Review of ‘The Tempest’: “O brave new world”

Film star Sigourney Weaver lands on the West End stage with this new, limited-running reimagined production directed by Jamie Lloyd. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if for this edgy interpretation of the Bard’s masterpiece, the crimes would pardoned be.

“O I have suffered with those that I saw suffer”. It’s surprising how accurately Shakespeare’s own quote reflects the critical status quo for the highly anticipated new West End production of his late fantasy comedy. It’s even more shocking, nonetheless, that I find myself in a position of moderate disagreement. I’m not trying to play the smartest one in the bunch (I already know I am…) by going against the herd. And God knows that the moment I start being kind, that will be my execution day. But perhaps this version of The Tempest has left me a little star-struck (no pun intended).

In all fairness, Jamie Lloyd’s signature far-fetched style has found its way to hook me this time – and almost for the entire jaunt. Yet, it’s equally important to notice that, from all the aspects of his directional approach, it’s only the aesthetics that have ended up holding all the cards, as well as the rest of the montage, against the deluge.

Following his trademark of reinterpreting the classics, almost to the point of bringing them upside down, Lloyd’s take on the Bard’s masterpiece leans on the darker angle to depict the tale of Prospero and (this time) her personal vendetta. An empty, black-box stage serves as the basis for the eerie, almost terrifying universe its humorous characters inhabit. Greyish dunes towering on a cratered ground shape the landscape of its hazed atmosphere. And cold, expressionist lighting gives the remaining strokes of this spectral canvas – where emotions are wrapped under a shadowy cloth of impassioned iciness.

Reimagining Shakespeare is obviously a challenging task. So is analyzing him. And it’s even more daunting to do it when the director opts not to go by the book. Turning tragedy into comedy is comprehensibly easy – it doesn’t take much difficulty for us to laugh at somebody’s plight (it’s actually the best kind, and that’s why enjoy hearing so much about my friends). But the other way round is a mischievous mistress that’s guaranteed to trick you at some state. This has been no exception.

Despite its rather compelling visuals, relying on generally well-executed, eye-catching traditional techniques (its off-putting bare backstage is a different conversation), the montage fails to provide the same level of enticement when it comes to its storytelling abilities. The problem resides in its lack of aim, as well as cohesiveness, regarding the type of show it attempts to be. At the start, we are presented with a sensually dark thriller with an epic setting. But by the middle of Act One, the jokes can’t restrain themselves anymore – and inevitably, its unmatching delivery can’t cope with the cargo, and begins to sink.

The performance remains enjoyable up until the piece’s conclusion, when its confusing blocking brings the production’s main issue all the way up to the surface, and its cracks commence to emerge on the deck: there might be an understanding of the play’s content, but probably not of its essence – and if there is, that has been deliberately overlooked. As a result, we are left with an experimental tryout that excels in its stylistic terms, but wrecks its narrative purposes by prioritizing form over substance. You don’t need to be a hardcore connoisseur to realize that, when dealing with a Shakespearean work, one side can’t be without the other.

Taking revered film legend Sigourney Weaver into the London scene, her efforts as protagonist Prospero are not far from commendable. Venturing into such a literary titan, when your previous experience in that field only encompasses your University training -over 50 years ago- and one professional credit, must not be a smooth process. And for that, some acknowledgment should be given. There’s a soft grasp of poetic cadence in her interpretation, as well as sentiment; and her acting also manages to build some thin presence. However, as a viewer, we can’t help but feel slightly alienated (pun intended) from her portrayal – unable to convey enough flavour, confidence and, ultimately, connection with us due to the lack of intricacy and naturalness we are offered.

Such criticism, nonetheless, does not reflect the impressions the rest of the company makes – many of them being, in all honesty, truly brilliant. Among them, the first mention goes to Jude Akuwudike as Alonso, for a solemnly gripping performance that, despite his somehow unexploited possibilities from a directional perspective, is anyway enduring. On the other hand, James Phoon comes to the front too through his charming, old-way rendition of Ferdinand – carrying out his part with inherent flair and vigour. Yet, the biggest praise goes to Mason Alexander Park as Ariel, giving a most extraordinary and captivating act exuding confidence, stamina and complete command over their personage.

Sailing the high seas of the theatrical repertoire, but struggling to lead its endeavours to a safe harbour, Jamie Lloyd’s handling of The Tempest will not require him to go down with the ship. However, while some of his decisions ooze the exploratory magnificence that defines his brand, a great deal of them contribute to exactly the opposite effect – perhaps not with sufficient force to maroon the entire project, but delible enough to leave its audiences, at some bits, all at sea. There’s a fair degree of allure to be pleased by, and prevent the voyage from being a swim-or-sink situation. But there’s hardly any wonder that Lloyd may have rocked the boat a bit too much with this one.

All pictures credit to Marc Brenner.

The Tempest plays at London’s Theatre Royal Drury Lane until 1 Februrary. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara