I just finished watching Julie Taymor’s recent production of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. It’s received mixed reviews from the human critics, so it’s time for a walnut-brained but literate dinosaur to serve up a positive, if ignorant, opinion.
First, most of the criticisms I’ve read on this production seem to me to flow from the idea that the film needed to capture the atmosphere and purpose of the original stage play, if we can conjure that.
That’s a reasonable point, but a very limited one. In the available number of modern productions, it’s good to have some that we might call classic and some that are a bit more adventurous. Julie Taymor’s 1999 film Titus, for example, re-imagines a much-derided early Shakespeare play, Titus Andronicus, and the result is a revenge masterpiece starring Anthony Hopkins and Jessica Lange, with Harry Lennix brilliantly rendering the villainous Aaron the Moor. (The early 1980’s BBC version of the play was quite good and may have influenced Taymor’s choices, by the way.) Trevor Nunn’s neon-colorful rendition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a joy to behold, and his production of Twelfth Night deserves the highest praise – Imogen Stubbs is perfect as Viola, and Ben Kingsley is remarkable as Feste the Clown. Michael Radford’s The Merchant of Venice does justice to the play, and one Alfredo Pacino is excellent as Shylock, as is Jeremy Irons, who plays Antonio the merchant. I hear that Ralph Fiennes has finished a new production of Coriolanus, and I’m looking forward to its coming out on DVD. Coriolanus is one of those plays like Titus Andronicus that, with bold re-imagining, could be excellent.
It seems to me that Taymor’s film of The Tempest holds up well either way – whether you want something largely faithful to the original or whether you want innovation. Casting Helen Mirren as Prospera adds an interesting gender-twist to the film – Mirren is spectacular as a Shakespearean actor and has been performing the Bard since the 1970s. Roger Ebert somewhat criticizes Taymor’s approach, claiming, if memory serves, that she missed the mellowness or true romance quality of the play. This line of thinking, if I have it right, says that Taymor ended up making Prospera out to be a determined magician aiming to control events and people rather than an elder who senses the approach of her own demise and wants to set things right: to chastise, but forgive and take up a rightful place back in Milan for the short time remaining to her.
But this lizard suggests the following: the truth is – and thus the brilliance of Shakespeare – that the main character is both determined and capable of humility and mellowness. There are many textual clues regarding Prospero/a’s great power and anger at being wronged by Alonso, Antonio, and others. But above all, in a romance play (as in modern times we have come to call certain of Shakespeare’s dramas that refuse easy classification as comedies) there must be some darkness, a real threat of impending tragedy and tyranny, even though the worst doesn’t come to pass (for the main characters, anyway). The Tempest isn’t all mellowness, and if we forget that, we may diminish the chance to recognize that there’s a struggle going on inside Prospero/a. Certainly, we shouldn’t expect only a magisterial series of performances from the wizard demonstrating magical power over cornered enemies, or uncomplicated kindness and humility.
The play’s key line may well come in Act 5, Scene 1, when the protagonist has all enemies in hand: “The rarer action is / In virtue than in vengeance.” To utter words like that requires considerable restraint under great provocation, not to mention an implicit un-denying of humanity’s inveterate denial of death – a psychological fact that figures significantly in Shakespeare’s canon. Taymor’s production, I believe, honors the protagonist’s struggle for self-restraint and drive to use knowledge and power wisely in the face of long-standing and renewed outrage.
The switch in gender that Taymor effects leads her to rewrite Prospera’s explanation for her exile in a feminist direction, but this does nothing to diminish the effectiveness of the play’s conclusion. Prospera gives as her reason for being exiled mainly that her brother used her interest in occult elements of knowledge within the liberal arts to cast her as a witch and get her deemed unworthy of exercising political power. That’s different from the text because Prospero forthrightly owns his scholarly irresponsibility, his refusal to exercise his political powers actively and wisely. In other words, Shakespeare’s male protagonist committed a huge error in judgment: Renaissance scholars were strong in the belief that education and its fruit, knowledge, should be oriented towards virtuous action, not pursued for its own sake only. Taymor’s Prospera, by contrast, is treated badly not because she behaved irresponsibly but rather because she is a woman wielding power thought more properly to reside with a man, so her determination and evident anger are understandable. One other excellent decision on the part of Taymor and Mirren – since I suppose it’s both a directorial decision and a matter of acting skill – is that we are treated to a “Prospera” who not only broods and displays anger but who also seems throughout to be capable of surprise of listening and learning, not just presiding. If the director is going to make a change as significant as altering the protagonist’s gender, she would be wise to make the necessary alterations in atmospherics and emphasis, and that is exactly what Julie Taymor has done.
With the above in mind, and mindful also of Helen Mirren’s impeccable acting, this extinct reptile hereby throws all of its 3300 lbs. dinodupoids on the side of this production and its director Taymor. If I had thumbs, I’d give it two thumbs up, but instead, I’ll just have to give it the standard two short up-and-down nods of the snout, which is the way allosaurids signify strong approval.
Thank you for this reprieve from partisan preoccupations. A much needed break. Your review has peaked my curiosity, and The Tempest is now on my "to do" list. I recall Alfredo's Shylock, a sympathetic, almost haunting, portrayal, I thought. And, yes, Roger Ebert's reviews never impressed me. I saw much merit in films that he often dismissed.
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of Chaka-Shakespeare, here is a New Year's resolution I will try to keep. Last week, I read, George Whitman passed away. He was the proprietor of Shakespeare & Company, a landmark bookstore in Paris. I used to visit often, negotiating the rickety stairs piled high with un-catalogued books. On the top floor, crusty day-old pots and pans and natty mattresses to accommodate the young American hippies who flopped there. I wanted to post a recollection of my encounters with George Whitman and his legendary bookstore, but the holiday rush diverted my attention. Next year ... promise.