What a show! I am utterly enthralled. The atmosphere is magical. Walking in through the Rose Garden, surrounded by beauty really sets the stage for this utterly captivating performance. As we set up our picnic blanket and snacks and settle in, I am not sure what we are in for. The giant ship erected in the middle of the pond and cross staging over the water doesn’t prepare us for the show we are about to watch.

There are surprises, and twists and turns around every corner, each one better and more exciting than the last. It opens with the crew of courtiers embodying the physicality of being on the ship, slaves to every motion of the waves with the ever-present Prospero circling forebodingly. The music sets an intense backdrop for the action on stage, a metaphor in itself of recognisable songs with original lyrics, a contrast of old language and new sound.

When the spell is cast to cause the tempest, everyone in the audience gasps as a wall of water fountains erupts from the pond, letting us, the audience, feel the effects of the spell as well as experience the action. The natural sunlight creates a rainbow that contrasts the stage lights later when the spell is released (another metaphor for the battle between the natural and modern worlds that is at play).

One of the highlights of this Manawatū Summer Shakespeare production is all the gender-swapped characters. Queen Alonsa’s grief for her perceived loss of her son is palpable and gives real heart to the play, extending the care for her family and showing how stuck it can make a person (emphasised by her lack of consequential action during the play). As played by Erin McLean, she holds her power well, stuck, but reaching forward with her gloved hand throughout, until finally, in Act Two, she is able to grasp the hand of Prospera (originally Prospero – more of her later) so they can unite in their shared care for their children.

Bastia (originally Sebastian), played by Sarah Angland, is strong and grounded, showing the power of influence marred by moral character. She has such a rapport with Antonio (Jack Edens), the spark between them lighting a fire of ambition that is ultimately quelled by Prospera in the lasting image of her making their swords heavy enough to ground them once again. Their physicality as they are pulled forward and singled out from the other courtiers in the final act only emphasises how they are both caught up in each other’s currents, swaying them towards their dire ambition to murder Queen Alonsa.

Lise Bakker’s Ariel has a fun, light energy that keeps the tempo of the play alive and bouncing. She is mischievous and playful, frequently embellishing her monologues with gestures so graceful they are almost like a dance. She becomes a bridge between the audience and action on stage, prompting and poking fun with her comments to Trinculo (Sam Wyss), Stephano (Matt Schaw) and Caliban (Cam Dickons) like a puppet master, often from amongst the audience. Her mastery of the Oboe creates another lively element, allowing the music of the play to have a voice that impacts the action.

Ariel’s lullaby to send the courtiers to sleep, sung like a karanga, is stunningly impactful and adds a sense of a New Zealand setting to the performance. This is reinforced when Trinculo breaks the fourth wall to announce the interval by directing everyone to the wharepaku and pointing out the koha buckets held by other dedicated members of the crew. The waiata at the end (taught by Reremoana Hokianga) is a standout, allowing the actors and audience alike to really feel the mana of such a substantial and intricate performance.

I love the Greek chorus element of the goddesses, graceful and ever present throughout the play, and Ariel’s character extends that, building the influence they have on the action until they are finally able to speak and be heard in the final scenes, in unison at first and then finally in their own voices. The spirits are ever-changing and take on many forms, most notably the dog-spirits that Caliban battles in the second act (their physicality and the way they embody and differentiate between their different characters is a sight that plays on the mind).

Miranda and Ferdinand, as played by Honey Sinclair and Donovan Smith, show the unfettered joy and playfulness of young love, unrestrained by the harsh world views around them. They are refreshing, a bridge between the two rivals, Prospera and Alonsa, who are swept along and put in opposition by the ambition that clouds their judgements and allows them to rationalise such torment of each other. Their proposal scene is timed to have the sunset as a backdrop, allowing the words they are speaking to have added weight in the world around them.

The comedic trio of Trinculo, Stephano and Caliban gives such a contrast to the seriousness of the rest of the play. Each character is dynamic in their own right. Their initial meeting is such a hoot, using a blanket to emphasise their physical comedy. The chemistry and rapport between actors is so clear. It lends a playful energy to the action that makes the other more serious scenes stand out even more. Every time they come on, I see the audience’s shoulders relax and then bounce with the buoyancy of a good belly laugh.

The audience interaction – a feature of Summer Shakespeare – is natural and unforced, not putting anyone on the spot, but giving their snacks and drinks an unlikely spotlight on stage. Caliban grabbing the sea salt chips of a nearby couple and running on stage like Dobby who’s been given a sock is an image that will live rent free in my head for a long time. And their rendition of ‘Hot to Go’, accompanied by Ariel and her oboe, is iconic to say the least. Stephano’s scurvy tune as he waltzes along the curved path around the pond is also a highlight that sets the scene for the trio’s drunken antics.

Caliban is a complex character who, in the original script, is an allegory for white colonisation, a trope that everyone can agree is thoroughly unacceptable in today’s world. The active choice to steer his character away from racial stereotype and make him more of a creature, a spirit in touch with the animalistic, more earthy and natural side of nature (emphasised by the animalistic physicality), is one that makes the out-of-touch views of the courtiers even more evident. It emphasises the battle between the natural and modern world in other aspects of the play and highlights this struggle in other characters.

I feel for Caliban being caught up in the chaotic energy; a drifter who keeps being swept along, whether it is by Prospera and Ariel or by Trinculo and Stephano. A standout moment is when he is given Prospera’s staff, now lit up against the backdrop of stars in the final scenes, and is able to claim the power he so desperately needs and deserves, spinning it around his shoulders like a circus performer as Trinculo and Stephano whoop and prance off into the night.

Prospera, played by Rhian Firmin, is incredibly powerful; a real force to be reckoned with. I have to just take a moment to realise how the gender-swap of this character flips the entire meaning of this play on its head. Swapping Prospero for Prospera causes the tired tropes of a father monopolising the power of being alone on an island – enslaving the inhabitants, intimidating the love interest of his daughter and ultimately taking the power back because of jealous ambition – to be thrown to the wind to disintegrate.

Prospera gives the play a real sense of care at its heart, driven with the power that many women in Shakespeare’s original texts are lacking. She complements Queen Alonsa nicely, to really emphasise the maternal aspects at play. Both characters want the best for their children but are clouded and swayed in their actions by external forces. Prospera’s interactions with Miranda take on new meanings; rather than ‘father knows best and needs to control his daughter’, there is a cautious sense of guidance and a desire for her daughter to learn from her mistakes. She is powerful beyond belief: an ever-present force throughout the play – and the creative process, as Rhian Firmin is also a director. She stepped into the role late in the process (with creative producer Rachel Lenart stepping up as co-director) to keep the show alive. She not only does that, she makes it thrive, channelling some of the energy of the originally cast actor who paved the way but couldn’t physically perform the role due to a broken ankle. Life imitates art sometimes.

The pond almost becomes its own person as each of the ways the characters interact with it reveals more about their drives and tendencies, from the initial fountain spell that brings the audience in, Queen Alonsa beating her fist in a splash of grief, Trinculo playfully splashing the audience with it, Callaban being pushed in and submerged, to the spirits submerging themselves and slowly closing in on the action, or the courtiers being swayed and caught up in so many different currents.

Even the dance sections, choreographed by Ihaia Kunaiti, involve such fluid motion that they evoke a sense of the body being liquid. The depth of this show is unimaginable. I want to drink it in.

This play is expertly crafted to subvert expectations, giving power to the characters who were so deprived of it in the original script. A chance for them to claim the hearts of their characters and fight in the battle against the dark parts of human nature.

My original view of Shakespeare was that they were tired scripts, perpetuating outdated ideas that were no longer relevant in society, beautifully crafted and written, but showing the way the world was in a time where the power hierarchies were already decided and set in stone. Writing back against this was one of the drives for my own thesis. This show flips my view on its head, helping me see them as an opportunity, a chance to not only show how far the world has come, but to own that power and use it to create a world where people can own their choices, and the consequences that come with them.

Empowering, captivating, magical. What a show. Don’t miss it.

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What a storming way to celebrate the passing summer! From its dramatic spray-soaked opening scene to its closing waiata, this alfresco production of The Tempest, amidst the blooms of Palmerston North’s iconic rose gardens, impresses under open skies for its highly focused magical and majestic scale.

Majestic is one word to describe Rhian Firman’s performance in the pivotal gender-swap role of Prospera. Having conceptualised the show as its director over the past 12 months, four weeks out from opening, Firman faced an unscripted real life backstage drama.

Originally cast as Prospera in this reworked version of Shakespeare’s classic, award-winning actor Hannah Pratt broke her ankle. Firman was left with little choice but to step into the role herself, with creative producer Rachel Lenart taking over as director. The opening night response to this challenge by the 21-strong cast and supporting production team was magnificent.

From the first scene, Firman is a striking presence. Prospera, as grim-faced goddess, stalks the rim of the garden’s decorative pool as fountain jets spray water into the air around a beleaguered ship. Firman’s determined expression and steely controlled pace leave little doubt about who has unleashed this tempest.

Throughout her show-defining performance though, Firman also shows the softer, maternal and more vulnerable sides of her character. Between the shipwreck and her final relinquishment of power, the actor confirms Prospera as magus and mother, tyrant and team leader, arch manipulator and loving matchmaker, avenging angel and forgiving saint.

By the time Prospera humbly craves indulgence from the audience during the play’s epilogue, there’s no question that the character has been on a journey – a ride she has generously shared.

Firman’s formidable portrayal is boosted by dramatically choreographed and costumed supernatural scenes and dynamic fight sequences. Great use is made of thematic music stagings, bursts of spray, atmospheric and special effects lighting, with plenty of activity in the pool. For many in the cast, involvement in this production has translated quite literally into an ‘immersion’ experience.

Bubbling beneath the intense and mercurial machinations of the lead character and her political adversaries, there was also space to send in the clowns. The slapstick capers of Sam Wyss as Trinculo and Matt Schaw as Stephano with Cam Dickons as a growly Caliban, are delightfully drunken and droll. Their admirably crafted and well-timed fooling sympathetically juggles gleeful ineptitude and downright silliness which descends eventually, into outright pathos.

Younger and supporting actors also enjoyed time in the spotlight. Lise Bakker as an oboe-playing Arial gains in confidence and presence as the evening unfolds. Miranda and Ferdinand – the Shakespearean embodiment of Marriage at First Sight – played by youngsters Honey Sinclair and Donovan Smith show good awareness of the outdoor environment – projecting their characters and their lines to good effect. Jack Eden as Prospera’s usurping brother Antonio and Erin McLean as Queen Alonsa help anchor a capable and cohesive ensemble, while wispy spirits constantly drift in and around the performance periphery.

A perfect storm then? Well, for overall performance quality and production values it sails pretty close. There are still things such as vocal projection to work on, but opening night under idyllic conditions goes without obvious hitch.

This is the third time since 2003 The Tempest has been staged as part of the annual Manawatū Summer Shakespeare programme. In this economic cost- cutting and culture clobbering clime, its survival is certainly not guaranteed. Hopefully this vehicle for nurturing, encouraging and maturing local talent and imagination will continue, but however things play out, this production has certainly upped the ante for any successors to aspire to.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer