Summary 
Showcase production for William Hutt, 35-year veteran of the Stratford Festival. A rather plain romance, clumsily costumed, focuses on Hutt's stern wizard Prospero, and his growth into fatherly forgiveness. A strong lead performance within a less than memorable staging that seems to choose to stay out of the sorcerer's way.
Design
Directed by Richard Monette. Designed by Meredith Caron. Lights by Michael J. Whitfield. Sound by Scott Matthews. Compositions by Berthold Carriere. Fights by James Binkley. Choreographed by John Broome.
Cast
William Hutt (Prospero), Claire Jullien (Miranda), Robert Benson (Antonio), Lewis Gordon (Alonso), Graham Abbey (Ferdinand), Ian Deakin (Sebastian), Bernard Hopkins (Gonzalo), Michael Therriault (Ariel), Peter Hutt (Caliban), Tim MacDonald (Trinculo), Brian Tree (Stephano).
Analysis
William Hutt celebrates his thirty-fifth season with the Stratford Festival with this Festival-anchoring production of The Tempest. Still vigorous in his late seventies, Hutt looks the role - lean and mean, with a long shock of straight-up white hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and make-up enhanced piercing eyes - and he plays the role even better, alternating between vengeful mage and increasingly compassionate family man - father, father-figure, and brother - until the family man completely emerges.
Richard Monette directs the production as an elegy, drawing parallels between Prospero and the approaching end of Hutt's artistic career with thoughtful reflections on endings and new beginnings with the passing of a mantle to a new generation. A charming Miranda, played by Claire Jullien with brightness of spirit and fresh innocence, becomes enthralled with the arrival of the wonderfully-clad Old World Europeans and especially Ferdinand - "O brave new world!" - portrayed by rising Festival star Graham Abbey as a handsome and self-effacing young gentleman. Together, they represent the hope inherent within a promising new generation (and interestingly, Abbey and Julllien will star together, in three seasons' time, upon the same showcase stage in the title roles of Romeo and Juliet). But the moment belongs to Hutt, and Monette allows him long reflective moments of stage time. Hutt transitions with veteran skill and subtlety, at first the mysterious magician on an enchanted island.
Monette begins the production with its most memorable dramatic moments. With the house lights still up, Hutt slowly enters the bare wooden stage and with some reluctance picks up his long, curled-wood magician's staff. The lights drop in a sudden blackout in the midst of dramatic flashes of lightning and roars of thunder. Hutt stands with arms upraised amid a cacophony of storm light and sound effects, and around and below him mariners and passengers burst onto the stage, scurrying in panic from entrance to entrance and back again. Desperation seems to mount into fear but Hutt's Prospero gestures again, and just as suddenly, the panicked men freeze frame in reverberating silence. Hutt's Prospero gives an unyielding glare to the audience, then a blackout concludes the scene.
In newspaper interviews, Hutt revealed pre-opening that he was seeking "a greater sense of fatherhood" in this portrayal of Prospero. Not so much a magician ruling an enchanted new world island or even an avenging wrongly-deposed monarch, at least after the initial scene, Hutt's Prospero transforms into elderly artist, reflective retiree, and benevolent father. He pats the abomination Caliban - played by Hutt's real-life nephew, Peter - upon his hairy head with a benign patience, like an unruly child would be treated by his affectionate father, and in a pointed role reversal, meekly acknowledges a scolding from the ethereal Ariel regarding the temptation of vengeance over the act of forgiveness.
Monette presents a contrast between the old and new worlds with varied success. The dark and heavy brocade robes worn by the old world aristocracy are appropriately bulky and overly ornate on the Atlantic island, while Hutt is simply attired in a lightweight white robe flecked with gold. The simplicity speaks volumes, but apart from Miranda's lovely costumes, other designs are distracting. The dim-witted Caliban lurches clumsily across the stage in a lumpy gorilla suit, a simpleton with a hard-to-discern thick-tongued delivery. He has darkened eyes and long, claw-like fingers, plus a horned head of wildly curly hair and an unkempt beard. Not quite man or animal, he plays as an oddity, as does Ariel, a quick-moving, very slight figure - part man, part insect - in a white body stocking and wings, with long, literally feathered fingers like additional tiny winglets. The costumes split the artistic difference, not convincingly base for Caliban or ethereal for Ariel, with the visual impact being that the characters are some kind of human mutation. The act four masque - with the arrival of the female goddesses Iris, Ceres, and Juno, also plays awkwardly, with the ladies strutting across the stage like Las Vegas showgirls or a skin-heavy burlesque act rather than as immortal spirits. With their entrance, fairies overcrowd the stage in a twirling ballet dance that seems clumsy and looks inelegant. One particular element of the costume design does work well: the frightening head dresses - squirming with snakes - worn to scare the clowns during the 3.3 banquet trick have a colorful visual impact.
Miranda and Ferdinand present not just an attractive couple, but the combination of the Old World with the New, and a bright ray of hope for the future. Monette draws an effective parallel between Prospero's benediction of the characters and a passing of the Festival mantle from Hutt to rising Festival stars Abbey and Jullien. Abbey, debonair and earnest as the sometimes daft Ferdinand, sparks with chemistry with Jullien, who reveals daughterly obedience to and trust for Hutt's Prospero, falling into a trance with just a wave of his hand.
The other supporting cast members are serviceable if unremarkable, with the exception of the aging Gonzalo, whose aching words and longing for paradise come with heartfelt emotion.
But the play is Prospero's, and this production is William Hutt's, and when he wields a staff to form a magic circle to enclose the royals within his forgiveness, one senses the great stage actor wishes he could contain his audience as well. His performance brims with dignity, clearly and forcefully spoken, and with his character's newly discovered fatherly benevolence and forgiving spirit, draws a resounding standing ovation. Hutt delivers the epilogue to great fanfare after Ariel sings a lilting song - "where the bee sucks" - and the production concludes.