We are such stuff as dreams are made on

Yesterday we went to see a play at the Royal Haymarket of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. The big name of the production was Ralph Fiennes. Sitting with many of my University mates, I could tell that they were not thrilled by the production. And for all purposes, there were many parts that I, too, was displeased with. The first act left me feeling disappointed. However, in my opinion, Ralph Fiennes, as Prospero, saved the show in the second half.

If you have not read or seen this play, I will inform you that, usually, we expect Prospero to be a figure of power. He is a gifted magician, former Duke of Milan, and master of island spirits. Fiennes portrayed a much different man. He was somehow older, more worn and tired than we may have expected. He did not ooze power, per se. But if you think about it, this is a man who let his brother run his Kingdom because all he wanted to do was read books. He has been living on an island for years, suffering under his lost good fortune, not to mention that of his only daughter’s! The play opens with a storm – by his orchestration – that will finally bring to a close all of the restoration and reconcilliation that he has dreamt of. And when the play closes, he does not kill his evil brother, but forgives him. What kind of man is this? A man who has waited half of his life on an island for this one moment which has finally come. And with it, we see an era drawing to a close – everything he has waited and fought for, done in one bitter-sweet swoop. He is giving his daughter away, burying his magic books, and leaving his enchanted island.

Digging deeper into a little history, this is one of Shakespeare’s last plays – his farewell to the theater, to his craft, to his life’s work. He, like Prospero, is finishing, saying goodbye to everything his life had been.

“Be cheerful sir.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,

As I foretold you, were all spirits, and

Are melted into air, into thin air;

And like the baseless fabric of this vision,

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;

And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

As dreams are made on”       -Prospero

I was almost crying. While my class mates were scoffing, I was utterly gripped by this farewell to books and magic and lifelong journeying.

I am not saying that this play was perfect, but I am saying that Fiennes gripped at my heart when I least expected it – he brought a gem forth from the crude rock of this production, he spoke to my innermost being. In the end, this is what I will remember ten years from now.