by William Shakespeare
seen at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon on 13 June 2026
Richard Eyre directs Kenneth Branagh as Prospero with Ruby Stokes as Miranda, Amara Okereke as Ariel, Ashley Zhangazha as Caliban and Fred Woodley Evans as Ferdinand in a production designed by Bob Crowley.
A previous RSC production featuring a famous actor returning to the fold (Simon Russell Beale) made a point of using sophisticated computer technology to enhance the magical aspects of Prospero's island (see my review from 19 July 2017). In this new production, with Kenneth Branagh acting for the RSC again after many years, the stage is almost completely bare, with a large slightly raised circular platform; a backcloth allows for projections of a storm, and more tranquil island sunlight, and it is occasionally opened to reveal a further cloth put to similar uses.
The opening storm is thrillingly evoked with projected rain in a wild gale, and waves apparently surging on the stage floor, while the circular platform tilts alarmingly. A directorial decision has been made to have Prospero appear quietly before all this starts, donning mage-like robes and taking up a wand to create the storm, more like the conductor of an orchestra, since the wand was essentially a conductor's baton. Should we not be led to believe that the storm is real, until we discover with Miranda in the second scene that it has been confected by her father? It's just a little awkward to have Prospero so relentlessly visible during the storm when attention should be fully on the hapless ship's crew and passengers.
Branagh's Prospero, though almost entirely in control of all he surveys, is not particularly dictatorial; the long conversation with Miranda was without the emotional tension it sometimes has, allowing for a more genial father-daughter relationship. He has more steeliness in relation to Ariel when she provokes him, and to Caliban who is always provocative, and he pursues his plan of vengeance methodically until the moment when he (to the surprise of the three sinful men, and perhaps himself) offers forgiveness. The overall effect, though of course Branagh has a masterful command of verse-speaking, is somewhat muted in comparison with more volatile interpretations of the character in other productions.
The burgeoning love between Miranda and Ferdinand is nicely played out, and Ferdinand looks suitably sweat-bound after carrying logs for hours in the island's heat. Fred Woodley Evans did not quite have the bearing of a prince, but he was an engaging young man struck suddenly with love for a dazzling young woman.
Stephano and Trinculo representing the low-life of the court were suitably sozzled and clownish, but Caliban's initial subservience to them perhaps strained credulity since he was not portrayed as an almost inarticulate monster. This production chose instead to emphasise that Caliban had in fact been deprived of what he may legitimately have thought of as his inheritance by the arrival of the more powerful Prospero (though this can't be a matter of simple colonialism or enslavement, since Caliban and his mother were also arrivals on the island, not natives of it).
Ariel was continually airborne as befits her name; this required Amara Okereke to be attached to a trapeze-like mechanism on which she swooped into view and disappeared again at the highest level of the stage. This was effective to begin with, but ran the risk of seeming too mechanical a device when used throughout the performance. Ariel's wary respect for Prospero, and his wary affection for the spirit, were poignantly expressed on several occasions when she reached down and he reached up so that their hands almost touched.
The relations between Prospero, Ariel and Caliban are mysterious, and there is plenty of scope for interpreting them in different ways. Here, the matter of Ariel's freedom was given a most unusual twist: as Prospero finally freed the spirit she was released from her trapeze and put her feet on the ground - where she did not know how to walk: freedom, it seemed, would be quite a challenge. As far as Caliban is concerned, the most derogatory references to him by Prospero were cut, and the character always had a certain quiet dignity.
There was more: the great Epilogue speech is usually given directly to the audience as Proposer begs for his own freedom to depart and claims that it is dependent on the audience's applause - the character almost disappearing as the actor breaks the fourth wall. Here, Branagh almost exclusively addressed Ariel and Caliban, asking for their indulgence, and he left them alone on the stage, regarding each other in silence, wondering what to make of their "brave new world" - an extraordinary conclusion to a thought-provoking production.
I was not convinced by every aspect of Eyre's and Branagh's work on this play, but it is a salutary reminder that The Tempest is no straightforward drama. It's the sixth time I have posted a review of the play, and on each occasion there are new insights to ponder.
