©Johan Persson

The RSC’s new production of The Tempest is significant in more ways than one. Prospero is played by one of our most experienced Shakespearean actors Sir Kenneth Branagh; and the production is directed by the prodigious and highly respected Sir Richard Eyre, making his RSC debut at 83 years old. It’s no surprise that if you check the box office there isn’t a seat to be had for the entire run.

©Johan Persson

Probably Shakespeare’s swansong play, and his second shortest (only The Comedy of Errors has fewer lines), Prospero, the rightful Duke of Milan and magician to boot, has escaped from his usurping brother with just his daughter Miranda and his precious books to a remote island where the only inhabitant is the “savage and deformed” slave, Caliban. He also has the services of the spirit Ariel to call upon when he wants to get things done. Scholars have argued over the centuries about the extent to which Prospero is Shakespeare, winding up his creative career and putting the finishing touches to his magic before a brave new world comes in and takes over. Sounds fair to me, and nothing in this production argues against that.

©Johan Persson

But such intellectual debate is of little concern in Eyre’s new production, which is all about the magic. The first couple of minutes make the production’s approach to the play crystal clear. Prospero, having borrowed the sorcerer’s cloak from Disney’s Fantasia, masterminds the action from his music stand as he conducts the magic that causes the famous opening shipwreck scene. It’s an outstanding start, combining the best of Bob Crowley’s set, Fotini Dimou’s costume design, Hugh Vanstone’s lighting and Nicola T Chang’s sound design.

©Johan Persson

One of this production’s strengths is its excellent storytelling – and that opening scene is a prime example. We can see that Prospero’s magic has caused the storm simply by using our eyes, so that when the text in the following scene actually explains that is the case, it’s confirming something we already know. This frees up that scene between Prospero and Miranda to reveal a comedy element that I’m not sure I was aware ever existed there before.

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The sense of magic, as well as of a remote, maybe tropical island, is enhanced by Akintayo Akinbode’s and Stephen Warbeck’s evocative musical compositions, played with plaintive power by four musicians. It’s especially effective in its accompaniment to the appearances of Amara Okereke’s Ariel, an almost ever-present spirit who flies in, Peter Pan-like, and performs all her scenes mid-air. Ms Okereke has a glorious voice which makes Ariel’s songs both more meaningful and more beautiful. Ariel is bound to serve Prospero until he fulfils his promise to set her free; her moment of freedom comes when he finally releases her harness, enabling her to set foot on land.

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Also bound to Prospero, but firmly earthed to ground, Ashley Zhangazha’s Caliban cuts far from the traditional presentation of the role, as a dignified, eloquent, finely voiced chap. The joke that Miranda falls for the first decent-looking young man she ever sees (Ferdinand) doesn’t really work if she’s been around this particular Caliban for any length of time. Maybe it’s just a status thing. When Caliban decides to plot with Stephano and Trinculo to rebel against Prospero, he doesn’t come across as an equal partner in their mischief; more their superior, which only enhances Stephano and Trinculo’s foolishness.

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Ruby Stokes and Fred Woodley Evans are a superb pairing as Miranda and Ferdinand, who brighten up the stage whenever either of them comes on. Ms Stokes delightfully portrays Miranda’s innocence, albeit with the intent of not remaining innocent for much longer if she can help it. Her scenes with Kenneth Branagh are also a joy, revealing her unquenchable thirst for knowledge. As Ferdinand, Mr Evans nails that sense of slightly bumbling nobility, underpinning his inexperience, but willing to do right by all. He also brings an enjoyable naïve comedy to the role.

©Johan Persson

Elsewhere in the cast, Ashley Zhangazha impresses as this surprisingly urbane Caliban, Henry Pettigrew gives us an amusingly snide and sarcastic Sebastian, and Paul Jesson is every inch the honest and upright Gonzalo, a beacon of goodness amongst a bunch of reprobates. Keir Charles and Guy Henry have the difficult task of making those relatively tedious scenes with Stephano and Trinculo watchable, but Mr Henry in particular does a good job of making his character of Stephano believable, with, what felt like to me, subtle elements of Kenneth Williams and Larry Grayson in his portrayal.

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But – let’s face it – the big attraction of this production in the return of Sir Kenneth Branagh to the RSC after three decades. Confession: I’ve only seen him on stage once before, when he was a 21-year-old unknown in Another Country at London’s Queen’s (now Sondheim) Theatre, and I was a 21-year-old postgraduate student researching theatre censorship. I knew at the time I was witnessing a very special performer, and if The Real Chrisparkle had existed at the time, I would have described him as One To Watch.

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What makes him so good in general, and certainly this describes his Prospero in particular, is his ability to take someone else’s words and make them his own. He works his way through Shakespeare’s text making every line sound so natural, so understandable, so fluid. Constantly changing the pace of his narrative, he will rattle through one sentence and then slowly and deliberately pick out individual words in the next sentence to linger over and savour. When Prospero ultimately forgives all the villains who have done him ill in the past, it’s Branagh’s calmness that teaches you this is the way to heal your own heart of all its injuries and sadnesses. Maybe this really was Shakespeare making his final farewell.

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At its best, this is a superb production with a masterful lead performance. Could it be better? Yes. It’s light on emotion, and surprisingly unadventurous in some technical elements. But who cares? It’s Branagh that you remember.

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!