First Broadcast 27th February 1980
 |
Michael Hordern opens graves at his command in The Tempest |
Director: David Gorrie
I’ve
always found The Tempest a strange
piece of theatre. In some ways it’s a very tightly structured piece of work –
Act 1 introduces all the characters; Acts 2 and 3 split them into clear
groupings with two scenes for each (Prospero/Miranda/Ferdinand, the shipwrecked
lords, Stephano/Trinculo/Caliban – with only Ariel moving between these
matchings); Act 4 draws them back together in one long scene with Prospero and
Ariel pulling the strings; and Act 5, in another long scene, ties everything up
in a neat bow. It’s the only Shakespeare play I can think of that balances
three simultaneous plotlines like this, and the economy with which it is done
points out the Bard’s strengths as a narrative structuralist – something I
think that often gets missed (not least because many of the plays are at point
flabbily structured).
Now
I think this bow is all too neat, but this is probably related to the fact I
have twice played Antonio and never
really felt I found a convincing reason for why he accepts losing his Dukedom,
and I always found it puzzling that he offers no lines in the final scene to
Prospero (not even to say sorry!) and falls back on cheap cracks about Caliban
looking like a fish. However, that is a very personal note about this play. For
the record I think Derek Godfrey does a decent job here, though he and
Sebastian sometimes seem more like a pair of bitchy whiners than would-be
murderers. But that’s partly Shakespeare’s fault.In other ways this is a bizarre, almost dreamlike play with constant questions over whether what we are seeing is even real, strange inconsistencies in time (Ferdinand seems to have been labouring for days but only hours seem to go by for Stephano and Trinculo), and a vague message about forgiveness threaded through the play (although in other ways Prospero is quite the bully and tyrant). As with As You Like It, Shakespeare is playing with the ideas of theatricality by creating a non-realist dreamlike world, perhaps a tip of the hat to the fact that the Globe theatre company could never have created the actual island setting (and storm) that the play demands.
So creating
the island in a TV studio should really work, right? Well no. Because again the
set is an earnest attempt at creating a “real” location, but rather than going
with bright colours and suggestions of a location on a budget, this island is a
glum, muddy, shabby-looking papier-mache island, with the obligatory rocks,
bushes and birdsong soundtrack, and so overlit that it appears as artificial
and unmagical as possible. It’s all part of a painful earnestness around John
Gorrie’s production that experiments with magic and special effects at certain
moments, but settles for men in tights trudging around a fake beach. It’s flat
and lifeless throughout and lacking in colour in every sense. Every scene is
flatly shot from an “audience” prospective with no attempt made to exploit any
of the potential visual interest of the rocky outcrops that form Prospero’s
shelter.
As
a director, John Gorrie seems at a loss with what to do here with the play,
totally lacking the strong sense of place, narrative drive and visual style
that he brought to Twelfth Night.
This is clear throughout his failure to really exploit the special effects and
editing tricks that TV has available to it. David Dixon’s Ariel disappears into
thin air a few times (usually after a run and jump) and can be seen as a
transparent spirit but that’s about it. He still moves normally (editing isn’t
used to, say, make him appear at one side of the frame than at the other in
quick succession) and in one strange moment he grows massive wings for no real
reason. It stands out in the mind as it
is the only such moment in the play. It’s not helped by the decision to cover 
The
appearance of the rest of the sprites hammers home the problem. The spirits are
either operatic singers or painted male dancers in loin clothes who (camp
alert!) move erotically around their fellow actors and the table of food in A4
S1, all the while gurning their various emotions. These extended sequences look
particularly feeble today, so used are we to far better done (and more
interestingly filmed) group dances on Strictly
Come Dancing. These sequences also go on for a quite considerable time (a
good ten minutes throughout the production is given over to singing and dancing
sprites), more than enough to start biting into any viewer’s interest.
It’s
a shame because it actually starts rather well with the storm sequence, which
has a filmic quality notably absent from the rest of the production – it’s by
far and away the most exciting and well-filmed segment of the film. On close
inspection, yes, this section is clearly as studio-bound as the rest, but it
looks a hell of a lot better and, despite the camera work being pretty flat,
it’s also visually very interesting. There is a motif throughout the production of
characters standing in close-up at edges of the frame, looking in towards the
rest of the action. This seems designed to suggest a sense of the island being
“full of noises” and an atmosphere of watching. Sadly this visual idea doesn’t
carry across very well into the mood of the film, or in the use of Ariel and
the other sprites (the main watchers) – so maybe it was a directorial flourish
rather than an interpretative idea.
The
performances also vary. We should start of course with Prospero himself. Michael
Hordern stepped into the breach as a last minute replacement for John Gielgud
after scheduling prevented the great man from appearing. Hordern gives a lot of
vocal strength to his interpretation, making Prospero into a sort of retired
university don, his weathered features nicely suggesting the years he has spent
in harsh conditions on the island. He also brings some of the sharpness and
testiness of a bitter old man to his interactions with others, as well as a
possessive neediness over Miranda (the sequence in A1 S1 where Prospero effectively
outlines the backstory and constantly asks her to affirm she is listening is
very good). His Prospero is a country gentleman driven to fury against those
who have wronged him, scolding them like a schoolmaster and imperiously ruling
over events with the air of one born to the position. But he also brings a
great little note of sadness at the end of the play, realising that, with the
loss of his staff and the island, he has surrendered everything which made him
unique – it leads in very nicely to the famous final speech, where Hordern
breaks the fourth wall and addresses the viewer directly.
However,
when it comes to his daughter, I’m not quite sure what he’s worried about to be
honest. Real-life cousins Christopher and Pippa Guard are so lacking in
chemistry that the chances of him undoing her “virgin knot” seem remote to say
the least. Christopher Guard makes nothing of the part of Ferdinand, here an
earnest but terminally dull young man with no sense of character. Pippa Guard
wildly overacts as a simpering and wet Miranda, her performance painfully over-theatrical
in both vocal mannerisms and gestures. Rarely has such a chaste pairing been
seen on screen.The shipwrecked lords also give similarly uninspired performances. Derek Godfrey and Alan Rowe do the best that they can with the complete lack of interpretative depth given to Antonio and Sebastian. John Nettleton’s Gonzalo is little more than a silly old buffer. David Waller gives a strikingly poor, disengaged performance as Alonso. Over-dressed in tights and period detail, the two scenes concentrating on this group fall totally flat.
So,
for the first time in this series, it’s the comedy pairings that really work.
Nigel Hawthorne brings an excellent bombastic quality to Stephano. He combines this
with a great playful quality – in A4 S1 he even plays the “I begin to have
bloody thoughts” line with a playful glee, as if revelling in new-found
naughtiness. It’s a performance full of relish at assuming a position of
grandeur and is actually funny – no mean feat in this series, as we have seen.
Andrew Sachs backs him up nicely as Trinculo, although he does seem a little
like an English Manuel. Warren Clarke’s tortured Caliban is a highlight
however, bubbling with resentment in A1 S2 but also moved to tears at
remembering Prospero’s past kindness, a fragile neediness in his character
making his later joyous embracing of Stephano make sense.
This
is a decent adaptation of a play that can often come across as slightly flat
production, with many lightly sketched characters. There are some decent
performances, but it’s muddily filmed and rather dull in places and lacks a
real sense of drama. There are some solid performances but nothing outstanding,
although Hordern, Hawthorne and Clarke do some good work. I’m not sure a film
can be really made of this most theatrical of pieces, but I’m certain that a
better fist of it can be made than this production.Conclusion
Not going to win any new fans to the play, this ticks all the boxes but does so with such diligence you can almost picture the director and producer clasping a clipboard and pencil during filming. Not the worst film, but certainly not the best.
NEXT TIME: It’s the big one – Derek Jacobi returns to play the Dane (for what must have been the 700th time in his life) in Hamlet.
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