Been in a Tempest mood lately, was looking for an example of Caliban’s dream speech, and found this little gem …

Fans of Fawlty Towers might recognize Trinculo as Andrew Sachs, the man who played our own lovable Manuel.  Poor guy, gets a beating every role he takes. (By the way, I was researching how that opening line is delivered, the “Be not afeared” part.  I like the way they did it here, how Caliban smiles when he tells it.)

Is anybody following the Dig For Shakespeare project? I mean, I want to be excited, and maybe I’m just too early, but so far I see references but not much of anything else.  People are more excited about the NotCardenio.For those who haven’t heard about the project, it’s an archaeological dig around New Place, Shakespeare’s final home.  They’re even selling tickets, which I think is a wonderful idea and I hope I’ve got some Stratford geeks who plan on going to have a look.But … that’s it?  The dig supposedly begins March 26 – two days from now – and the web site still just says “Full Site Coming Soon.”  Worse, they type worse that I do.  One sentence reads “mark a key milestone in the understanding of how the Stratford-upon-Avon” (whut?) while right below that on the next line, archaeological is spelled wrong.I hope they really do start on a Friday, because if it ends up as primarily a weekend thing I’m typically not behind the computer enough to stay on top of any news.

Dropping off my kids at school today I was explaining to them about the standarized testing that the school is doing (for older grades) and said, “Don’t expect to see any Shakespeare on a test like that. You kids might understand some of it but nobody else would.” “I know,” says the 7yr old, “Like if they asked what play is Romeo from, I’d know that the answer is Romeo and Juliet.” “That’s an easy one,” I say, “Since he’s got his name right there in the name of the play.  But what if they asked about Falstaff?” “Who’s he?” “Oh, just another character in one of the plays.” “Yes, but who *is* he?” That got me stumped, as I’m now about about 3 seconds from where they need to be.  “He’s a funny fat guy,” I tell them, and say a silent prayer that the karma gods don’t give Harold Bloom a heart attack. This seems an acceptable summary to small children, however, and they go off to school laughing at the idea of  a Shakespearean funny fat guy.

At least, when Shakespeare writes it it is.The idea for this post didn’t really strike me until I started talking about The Tempest, but I can see supporting evidence in Playing Shakespeare.  Director Barton has just gone through the “Montjoy the herald” speech from Henry V, which is really a giant list of soldiers’ names, and he makes the comment, “It’s almost as if  Shakespeare intended each name to stand for five thousand men.”This weekend I was speaking with a director about staging The Tempest, and the power of an opening scene.  In particular, whether you can move the shipwreck.  As I read it, the idea was reinforced to me that there’s really not much there other than the words.  The wreck itself is surely not portrayed on stage.  In fact, if I had to reduce the entire wreck down to one line?

We’ve split, we’ve split! Farewell my wife and children!

Shakespeare doesn’t show us a shipwreck, but can’t you hear a shipwreck in that line?  I sure can.Or maybe you prefer Macbeth?

For brave Macbeth–well he deserves that name–
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish’d steel,
Which smoked with bloody execution,
Like valour’s minion carved out his passage
Till he faced the slave;
Which ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseam’d him from the nave to the chaps,
And fix’d his head upon our battlements.

It’s not one line, no, but it sure paints a picture! We haven’t even met Macbeth at this point, but haven’t your expectations been set?My point is to just offer a little nod of acknowledgement and appreciation to the “Shakespeare as literature” way of thinking.  There are times, absolutely, when to read the words on a page you’re left scratching your head, and you need an actor to bring them to life.  But then there are those picture painting times, no matter how small, when a simple sequence of carefully chosen words can make the image explode upon your brain whenever you like.

Over the weekend a director asked for my opinion on his staging of an upcoming Tempest.  Cool!  If he’s listening he can jump in, but I’m not going to identify him without his permission because it’s for a competition and I’d hate to leak any surprises :). I’m no director, as I’m sure we all know. I’m no actor at all.  I just don’t have the visual imagination for it.  I have to put myself more in the “Shakespeare as literature” group when it comes to that stuff.  Doesn’t mean that I don’t have opinions on what makes a good story, though! This director and I spoke mostly about how to open the play, and whether you can get away with moving the shipwreck scene (later Ariel will describe the scene anyway, so is that enough?) Could you act out Prospero’s story of how they came to arrive on the island, show Prospero as Duke, sitting in a library, surrounded by his politician brother (and his cronies) becoming angry that he’s not paying attention to him, and so on? Maybe a little dumb show right at the start? There might well be good theatrical reasons *not* to do some of these things.  Personally I prefer a big opening, something attention grabbing. So, here’s the game.  Whether you’re a theatre pro or not, director or not, pick a scene and tell us how you’d stage it.  We don’t need to get into every last nuance of how you want the actors to *play* the scene (though you can give it a shot). I’m more interested in the off the wall stuff, like the dude who SETS THE TEMPEST IN NAZI GERMANY.  It can be something you’ve done, if you’re a director, but it’s not as fun if it’s something you saw somebody else do.  This is your chance to show *your* ideas, especially if, like me, you’ll never get a chance to direct in real life.