It is moving to see Sigourney Weaver in her debut in London’s West End face the audience with Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’. Aware of the bad criticism towards his Prospero, he muses as if in supplication: “We are made of the same stuff as dreams.” She knows it well, a Hollywood superstar made of stills and mythomania. ‘The Tempest’ is a work about theater. It is the sum of everything Shakespeare learned in a life dedicated to the stage. And, above all, it is the apotheosis of a new type of representation that takes advantage of the newly released scenic resources of Jacobin theater. For viewers of the time, seeing the incredible stagecraft and the characters flying overhead was the closest thing to a current science fiction blockbuster saturated with special effects. The Royal Drury Lane version – a temple that treasures Shakespearean essences – is fiercely faithful to the spirit of the work. Prospero is a metaphysical puppeteer. He is the stage director who dictates what happens on the island of his exile. That’s why Sigourney Weaver remains on stage for the entire performance, because she conducts the orchestra. For this reason, she recites with a supernatural coldness: she orders and executes the work, she is not just another character, she is the ultimate doer. The one who was Ripley in ‘Alien’ becomes Mother, the artificial intelligence that governs the destinies of the passengers of her ship. She recites with a supernatural coldness: she orders and executes the work, she is not just another character, she is the ultimate doer. Objections about Weaver have overshadowed the lucidity of Jamie Lloyd’s editing. His ‘Tempest’ is a ‘space opera’ that reflects on theatrical art and perfectly combines hypnosis and shock. An echo of admiration runs through the seats when Ariel flies over the scene. The effect and infinite talent of Mason Alexander Park, a non-binary artist who seems like a distillation of Bowie and Lady Gaga, helps. The audience may go for Weaver, but they are amazed by everything else. And despite the critics, the audience bids farewell to the superstar with a standing ovation. Which is what Shakespeare wants when at the end he makes Prospero say: “May your indulgence give me freedom.” Understanding applause by indulgence. Some applause that was enthusiastic.
#Marta #Fernández #Sigourney #puppeteer
