The Tempest
Commissioned to celebrate the 250th anniversary of London’s Royal Opera House, Nureyev’s The Tempest brought Shakespeare’s tale to life with a vivid, bold, theatricality that harked back to another age.The Tempest was Nureyev’s second ballet based on Shakespeare (the first being Romeo and Juliet for the London Festival Ballet in 1977). Although it is no longer in repertoire today, his choreography for the one-act ballet was admired for its dynamic musicality, Balanchine-like speed, and slick, expressive phrasing. Nureyev considered it to be his finest original choreography. Once again, Nureyev turned to Nicholas Georgiadis for sets and costumes.
The ballet was created for a cast including Anthony Dowell as Prospero, Wayne Eagling as Caliban and Lesley Collier as Miranda. Nureyev danced Prospero himself seven times between 1982 and the end of 1983. The unrelenting pace of his choreography, crackling with an electric, almost maniacal energy, was well suited to his bravura technique and captivating, regal stage presence. However, the time-consuming solos he choreographed for Prospero were cluttered with gestures that failed to drive the narrative forward, a lack of restraint that undermined the production.
The Tempest begins with a brief prologue, setting the scene for the audience. Invocations of Prospero’s life at court in Milan offer a glimpse into the splendour of his former existence. Once the origins of his plight are established, the elegant trappings of the castle-like set promptly fold in on itself, emphasizing its ultimate hollow falseness. The gilt façade crumbles into a primordial darkness: Prospero has beenbetrayed, exiled from his home and banished to the island.
Inspired by a Fuseli drawing depicting characters from The Tempest, Nureyev emphasized Prospero’s inner turmoil by using Ariel and Caliban to symbolize the magician’s good and evil impulses. Both the angelic, darting sprite and the devilish, lumbering creature make their entrance from beneath the depths of Prospero’s cloak, demonstrating their inextricability from Prospero’s psyche. Nureyev understood the titular tempest to be the raging torrent of emotions within Prospero himself, and not simply the wildly tossing waves that the magician conjures up to do his bidding. Indeed, his biographer Julie Kavanagh wrote that among his chief intention for the character was ‘to give this lonely, isolated figure the Romantic centrality of a Byron hero’.
Kavanagh observed that although the ballet is ‘dramatically far from clear, it is full of imaginative touches, such as Ariel appearing to land on Prospero’s finger, and also strong on theatrical effects (the instantaneous scene changes from court to island, and island to storm-racked boat)’. The image of Ariel, flying high above the stage on wires, provided a delightful spectacle of old-school theatrical magic, asdid the sight of Prospero suddenly rising up to a towering height (via a pair of stilts hidden under his cloak).
It was impossible to view Nureyev’s performances as Prospero without recognizing certain autobiographical elements. The story of the exiled magician bore undeniable parallels to his own life in several ways. This knowledge added a unique pathos to the innovative, dynamic production.