Week 4: the three-hour play
February 3, 2012
25 November 2011
In rehearsals for The Tempest the cast was split into two groups: the Europeans and the Islanders. We were then asked to come up with a list of words we associated with our group.
Excess, fashion, sovereignty, state, consumption, politics, and wine were some of the European contributions. The Islanders listed: bats, bees, pearls, pine trees, clustering filberts, honey drops.
We then stood facing each other and hurled these words at each other. Sometimes 'bees' was an accusation, 'sovereignty' a proclamation, 'honey drops' a boast, and 'wine' a defence. I found it much easier to attack as an Islander than as a European. Having been bred on post-colonialism, I'm a sucker for the natives.
John Slinger (playing Prospero) argued that Prospero's magical powers and his vision only extend a certain distance from the island, and it's just by chance that his backstabbing brother, the King of Naples, and a host of enemy politicians waver into the waters by the island. Prospero says:
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune
(Now, my dear lady)—hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore; and by my prescience
I find my zenith doth depend upon
A most auspicious star, whose influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
Will ever after droop.
(I.ii. 178-184)
John hypothesised that, caught by chance, Prospero is making the plan on the cuff, and he sees this as his one and only chance for redemption and revenge.
The time pressure in the play is highlighted at the end, when Alonso explains that Ferdinand and Miranda's 'eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours' (V. i. 186.), and in this three hours, Prospero is able to reverse his fortunes and navigate us through multiple story lines on different parts of the island.
As we head into the play, the stakes are very high; there's nothing like a bit of danger to make an actor speak in verse.
by Ankur Bahl
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