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by William Shakespeare, directed by Antoni Cimolino

Stratford Festival, Festival Theatre, Stratford

May 25–October 24, 2026

Prospero: “Dost thou attend me?”

To kick off his final season as Artistic Director, Antoni Cimolino has chosen The Tempest, Shakespeare’s final play as sole author, often sentimentally viewed as Shakespeare’s “farewell to the stage”. Cimolino directed the Stratford Festival’s last staging of The Tempest in 2018. Back then, I noted that Cimonlino “does not allow the special effects for Prospero’s and Ariel’s magic to dominate the text”. Now, what Cimolino avoided in 2018 is exactly what happens in 2026. Except for its special effects, this Tempest is quite a snooze until Shakespeare’s Act 5, when Cimolino and the actors suddenly pay close attention to the text. Cimolino makes the point of the play clearer in this final act than in any previous production at Stratford. It’s just too bad we have to wait for so long for the play to come together.

Quite unlike the 2018 Tempest, the present production consists of scene after scene where the actors are unable to make sense of the text. Before the action begins, Cimolino does show us Ariel setting about to create the storm that shipwrecks so many of Prospero’s enemies on his magic island. Yet, as usual, the soundscape for the storm scene is so loud that we can hear nothing anyone is saying. Does no one ever wonder why Shakespeare would have written all those words if he did not mean them to be heard?

The following scene between Prospero and Miranda further indicates that we are on the wrong course. Prospero (Geraint Wyn Davies) delivers a long speech filling in the background of his story but repeatedly asks his daughter Miranda (Ashley Dingwell), “Dost thou attend me?” In this production Miranda pays rapt attention throughout so there is no need for Prospero’s question. The question, however, indicates that Miranda is likely nodding off during Prospero’s extended narration. It also indicates that Prospero is rather a pedant in delivering a speech so over-stuffed with facts. Cimolino does not emphasize the humour of the scene nor the bookish side of Prospero’s nature.

Strangely, enough this Wyn Davies’ Prospero is singularly humourless. After Miranda sees the full crew in Act 5 and exclaims, “O brave new world, / That has such people in’t!”, Prospero replies, “’Tis new to thee”. This remark usually gets a big laugh, but here Wyn Davies mutters it in such a way that no one laughs at all. Besides this, Cimolino has Prospero double over in pain several times during the action. I was afraid he was actually going to have Prospero die at the end. But no, that doesn’t happen. It could be Cimolino was taking Prospero’s statement near the end, “Every third thought shall be my grave” literally rather as a sample of Prospero’s monk-like humour.

After Prospero’s long introduction we then meet in sequence Ariel, Caliban and Ferdinand. Marissa Orjalo is a sprightly Ariel. In her birdlike movements and quick speech patterns, Orjalo brings out Ariel’s otherworldly nature as if Ariel were an airier, more obedient version of Puck. Orjalo also has a fine, high voice which makes all of Ariel’s songs a pleasure.

Jonathan Goad plays Caliban, made up by designer Julie Fox to look like a cross between a lizard and a monkey with a long tail. Strangely for an actor so long at Stratford, Goad growls and shouts nearly all of Caliban’s lines so that they are incomprehensible. Goad does slough off this rasping mode for two speeches. One is Caliban’s first long speech “This island’s mine” in Act 1. The other is the famous passage “Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises” in Act 2”. How is it that Caliban can speak clearly when a well-known speech comes up? Do all the rest of his lines not matter that he growls them away?

Ferdinand, as played by Dakota Jamal Wellman, is a welcome human presence after the ethereality of Ariel and the animality of Caliban. The romance between Ferdinand and Miranda would be delightful if either Wellman or Dingwell were able to speak with more expression. Dingwell speaks with a flat, uninflected tone no matter what the situation. Wellman, in contrast, always speaks with over-emphasis no matter what the situation. Ferdinand and Miranda are not the most fascinating characters Shakespeare ever wrote. There is all the more reason, then, to find as much in their lines that makes them distinctive.

The next group of characters Shakespeare introduces are what is called the “Court Party”. These are all the nobles from Milan and Naples who were travelling by sea back to Naples after attending a wedding in Tunis. This group includes Alonso, the King of Naples; Gonzalo (here “Gonzala”), a counsellor and old friend of Prospero; Sebastian, Alonso’s brother; and Antonio, Prospero’s brother.

As Alonso, David Collins shows us a father who has been utterly crushed by what he believes is the death of his son, Ferdinand. Collins makes Alonso’s anger at hearing idle talk fully believable as an intrusion on his grief. As Gonzala, Fiona Reid brings clarity of diction to a cast where it sorely lacking. Reid brings Gonzala’s vision of a utopian world so vividly to life that becomes one of the most memorable spoken moments of the play. Reid also lends her Gonzala an endearing quirkiness missing from Wyn Davies’ Prospero.

As schemers Sebastian and Antonio, Micah Woods and Gordon S. Miller are peculiarly unable to articulate the meaning of their speeches. Their conversation in planning the murders of Alonso and Gonzala communicate so little and is so ploddingly paced it is the single most tedious sequence in the production. It feels like the two will never get around to drawing their swords to do the deed.

After the decline in interest during the first Court Party scene comes the first scene of what is known as the “Kitchen Party”. This group consists of Trinculo, Alonso’s jester, and Stephano, Alonso’s butler. Caliban becomes one of their number in their first scene. In too many productions of The Tempest, the Kitchen Party scenes are overblown to give audiences something lowbrow to laugh at. Here Josue Laboucane as Trinculo takes that tack through speaking loudly and directly addressing the audience. As Stephano, however, Ben Carlson takes the opposite approach in presenting his character as so well spoken that he does not seem drunk at all. In fact, Carlson seems to have to remind himself periodically that Stephano is meant to be completely sloshed in order to make sense of the part.

A major peculiarity of Cimolino’s production is that he adds six more characters to the play than are listed in Shakespeare’s dramatis personae. These are Ariel’s minions who do her bidding. Cimolino used this idea in 2018 but has made it even more obvious this time. These six are on stage in individualized costumes from the start, a fact which confusingly contradicts Caliban’s statement to Prospero, “I am all the subjects that you have”. Prospero does refer to there being other spirits on the island that we have seen when invokes “Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves”. Yet to have these beings so physically present as Cimolino does here prevents Prospero’s island from being the deserted island that it is meant to be. Usually, we feel that Prospero, Miranda, Ariel and Caliban have been alone for the past twelve years and only encounter others because of the shipwreck. Cimolino’s approach does away with this feeling of isolation and with it our empathy for Prospero and Miranda.

In 2018 the set was dominated by a huge tree which contained the entrance to Prospero’s cell. This time the set is dominated by a huge rock that contains the entrance to Prospero’s cave on one side and a staircase leading to a lookout point on the other. The six spirits pointless turn this rock about to signal different locations, but in fact the rock only takes on meaning if Prospero, Miranda and Ferdinand are using it.

What audiences will remember from the production most, unfortunately, are its special effects. All of them — the opening storm, the vanishing banquet and frightening harpy, the Kitchen Party chased by giant dogs, the masque celebrating the union of Ferdinand and Miranda — are visually impressive. And all of them are accompanied by such a loud soundscape that whatever words are sung or spoken are completely drowned out. After the show the single most talked about effect was the three gigantic pulsing jellyfish companions to the three goddesses in Prospero’s masque. They are the most fantastic puppets I’ve ever seen at Stratford. They also make no sense. Are they flying in the air or is everyone on stage underwater? They also completely drew attention away from the goddesses just as the sound covered up whatever they were trying to communicate.

Despite this distraction, Wyn Davies rallied himself enough to draw attention back to Prospero’s words. Wyn Davies delivered Prospero’s speeches from “Our revels now are ended” through the Epilogue with such command and passion that he banished the rather generic Prospero we had seen for four acts. Repeatedly Cimolino has Wyn Davies emphasize the play’s themes of forgiveness and compassion. Cimolino even had sworn enemies embrace, even had Caliban and Miranda embrace, as a sign of the power human beings have of mercy to defeat revenge.

If only the entire show could have been so filled with insight, emotion and attention to text, this could have been one of the great Tempests at Stratford.

Christopher Hoile

Photos: Geraint Wyn Davies as Prospero and Marissa Orjalo as Ariel, © 2026 David Hou; Geraint Wyn Davies as Prospero, Ashley Dingwell as Miranda and Dakota Jamal Wellman as Ferdinand, © 2026 Ann Baggley; Harpy with members of the Court Party, © 2026 David Hou.

For tickets visit: www.stratfordfestival.ca