Technology is a kind of magic, but it provides precious little enchantment in James Macdonald's touring production of The Tempest for the RSC.The playing area resembles an artificial ski-jump slope but starts with a perilous vertical drop and then diminishes into undulating folds or waves. The drop occasionally comes into its own, providing a slide for Ariel or an obstacle for the drunken Stephano. But there are times when it looks more like a handicap for all but the most agile of actors.
Its real purpose is to provide a screen for designer Jeremy Herbert's video projections, which, in case we haven't twigged the importance of water in this sea-changed drama, repeatedly offers us an ocean view.
The constant waves and scudding clouds have a slightly soporific effect, and if Macdonald was seeking to mirror for the audience the dreamy, trance-like air of Prospero's island, it serves well enough. But as so often happens in the theatre when video is over-employed, the film becomes increasingly intrusive and a substitute for real theatrical verve.
That's particularly true in Juno's masque to celebrate the betrothal of Miranda and Ferdinand. The video clips of corn waving in the wind and budding flowers bring Orlando Gough's ethereal, other-worldly music straight back down to earth with a bump.
These external trappings are almost always at the expense of the internal workings of the drama. We see the storm, but we never experience the emotional tempests and transformations of the characters. The visuals, and on occasion the jazzy, a cappella score and choreography take precedence over the actors, who are only allowed to be efficient puppets.
Philip Voss's Prospero is seldom more than a slightly camp, shrewd old fox; Gilz Terera is a curiously clerk-like Ariel, despite the odd detour into gold lamé; Miranda and the shipwrecked lords are plodding stereotypes.
Actually, the plodding characters, particularly James Saxon's blustery, drunken Stephano, fare rather better, not least because they are in less competition with the production's tricksy add-ons. There are some interesting ideas such as a Caliban (Zubin Varla, good) who is clearly handicapped rather than monstrous and who, from his abscessed body and whip-lined back, is clearly being ill-treated. But, like so much in this production, the idea is never developed. Voss's Prospero is neither benign nor malevolent - he just is.
A little less emphasis on artful visuals and a little more on the actors' art might yet transform this evening from the mundane into the magical.
Further performance tonight (box office: 01625 615602), then touring to Barrhead, Telford, St Austell, Ollerton, Portsmouth and around Britain until May.
