Sunday, January 4, 2015

The Tempest

We are such things as dreams are made on; and our little life, is rounded with a sleep.

I decided to start with The Tempest, because according to Anne (Hathaway), that was the last play that she wrote. And although the book was purely fiction, it does give one pause. Some plays demonstrate a woman's sensitivity, no doubt, that is what she is trying to say.

Anyway, I read the play first. I had a battered old copy I bought at some secondhand book sale. I think it was Payless Books. Remember their book sales in Brickfields? Boy was that something.

Anyway, I had The Tempest on my bookshelf for years, always figuring I would get around to reading it when I did my year with Shakespeare. After all, The Tempest was not one of his heaviest plays right? There was a storm and magic and an airy sprite and a brutal savage who was mercifully enslaved (I'm sorry, I know by all the critics that I'm supposed to feel sorry for Caliban and view him through post-colonial lenses, but I don't. He tried to rape Miranda. No punishment, however brutal, is bad enough. I'm surprised Prospero didn't castrate him, which to my mind would have been fitting).

Ultimately it was a tale of revenge. But since Prospero is wise and third person omniscient-like, it is not revenge but justice and retribution. He forgives his usurping brother at the end, although his brother has expressed no remorse and has even plotted against the king (of Naples) meaning that he hasn't learned his lesson. But he does take back the dukedom. And cement his alliance with Alonzo (the King of Naples) by ensuring that his daughter Miranda meets and falls in love with Alonzo's son Ferdinand. Try to top that you childless Antonio!

In the introduction to my beat up old The Tempest, the guy who wrote the foreword said Shakespeare's plays shouldn't be read, they should be heard. The words that seem to make no sense upon the page, requiring constant reference to the footnotes, come alive when you see it performed. Ah, you think. So that's what he meant.

Anyway, I googled The Tempest and came across the 2010 production with Helen Mirren as Prospera. Yes, the main character was a woman who had been cheated out of her dukedom by her conniving brother. You know, some of the speeches seemed to make more sense with a woman saying it. And naturally, Mirren was brilliant.

But she was supported by a stellar cast. They were all good. The play came alive. And there were plenty of special effects which Shakespeare would probably have not approved of (well, I am not sure he would have approved of them changing his principle character to a woman) but it was well done. They substituted the pageant by the three goddesses - Ceres, Iris and Juno with a light show full of stars and magical symbols.

I loved some of the speeches. Especially the one quoted above about how ephemeral life is. But I guess I should have listened to Charles and read the play at least five times to absorb it before I attempted to write anything of it. There was a touch of Romeo and Juliet with Ferdinand and Miranda. Like Juliet she didn't want to seem so easily won. But it was charming that she proposed to him rather than vice versa. And that she offered to carry his sticks for him. And that despite being too easily won, he loved her anyway. It was a Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending. Well, why not? Weren't their fathers sworn enemies? Didn't Alonzo help Antonio usurp Prospero's throne?

But I get the feeling that part of the blame lay with Prospero. As Duke he should have been governing his citizens, rather than getting lost in books and leaving it all to his brother. What do you expect? Naturally his brother would usurp. So maybe the message was to do what you are supposed to do, what you are tasked to do, what you have a duty to do or you risk losing everything, your life included?

Maybe that's why at the end, Prospero destroys his staff and books. He is more than match for Antonio who has come out of this unscathed. Now, he would be vigilant. Now, he would rule as a Duke was meant to rule. I suppose all those years alone on that island with Miranda commanding the spirits of the air and controlling the savage that was Caliban taught him about policy and governance. To rule with a none-too-gentle hand and to be aware of motives, of what is going on in the minds of those around you.

He released Ariel and was sad to see him go. This was played up in the movie - it was more convincing for a woman to display such attachment to the airy sprite. After all, Ariel did her bidding to a T.

Am not sure if I will watch it again. Perhaps. But I do want to move on to other plays. I have just learned that there are 37 plays in total. And I intend to read all of them.

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