Directed by Des McAnuff
Starring Christopher Plummer
At Cineplex theatres throughout the GTA for three days
Nov. 6, 10, and 14, 2010.

            Not only is he the star of the film, Christopher Plummer is also one of its executive producers. An octogenarian, he is still at the top of his considerable game, though his Prospero really has nothing new in a major way to add to the long roster of interpretations by great actors. Angry and ironic, Plummer’s magus sounds magnificent, especially in the big speeches, lending further substantiation to the fact that he is possibly the most versatile Canadian actor, though far more external than our other great Canadian actor, the late William Hutt, whose final Prospero for Richard Monette at the Stratford Festival actually showed more modulations in pitch, register, tone, and characterization than does Plummer’s. Des McAnuff and television director Shelagh O’Brien ensure that the camera moves in for close-ups when they count, and Plummer’s voice, a great vocal instrument, commands the stage. And by saying this, I am also suggesting the obvious point that this Tempest is a filmed performance of a stage production. So, although the camera work at the opening—right from the beautiful tracking of Julyana Soliestyo’s petite Ariel (all blue from head to toe) as she floats downward to retrieve Prospero’s magic book to the edgy cutting from face to face at different angles for the storm scene—attempts to impart a filmic sense to the production, the piece is stage-bound. This is, perhaps, as it should rightly be, for we are watching a filmed performance—as with Olivier’s Othello or Dance of Death.

            Plummer has Prospero’s authority, anger, and vindictiveness. McAnuff turns him into a virtually omniscient being, ever present in the background, observing the storm and its consequences. Plummer is not the most paternal of Prosperos. His relationship with Miranda is almost a token one. He saves his best for Ariel, but even here, he fails to make something really tremendous of Prospero’s moral conversion. Nevertheless, there are few actors around anywhere on the English-speaking stage who can match him for verse-speaking, so his Prospero is an example of great verse-speaking rather than true verse-acting. The best performances, apart from Plummer’s, are still the ones that were the best on stage at the Stratford Festival, and some of them have actually gained in microphonic close-up. Looking authentically other-worldly in her blue, Julyana Soliestyo has obviously benefited from stage playing time, and her gymnastic movements have delicate grace. Dion Johnston’s Caliban (in a vividly painted body costume) is still reptilian but has grown in force. Trish Lindstrom’s red-haired Miranda looks wide-eyed whether she is in shock or awe, but at least she isn’t merely a wispy virgin. The courtiers remain mainly dull, bland, or pompous, but they are offset by the vigorous comedy of Bruce Dow’s campy Trinculo and Geraint Wyn-Davies’s soused Scot of a Stephano.

            Much was made of the technical marvels in McAnuff’s stage production, and some of this magic survives on film, particularly the flashes in Prospero’s magic cloak, Ferdinand’s floating sword, or all of Ariel’s aerial work. However, the three goddesses are a downright failure, and the harpy scene goes for little. What matters most, however, is Plummer, and though his is not the greatest Prospero by any means, it is a vocally magisterial one, and certainly a performance that justifies this film record. Anyone who did not experience it at Stratford should not miss it on film.