Weekend in Michigan, Royal Shakespeare Company Style

This past weekend in Michigan was nothing if not hectic. I am, this week, droopy-eyed and yawning, even with the help of some Wild Sweet Orange tea and some hazelnut coffee. My energy is shot, and I don’t know what it’ll take to recover from the past month and a half. Someone just hook up Diet Coke into my veins. Or let me get sick so that I am forced to sleep—however, if a violent cold could hold off until after Thanksgiving, I’d be very appreciative.

This trip, like my New York trip, has been in the works for about a year. When I heard that the Royal Shakespeare Company would be returning to Ann Arbor to perform in its third residency (past residencies occurred in 2001 [present!] and 2003 [didn’t see any of it]), I immediately made it a point to hopefully return (I was still in Michigan then) to see the shows. When the performance dates were released, I chose to see the plays after my marathon, which was already set for November 5 (though I had no idea if I was in or out given I hadn’t even entered the lottery then). When I was offered a new position in January, my parents purchased the RSC tickets for me and I hoped to be chosen for New York—New York would come first, the RSC would come second as the tickets were for the very last performances of all three plays. It all worked out in the end, but it’s made for some very heavy traveling and little sleep.

There is not a lot to be said about the history of the RSC in Ann Arbor that hasn’t been said already or isn’t readily available on the internets. Former Michigan President Lee Bollinger helped bring the RSC to campus back in 2001 (and subsequently hogged in on the 2003 residency by bringing the RSC to Columbia University) and the masses have been delighted by Shakespeare (and once by Salman Rushdie) works ever since. Top quality theater that it is, nothing matches up to the excitement that the RSC engenders when they drop by for a visit (unless we’re talking about Michigan’s undefeated records and trip to Columbus this Saturday). This was the last of the originally negotiated three residencies, although both the English and US heads insist that the RSC is returning to Ann Arbor. Let’s hope, shall we?

The 2001 residency was phenomenal; the 2006 residency was exceptional. It was a double delight to learn that Patrick Stewart would be joining the RSC for their venture into Ann Arbor, playing Marc Antony in Antony and Cleopatra and Prospero in The Tempest. Stewart’s turns as Prospero are something of a legend; it was one of my greatest desires to see him play the role, but who knew that I’d get to do just that in my old college town one day? It was an incredible privilege to be sitting in the Power Center Sunday afternoon as the play began. When Prospero first appears, with Miranda entreating him to stop the tempest from which the play takes its title, you know you’re going to see magic unfold on the stage.

Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra were amazing, to be sure; even though Julius Caesar lacked Patrick Stewart, the thespians playing Brutus and Cassius did more than a star turn. Antony and Cleopatra benefited from the strong chemistry between its leads—I was convinced that those two loved and lusted after each other more than life itself. The loving playfulness built into each scene between them, even as Antony lay dying from his self-inflicted wound, was delicately played and let us into an intimate world where two lovers know nothing but each other despite their own and others manipulations. The goofiness (not the manipulation, though) therein reminded me strongly of the type of relationship that IP and I have, I must admit—however, neither of us form part of a triumvirate or are a monarch (don’t even go there, IP!).

But The Tempest. Oh my dear Lord, The Tempest! The set design, costuming, acting, stage direction, everything was top-notch. As the play opens, we see a ship in distress, a ship that conveniently carries all of Prospero’s enemies. Despite the idea of a tempest, of sinking in an endless ocean, the RSC utilized one small part of the stage to present the drama of the tempest and what it wrought on the ship; using lighting, a background that was not a background (it can be said that the actors were the background as they stood behind an illuminated piece of a screen), and sound effects, the actors convincingly conveyed the terror of the ocean in an enclosed space. As the scene closed and the lights dimmed in order to shift locale and actors, the house erupted into applause—well done, RSC, well done!

The rest of the play was pure magic. The actress portraying Miranda excels in the role, communicating wonder, love of her father, and her limited life on the island with ease. The actor playing Ariel, to be blunt, kicked ass—less of a sprite and more of a spirit whose darkness doesn’t approach Caliban’s, but is nonetheless present thanks to enslavement and the lingering and unfulfilled promise of freedom. Ariel’s second appearance in the performance, when Prospero calls him forth, produced gasps in the audience—Ariel, thanks to stage tricks, appeared out of nowhere, from behind a door that Prospero had opened. Slowly and almost menacingly he emerged to do Prospero’s bidding. The goddesses, who aid Ariel and Prospero throughout, melted into their characters—there were no Mother Earth vibes from the three actresses even as they performed a well-choreographed wedding ceremony for Miranda and Ferdinand.

And of course, Patrick Stewart. As a father, his Prospero was doting but rough, hardened by exile and the magic he wields. As a deposed ruler, his Prospero never seemed to truly want his dukedom back, even as he claimed it his own—his most painful moment seemed to come when he swore off his magic for his rightful holdings. As a revenger, his Prospero delighted in misfortunes but was pushed back from the brink by his Ariel, Miranda, and Ferdinand, recognizing that a perpetuation of hate was distasteful and inhuman—it was better to unite his daughter and the son of a man who helped depose him rather than passing that bitterness onto the next generation. His last line, spoken as a question rather than statement, left the viewer with no doubt that, even as he leaves, Prospero will never truly be free of the island—it will always enchant his mind and beckon him back even though he yielded all to the island and its inhabitants. The epilogue is a message to the audience, a plea to be set free rather to confine Prospero—and Shakespeare, too—to the island in the audience’s imaginations. Stewart as a Shakespearean actor is forever tied to Prospero, and Prospero, as Shakespeare’s last great character, is forever tied to the island, and Shakespeare as a playwright will always been associated with the stage—even as the audience wrestles with that instinctive connection, Stewart, Prospero and Shakespeare ask to be free even though they are not sure they want to be free. In sum, this was absolute genius in both performance and composition (thank you, Will).

After the play ended and the house lights went up, Patrick Stewart thanked us for “showing us what the plays could be” and for the city’s hospitality and outpouring of, well, love. It was special to be a part of the residency once more in my small part as a spectator; the 2001 residency was a whirlwind of history and drama that I’ll never forgot, and this 2006 residency, surrounded by an intense time of work and accomplishment in my life, will also forever stand out as the tail end of a fascinating few weeks in which I amazed myself and was amazed by others. Wonder, indeed!