Newcity Stage

Theater, Dance, Comedy and Performance in Chicago

Review: The Tempest/Steppenwolf Theatre

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by Nina Metz
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Frank Galati and Jon Michael Hill/Photo: Michael Brosilow

Frank Galati and Jon Michael Hill/Photo: Michael Brosilow

Don’t let the bare stage fool you.  Stripped down to the concrete blocks of the foundation, Tina Landau’s playing space for “The Tempest” (at the Steppenwolf) is more like a blank canvas painted with undulating video, eye-popping costumes and a sonic barrage of thunderclaps.

The visuals aren’t arresting so much as extravagant, and there is fun in that—to a degree.  Too often the choices feel random and I found myself asking: why?

The disparate narratives of Shakespeare’s play—the marooned, scheming noblemen; the budding romance; a slave who plots his revenge; the existential pangs of an old man—exist in separate worlds.  As for an overall theme?  You got me.  I’m still drowning in imagery that refuses to sort itself out.  Landau’s vision is flashy, but it doesn’t reveal the essence within.  It is the theatrical equivalent of a rave, where sensory-overload becomes the end rather than the means.  I suspect many will disagree with this sentiment.

Though busier as a director than an actor these days, when Frank Galati takes the stage it makes an impact.  His Prospero lords over this remote isle like a hippie with a god complex.  “Be collected,” he tells his overexcited daughter, and to his servant: “How now, moody?” and it’s like the Dude has arrived, and all that’s missing is the White Russian.

It’s a performance that stands apart—in good ways and bad, for it has almost nothing to do with the rest of the show.  Consider the dilemma of the slave Caliban (an excellent K. Todd Freeman), a would-be rapist who rises from a grate in the floor as if emerging from a ship’s hold, shackled like a dog—risible or merely intellectually honest?  Perhaps both.  Yasen Peyankov’s drunken butler Stephano is comic relief apropos of nothing, but I liked it all the same—he’s a South Jersey Italiano with an absurd toupee, naturally.

But again, how does it all fit together?  This is a production overstuffed with spirits that perform aerial tricks on ropes (why?),  a field of larger-than-life poppies that descend from the sky (why?) and a ridiculous array of pink and purple-hued suits (why?).  More to the point, why is Steppenwolf doing this play?  I’m afraid this production doesn’t even come close to answering that question.  (Nina Metz)

At Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted, ( 312)335-1650 or steppenwolf.org.  Thu-Sat 8p.  $20-$70.  Through May 31.

  • rinderog

    Ms. Nina
    Why ask why? (Tempest) It’s fantasy girl. God I’m constantly amazed at your nastiness. So today I match it because I’m fed up with you and your critical ilk. I have no horse in this race but dammit I’m tired of your horse [email protected] Maybe you just hope to counter Hedy’s over-hyped take…i don’t know but I’ve listened to you gush on and on about pure drivel or worse, a particular actress and wondered, what am I missing?

  • dylanette

    You’re right, Nina. Why, in fact, did Shakespeare even bother to write this play? If he had something to say, why didn’t he say it plainly, instead of using a lot of strange adjectives and unusual grammatical formations? Why, come to think of it, can’t the entire world be a grid of straight lines with periodic blips to indicate people? Is there someone we can talk to about getting that done?

    Folks, don’t listen—this rendition of The Tempest is deep, strong and satisfying, with moments of high fantasy that propel it to another level. The story and, more vitally, the themes of the story shine through and are themselves illuminated by the stagecraft. Hats off to Steppenwolf! May this be the first of many tangos with the Bard.

  • brianhey

    I was also at the opening performance and came away with a much more positive reaction than Nina. I offer this comment not as the rebuke that the other commenters have conveyed, but rather in the spirit of dialogue. Though I see far more theater than the average person, I’ve managed to avoid Shakespeare fairly successfully over the years, with a personal preference for new work and an aversion, probably unreasonable, to the risk of sitting through long boring performances that make the viewer work very hard to understand the language. The truth is, the handful of professional productions of Shakespeare I’ve seen are somewhere in the middle, with a mix of both pleasant and unpleasant experiences. As far as I can remember, I’ve never seen “The Tempest,” and perhaps never read it; in any case, I was able to watch it at Steppenwolf as a work new to me. I loved it; it was undoubtedly the best production of the Bard I’ve seen in my albeit limited experience. The performances were lively and flawless; the staging was a visual and aural delight. It was a circus of the mind, which seems consistent with the playwright’s intention. Jon Michael Hill really stood out for me (in addition to the expectedly superb Galati and Freeman) in the role of Ariel; he epitomized the youthful visceral energy that drives this production. At the end of the show, that’s what made it really work for me: I wasn’t in the classroom, studying Shakespeare, I was on the island, living it.

    None of this invalidates Nina’s perspective, in my opinion. We expect our critics of Shakespeare to have a base of experience with other productions to draw from; something Nina has and I do not. It’s natural to look beyond the work to the director, in that case, and to look for an interpretation with a specific point-of-view, or message; that’s a burden my fresh eyes did not feel. It’s not that different than the criticisms some leveled at Bob Falls’ “Desire Under the Elms”; the director of a canonical text becomes, for the viewer and especially the critic, a temporary co-author of the work. It is her or his interpretation that is at question, since the text is what it is. Unlike new work, where the playwright’s work is as much at stake as the production; here it’s all in the production. For me, it really really worked; for Nina, not so much. Fair enough.

    Brian Hieggelke
    Newcity editor

  • Monica Westin

    I wanted to comment on this exchange by wondering if it’s possible not only to be taken in and impressed by this production, with its striking visuals, flawless technical theater, and perfect rhythm; but also to remain simultaneously ambivalent about how it stands up to scrutiny, as Nina has done far more thoughtfully than those who have attacked her criticism.

    I loved the show myself, which I found beautiful, exciting, and beautifully paced. However, I also couldn’t keep from wondering why, for example, Ariel is accessorized by a macbook and aviator shades, not to mention the football gear and other seeming red herrings for meaning. This show contains so many visual cultural references and signifiers that it’s hard not to wonder if there’s a system behind all the stimuli– or whether it’s simply done for visual effect.

    I don’t think that asking questions of this production, which Nina has done bravely and fairly, is the same thing as denying its force and power.

    Bravo, Nina!

  • tonysharpe

    Why? That’s a pretty good question to ask about this production and for just about all of the contemporized Shakespearean production’s I’ve seen in Chicago. Why did Ariel have a laptop? Why does the music have to be rap and hip hop? Especially since the audience was populated with middle-aged white folks (myself included). Why was Lois Smith even in the cast? This production stinks. Period.

  • brianhey

    Tony, though I disagree with much of your criticism, I was, too, troubled with Lois Smith, but chalked it up to the oddity of gender-reversed casting. Could any woman have played Gonzalo without standing out? Or was it simply a flat performance that had no connection to gender? Ironically, this production is a banner-carrier for colorblind casting as well, with both Miranda and Antonio (the daughter and brother of old white man Prospero/Galati) cast as African-American. So too, the island “natives”, the slaves of Prospero: Caliban and Ariel. Is there subtext in all of this? The very act of noticing implies that there is at some level, intentional or not. In any case, the casting process is one wherein I’d love to have been a fly on the interior wall of director Tina Landau’s brain.

  • levicivita

    I am afraid I have to agree with the published review. I saw the play tonight, and, although I was thoroughly dazed by the elaborate Cirque du Soleil antics, I found myself underwhelmed by the play itself. The brutally loud sounds, the elaborate video projections, the spontaneous bursts of hip hop and dancing, the endless costumes, they all seemed to cover up the fundamental emptiness of the plot development. Clearly the team has invested a tremendous amount of effort into this show, however not enough attention was paid to the play itself – which is ultimately the reason we all – actors and spectators – come to the theater.

    P.S. I was puzzled and in fact bothered by not one but two separate scenes that crudely simulate two of the male characters engaged in oral sex. I am hard pressed to understand how this scene belongs in a Shakespeare play. If the director wants to promote their own social agenda, I, as a paying customer, would encourage them to seek a more appropriate venue. I am not closed minded or prude – it’s just that I feel like the victim of false advertising – I expected an elaborate, sophisticated, engaging classic piece of theater – not a crude college mock-up thereof.

  • tonysharpe

    I totally forgot about the oral sex scenes. They are without meaning. I’m sure the Bard never intended them. If the director intended to make a statement with them, what was that statement?

    This is just another example of why this production stinks. Why? It is senseless. This is why The Steppenwolf doesn’t do Shakespeare. It’s also why they shouldn’t do Shakespeare.

    As for my comments about Lois Smith, the woman is a fine actress, though I fear Saturday’s performance was not her best. But there is no more justification for casting her as Gonzalo than there is for casting her as Annie in Annie. Hell, Brian Dennehy as Annie for that matter.

    I think Tina Landau didn’t have an agenda in the casting process. I don’t think she had an agenda for the play. I don’t think she thought about this at all. She just let it happen. And what happened was a mess – a stinking mess.

    I did like the stage design though. I’ll give them that.

  • missrip

    I’ll admit that I’ve studied a fair amount of Shakespeare, so take this all with the heap of salt that should accompany all academia.

    There’s been a great deal of discussion as of late putting The Tempest in a colonial context, what with the settling of new islands and the presence of the native spirits. Racial issues were almost certainly relevant in the casting of black spirits under the power of a white sorcerer. Even if we remove the colonial context, how can you argue the racial disparity doesn’t make Prospero’s statement “Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and she said thou wast my daughter” positively loaded with subtext, or at the very least play up the humor?

    I’ll admit the compromising “oral sex” scene was jarring, but not without some basis. The sailors remark that the native beast under the cloak would assuredly net them wealth and fame in the homeland. The lewd positions that cap the scene physically manifest the perversion or abuse of colonial resources by the foreigners. You can call that a stretch if you want, but at the very least realize that for his time, Shakespeare was exceedingly provocative, sometimes even called lewd. To say that such behavior has no place in a Shakespearean play is to fault your own knowledge of Shakespeare.

    I think, Nina, you answer some of your own questions in your comments. Why the extravagant wedding masque? Doesn’t that track with his pattern of lording his powers over everyone? His excess and showmanship are motivated by the source. He summons the fierce tempest to bring the sailors to the island, using such great force and yet not harming a hair. When he sends Ariel about, he commands him to simultaneously take the form of a nymph and to become invisible.

    I don’t know what to make of the decision to blend modern trappings into the play, but I don’t think it’s very productive to merely question the motivation of it and not seriously contemplate it. if they had used strictly Elizabethan props and costumes, couldn’t one just as easy beg the question “why not go minimalist and spare the effort?”