Theatre Review
Love and Madness present
A review by Mary Couzens for EXTRA! EXTRA!
There is much to admire in Love and Madness’ production of Shakespeare’s final play, The Tempest, as well as a few curious directorial decisions of Jack Shepherd’s to puzzle over. The most notable aspects of the production are its two intriguing lead performances, that of Matthew Sim as Prospero and Nicholas Kempsey as his alter-ego/servant Ariel. Among its more debatable aspects is its inexplicably rushed ending, which weakens the potency of Sim’s powerful performance and thus, unfortunately, the overall impact of the production itself. Sorcerer Prospero was Duke of Milan, until his brother Antonio set him and his three-year old daughter Miranda out to sea and presumably, a certain death. They were however, washed ashore on a desolate island, where they lived for many years hence. As the play begins, we encounter a contemplative Prospero and his innocent teenage daughter Miranda. Caliban, a sort of beast/man, who views himself as rightful monarch of the island has been Prospero’s faithful, if somewhat disgruntled servant. Ariel, a sprite with magical powers whom Prospero released from an evil enchantment, also serves the sorcerer, though he now wants his freedom in return. No-one else sets foot on the island until a tempest caused by Prospero spills the contents of another vessel onto their shores, one on which his brother’s co-conspirator, King Alonso of Naples and his party were returning from his daughter’s wedding in Tunisia. Matthew Sim gives an engrossing, multi-layered performance as Prospero, imbuing the sorcerer with surprising subtleties which make his character very engaging. Having last seen a dramatically thundering Prospero as rendered by Derek Jacobi, I found Sim’s regretfully revengeful, Noh theatre/martial arts/Zen inspired, mystical angles most compelling in contrast. Sarah Straker as Miranda has her work cut out for her playing opposite such a seasoned actor, to be sure, but despite her mastery of teenage glibness, there is little or no chemistry on her side of the equation during her interactions with her ‘father’ Prospero. This unfortunate imbalance causes Sim to turn up his intensity during their moments together, in order to further animate their scenes. While it is most informative and commendable that Sim is able to do so, it fails to disguise the lack of ‘relationship’ between them. Straker is more believable as love interest to ship-wrecked Frederick, amiably played by fresh-faced, young Cliff Richards look-a-like Luciano Dodero. Scenes between Matthew Sim as Prospero and double-jointed Nicholas Kempsey as Ariel, however, fuse like the proverbial hand in glove, for the pair seem to function as two sides of a whole. Kempsey’s silently materializing appearances are like the shadowed wink of a lighthouse in a thicket of fog, as he lightly crouches on the upper rungs of one of two, tall wooden ladders which comprise part of the sparse, but functional stage setting, overseeing the mortals. His light, agile movements are so insect- like that the servant of Bela Lugosi’s Dracula comes to mind as one watches him lithely arch his back, and rest his pale, black-lipped head on Prospero’s shoulder in a potentially sinister gesture of loathing and devotion. So riveting were the interactions between master and servant that I found myself wishing for a smaller space in which to watch these actors’ performances more closely, in order to maximize my focus on them. Speaking of focus, the attentiveness of Sim’s Prospero seemed virtually, unflappable in the face of distractions galore at the matinee performance we attended: a couple of snazzy mobile ring-tones firing off, teens gleefully seat changing in the middle of scenes, and interval lighting coming full on before the actor had ample time in which to make a graceful exit out of the theatre! Lighting person take heed…An additional ice cream sold is not worth running the risk of ruining the effectiveness of a performance! Neil Sheppeck is beastly as Caliban, in a good way – not only is his garbled speech understandable, but it is also understood from his performance that his character is far more intelligent than he has been given credit for. Among the four actors comprising those shipwrecked in the latest storm, Ben Gaule is a convincing stand out, as both Gonzalo and the more comic Trinculo. In a role reversal that Shakespeare himself may have approved of, Lucy Conway subverts tradition by playing Sebastienne, sister to King Alonso, rather than brother Sebastian, as well as the drunken servant Stephania, rather than Stephano. However, Conway is much more convincing using her own accent as the former than when sporting the over-blown Glaswegian one she fires off as the cheery drunkard. Perhaps if the volume and exaggerated edge of her ‘Rab Nesbitt’ inflections were toned down a notch, scenes between Conway and her fellow actors would seem more shared than swallowed. Scenes involving the original shipwrecked foursome also tended to drag at times, and their pacing could do with some piecework. Perhaps four is not a large enough number to make the group seem like a unified unit, so some dis-unification might be in order to enable them to seem so, though, as Greenwich’s run is the final leg of the show’s tour, change is unlikely. Masks and actors are combined in a primal way for scenes in which the notion of sprits or sprits pervade, and, thanks to bursts of mythological inspiration on the part of costume designer Kelly Hogan, together, they generate a feeling that both psyche and sight are in synch with one another. Sound for the production, designed by Jim Bywater is minimal in that it is only used when absolutely necessary, which, in some ways, is preferable, particularly with Shakespeare, as the Bard’s language, when spoken convincingly provides sufficient music for the ears. Having said that, the fierce winds in the opening sequence would be better used if they were more gently tempered, as the actor’s cries are barely audible above their roar. Richard Godin’s onstage lighting is imaginative and effective, apart from in the final scene in which too much of a good thing deadens the sense of mystery. Otherwise, scenes in which lighting suggests mounds of dampened sand or illuminates incantations are finely rendered. Lightening is also in evidence as required, albeit, briefly. The house lights in the theatre itself, however, are quite another story, as they were never dimmed enough to block out shifting teens opposite, or gum-cracking heads in front of us, or, as vehemently stated before, allow Matthew Sim the privilege of being able to exit theatre in character at the interval a normal pace. Despite any or all of the aforementioned idiosyncrasies, I left the theatre with a strong image of Prospero and Ariel as pictured above emblazoned on my mind, along with the fervent belief that I often prefer my Shakespeare a bit rough around the edges, and, on the fringe.
Box Office
Greenwich Theatre Evenings; 7.30pm
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