Review: The Tempest by The Baron's Men
by Michael Meigs
The energy and the innovative staging of The Tempest by the Baron's Men go a long way toward overcoming the considerable disadvantages of their "green world" theatre.
"Castleton" lies in a narrow meadow along the lake, just west of the 360 bridge, and owner Richard Garriott has furnished it with quaint cabins, fancifully decorated. It reminded me very much of the "cabin camping" practiced in Scandinavia, where a family leases a tiny dwelling instead of pitching a tent.
The major and inescapable disadvantage to the locale is the boat traffic along the lake. Trees and reeds hide the playing space from inquisitive view, but the thump and roar of overpowered boat engines vies with very loud, very crappy music. And sound travels a long, long way along the surface of the water. So from your 7:30 start time until about Act III, it's easier to suspend belief than to suspend indignation.
Garriott's fantasies include a pretty impressive landbound pirate ship on the meadow's south side and a fortress/stockade slightly elevated to the north. Director Athena Peters offers seating on some wooden benches to the west, but also provides an array of mats in the center. Some of us took the mats, while others came with their own folding lawn chairs and placed them in front of the benches.
This is theatre in the round, but not in the usual sense. Instead of the spectators settling on all sides of the acting space, the Baron's Men move all around and through the spectator space. One never knows where the next scene will begin -- and consequently, for those of us on the mats, whether we will have to twist around, crane our necks to see past another groundling, or find ourselves pleasantly surprised by a player popping up close by from some unwatched quarter.
As Prospero, the magician and rightful Duke of Milan, Garrison Martt is a lanky, thoughtful fellow, somewhat closer to Thomas Jefferson than to Gandalf. He's even-tempered even under provocation, and one has the sense that he knows exactly how this is all going to turn out. Liegh Hegedus as Miranda his daughter is charming and wide-eyed.
Cherie Weed's Ariel is compounded perhaps more of earth than of air and fire, giving a sense of efficiency and practicality. She doesn't complain or quarrel too much at Prospero's instructions, but sets off straightaway to do her plaguing. She does so to some wonderful music on pipes, provided by Alejandro Rodriguez.
And what a Caliban! Sean Dornan-Fish is athletic and expressive, a full Shakespearian in diction, presence and mime. There's a mischief in his performance and an occasional clownish complicity to the audience. While we grant that he's a bad, bad guy, we just can't wait to see what he's up to next.
In the Stephano-Trinculo-Caliban trio, although deluded about his new masters, he's the one with greatest sense. As Stephano the drunken butler Michael O'Keefe is all rush and expostulation, balanced nicely by Jess Downs as a fidgety, jumpy Trinculo.
Special recognition goes to Brian Martin as Alonso, King of Naples, for his ease with the Shakespearian line and his royal self-assurance. His counselor Gonzalo (Sam Z. Damon) is also vividly drawn as another of Shakespeare's foolish wise men.
The light wanes, the river quiets, and the lighting shifts. Torches around the playing space and discreet amber lighting from high above convert the meadow into Prospero's domain. He and his sprites work out the complexities of betrothal, liberation, punishment, resumption, and renunciation of his magic. The masque in Act V with Juno, Ceres, and Iris is transcendent -- otherworldly music accompanies as the costumed characters, both the gods and the courtly participants, bow or curtsey and bring individual spectators into the dance.
Click for program of The Tempest
The Tempest
by William Shakespeare
The Baron's Men
7400 Coldwater Canyon
adjacent to the Curtain Theatre on the Richard Garriott Estate
Austin, TX, 78730
