The Tempest

Abstract

Reviewed by: The Tempest Lily Freeman-Jones The Tempest Presented by The Globe Touring Ensemble at Shakespeare’s Globe, London. 11 June–29 August 2021. Directed by Brendan O’Hea. Associate directed by Vanessa-Faye Stanley. Design by Andrew D. Edwards. Costumes by Lorraine Ebdon-Price and Becky Gunstone. Music composed by Catherine Jayes. Choreography by Siân Williams. Text by Giles Block. Fight Direction by RC Annie Ltd. With Mark Desebrock (Prospero), Sara Lessore (Miranda), Tom Chapman (Ferdinand), Emma Ernest (Ariel), Stephenson Ardern-Sodje (Caliban/Antonio), Colm Gormley (Trinculo/Gonzalo), Katy Secombe (Stephano/Sebastian), and Anna Crichlow (Alonso). The Globe Touring Ensemble’s 2021 production of The Tempest opened with a collision of styles, as a swinging jazz number performed by the entire cast segued into the plaintive tones of two recorders. These mournful notes built to a shrill pitch, as the storm scene began in earnest. The mingling of moods in these first moments prefigured how this production would balance anxiety against the irreverent joy of community—an apt emotional palette amid the easing COVID-19 restrictions of summer 2021. Of course, a bifurcated structure has always been embedded in the play-text itself. This production emphasized, rather than complicated, the very different moods of the plot and sub-plot. Trinculo and Stephano’s drinking scenes provided riotous hilarity, which offset the studied unease of Prospero, Ariel, and Caliban. However, the slapstick buffoonery of the ship’s passengers somewhat eclipsed the pathos of the island’s inhabitants. There emerged a faint unwillingness to linger on the more sincere, or troubling, parts of the play. This wasn’t solely directorial: the audience themselves certainly seemed to be seeking comfort, rather than challenge, after many lockdowns away from the theater. More than once, lines such as Miranda’s “Your tale, sir, would cure deafness” (1.2.106) or Caliban’s “You taught me language, and my profit on’t/Is I know how to curse” (1.2.364–5) were delivered seriously by actors, but met with uncertain titters from groundlings. If these unexpected reactions discomfited the actors, they did an admirable job of concealing it. Yet, it must be said, this light-hearted mood was facilitated by a relatively straightforward production, which did little to highlight the play’s darker aspects or push them in new directions. Some promising avenues of characterization were left only partly explored. For example, the casting of Mark Desebrock as an unusually young Prospero allowed a different [End Page 180] kind of vulnerability to come to the fore. In a time when there is much talk of white male fragility, Desebrock’s visibly uncertain and anxious patriarch felt doubly well-judged and worth further development. Meanwhile, Emma Ernest as Ariel was a wonderfully tense presence onstage, twitching her fingers and delivering lines with an abrupt jerkiness that occasionally broke into a sob. But Ernest’s misery in enslavement meant her character elicited more sympathy than fear, which slightly undermined Ariel’s more fearsome guises—as when, in one of the most spectacular moments of the performance, she appeared in the balcony space with blood-dipped blades curving claw-like from her wrists. Similarly, Stephenson Ardern-Sodje’s Caliban was not always as formidable as the character often is. He had an explosive entrance: after the usual cry of “There’s wood enough within” (1.2.315), the trapdoor slammed open to reveal a face contorted with rage. His sudden leering when Prospero referenced his attempted assault of Miranda was also powerfully threatening. Yet the cuts made to the script seemed to have truncated some of his interactions with Prospero and Miranda, and many of his lines didn’t find the space to expand as they might. However, the failure of these more profound moments to land meant that the comic scenes shone all the more. The energy in the Globe Theatre palpably lifted as Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano brought the audience into hysterics. Colm Gormley’s deft confidence and timing (perhaps owing to his past background in stand-up comedy) stood out in a production in which speech seemed occasionally to be a little rushed, muttered, or likely to fall through the gaps. His...