The Tempest was William Shakespeare’s final complete work, and the playwright struts and frets his hour upon the stage with a tale of political intrigue, sorcery, attempted murder, drunken stupors, revenge and forgiveness. For some this is an island utopia; for others, an allegory of colonialism, with protagonist Prospero weighing in as one of the Bard’s most complex characters. ‘This is Shakespeare’s farewell not just to theatre but to life,’ says TNT founder and Tempest director Paul Stebbings. ‘“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, our little life is rounded with a sleep” is one of the finest lines of poetry ever written. It [tells us] where Shakespeare had arrived after this extraordinary career as poet, philosopher, dramatist, actor and theatre-maker.’
As a father and daughter watch a tempest-tossed ship come aground on their island, Prospero, the former Duke of Milan and part-time sorcerer, tells Miranda that this craft is carrying his mortal enemies. It seems that 12 years ago, his brother Antonio had colluded with Neapolitan King Alonso to seize Prospero’s throne, and set father and daughter adrift on a raft; they survived only because courtier Gonzalo provides supplies and Prospero’s sorcery books. Now, the deposed duke has whipped up this storm to bring his adversaries into his web and secure some long overdue justice.
As criminals and company are washed ashore, Prospero draws Ferdinand, Alonso’s son, into Miranda’s orbit and they fall in love; the future father-in-law even subjects the young man to servitude to test his devotion. And herein lies the Prospero problem. A wise and generally good man, he has some unsettling control issues. His fatherly concern extends to insisting Miranda remain a virgin until marriage, but she is clearly a pawn in his game – she and Ferdinand even play chess to underscore the point. He had released the sprite Ariel from his imprisonment by the witch Sycorax, but the now ‘free’ spirit must serve only him.
Perhaps most disturbing is his treatment of the ‘hagborn, not honoured with a human shape’ Caliban, son of Sycorax. Prospero and Miranda teach him their language and religion, then accuse him of ingratitude. Sure, Caliban – who admits trying to rape Miranda – evokes little sympathy, but he wants his island back. Particularly in Shakespeare’s colonial-era world, these allusions to native populations and their foreign ‘teachers’ had to resonate. Eventually Prospero frees Ariel and Caliban, forgives Alonso and Antonio their treachery, and destroys his magic books; this signals his focus will be on his restored kingdom, not his sorcery.
However, The Tempest is deeper than its story. ‘The drama asks one profound moral question: what is more satisfying: revenge or forgiveness?’ says Stebbings. ‘This supreme work of art is not only philosophical and poetic but funny. It contains monsters, spirits, magic, sword fights, evil courtiers, young love, and some of the finest drunken comedy ever written. And it’s all brilliantly set on one island on one very special afternoon.’
The Tempest is at the Lyceum Theatre at 7.30pm from Saturday April 30 - Sunday May 1, and at 2pm on Monday May 2. Tickets are 60-380RMB.