c. 1610).
It is an enchanted tale imbued with magic, spirits, a monster described as half fish, songs, dances, political machinations, love at first sight, and an elaborate masque. As if spun out of gossamer like A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Tempest whisks you away, after a frightening introductory shipwreck scene, to a faraway isle ruled by the magician Prospera and her nubile daughter Miranda.
As you may know, in the original the magician is Prospero, and the play has a father/daughter dichotomy which is blunted in this Houston Shakespeare Festival production. Prospero is commanding and has a short fuse – he’s lost his duchy after all – and the patriarchy suits Shakespeare’s theme. Female Prosperos have been in vogue of late, what with Vanessa Redgrave and Helen Mirren giving a go on London’s West End, so the casting isn’t that off-putting, it just shades the play differently and gives it a softer edge. It still works, but there’s deeper resonance with a Dumbledore rather than a Circe.
The only other creatures on the island are Prospera’s slaves, Caliban and the fairy Ariel. Years earlier, Prospera, the rightful heir to the duchy of Milan, had been usurped by her brother Antonio and cast adrift with her infant daughter and subsequently shipwrecked on this island inhabited by Caliban. She enslaved him by magic and then set free the sprite from imprisonment in a pine tree and promptly made him her servant, too. She’s not beyond punishing Caliban with nettles and bee stings, nor tempting Ariel with promises of freedom. She’s a tyrant, but a judicious one, somewhat like the former Virgin Queen and the present King James. Shakespeare knew instinctively how much he could tweak royal noses.
This being Shakespeare at the pinnacle of his career, there’s much more, of course, as the play overflows with low comedy, murder plots, revenge, and ultimate redemption and forgiveness. It’s as if he threw everything he knew about scene construction, character arc, tension and release, and what the audience wants, onto the stage and then set it ablaze under the most fragrant poetry.
But there’s also an unmistakable tinge of sadness to this fairy tale with its young lovers, sprites, monsters, and drunken sailors. Prospera returns to her duchy in Milan but gives up her magic powers to do so. They are no longer necessary. She breaks her staff and throws her books of spells into the sea. She says goodbye. It is impossible not to think of the Bard symbolically doing the same thing. He had worked in the theater almost three decades as playwright, actor, company co-owner. He never stopped working except when the plague would close the London playhouses, and then the King’s Men would tour the provinces. He had to be exhausted. After the Globe burned down to the ground in June, 1613, during a performance of Henry VIII when a cannon effect started the thatch roof on fire, he went back to his family in Stratford-upon-Avon. Three years later he was dead.
The Houston Shakespeare Festival production is one of their best in seasons. It’s been 20 years since The Tempest has played Miller Outdoor Theatre, and the wait proves glorious. Ingenious in its staging, looking like a child’s picture book, and acted to a farthing, Shakespeare’s magnificent, almost-final opus comes wondrously alive.
With her velveteen voice and royal stage presence, Laura Frye rules the stage, abetted by Wesley Witson’s lighter-than-Ariel, and Micah Weese’s stunning turn as Caliban. Draped in what looks like dried seaweed, Weese growls and purrs his revenge fantasies about Prospera while moaning plaintively about his dreams of freedom. With deep baritone howl he sings a poignant ditty about his life, and stops the show.
As young lover Ferdinand, Jaiden Cunningham almost turns shyness into a plus, but the ardent lover is not to be found. The supporting cast does Shakespeare proud: Brock Hatton and Woody Minshew as the potted sailors Trinculo and Stephano score touchdowns with their broad comedy routines; Madison Prentiss is a dewy virginal Miranda, hot to trot but Mother says no; Brandon Morgan and Forrest Stringfellow make the perfect perfidious plotters; while Jack Young, HSF’s artistic director, as wise court councilor Gonzalo, could give lessons on how to speak Shakespeare as naturally as possible. And forgive me if this attribution is wrong, but I think it was Miranda Marquez, as Ceres, who sings so ethereally in the Wedding Masque scene.
The Tempest gets four-star production values from director Sharon Ott whose pacing is impeccable; Jon Young’s driftwood inspired set; Jodie Daniels’ fantastical costumes; Clint Allen’s dramatic lighting; Steve LeGrand’s atmospheric sound design. The composer of the moody, alien-sounding music is not listed in the program, but I assume it might be music director Sam Gonzalez. If it be he, then bravo! And Travis Prokop’s sprite-ly choreography for the Sprites (Fiona Beeton, Thatcher Chase, Jared Guidry, and Miranda Marquez) is appropriately breezy and feather light.
The Tempest is but one of many Shakespearean masterpieces, but it possesses its own unique power to transport you out of the ordinary and make you believe in fairies, magic, and mythical beasts. There’s a line from Sebastian after a feast conjured by Ariel disappears in front of his eyes, “Now I will believe that there are unicorns.” Seeing HSF’s The Tempest, so will you.
The Tempest continues at 8:15 p.m. Friday, August 7. Miller Outdoor Theatre, 6000 Hermann Park Drive. For more information, call 713-743-3388 or visit uh.edu/shakespeare. All performances are free. Tickets are required for the covered audience area and are available at 10 a.m. the day before the performance. Seating on the hill is first come, first serve.
