An Urban ‘Tempest’ in Awkward Teapot

Andrew Tsao apparently was inspired by the Cirque du Soleil and vaudeville styles of the early 20th century in his staging of “The Tempest.” It’s an attractive blend, supported by sterling characterizations.

Yet it doesn’t fit smoothly into Shakespeare Festival/LA’s latest primary venue, the Watercourt at California Plaza in downtown Los Angeles.

A couple of months ago, the festival’s producing artistic director, Ben Donenberg, praised the site’s computerized water sculptures as one of its strong lures. It sounded plausible that they could be a part of “The Tempest,” which begins with a storm at sea and is set on an island.

The production is indeed set on an island in the Watercourt pool, but it’s very close to the shore. Unless you’re in the front row, it’s easy to forget the water--only a couple of brief gestures remind us of it. The water sculptures aren’t used at all.

Maybe fountains would have been too noisy. This production certainly needs no extra noise distractions. On Saturday, airplanes and helicopters seemed to buzz overhead on cue during the play’s climaxes. Strains of music drifted over from a nearby party. Fortunately, the “Tempest” sound system made most of Shakespeare’s words audible.

So scratch special water effects. Still, wouldn’t the island venue encourage a design that emphasizes the wilderness within Prospero’s enchanted island? Yet Tsao and designer Doug Rogers headed in the opposite direction, placing the action “inside” an old-fashioned vaudeville house, complete with footlights and a proscenium.

Perhaps Tsao was more interested in the venue’s location, smack-dab downtown, than in its physical characteristics (though this production moves to a more bucolic destination, South Coast Botanic Garden in Rolling Hills Estates on July 24-27). Perhaps he wanted to demonstrate that “The Tempest” can be urban. The early-1900s design coordinates well with the Angels Flight funicular railway station, just behind the stage, but it’s dwarfed by the skyscrapers that make up most of the horizon.

The concept would make more sense in a traditional indoor theater, no matter its location. Here, the audience spreads out in a wide, fan-like pattern. Many of the seats are on the sides, yet some of this production’s key moments take place inside the relatively two-dimensional space of the proscenium. The entertainment Prospero provides for the young lovers consists of 2-D film images of themselves and other characters in rehearsal--it simulates a flickering, sepia-tinged early silent film. Good idea, wrong venue.

Even in the center section, third row, sight lines are sometimes obscured, because the folding chairs are on a flat surface. The misshapen Caliban, who spends most of his time near the ground (valiant Dan Hildebrand’s right arm and leg are bound together inside a sleeve, so he walks on three limbs) is especially hard to see. If the festival returns to this venue, raked seating should be a top priority.

Despite these problems, there are some enchanting moments. As in the Cirque, actors sometimes stride forward from the rear in sweeping grand entrances. Ariel (Rainbow Underhill) and two lesser spirits move and sound like Cirque sprites and use a big blue sphere and a charming overhead paper lantern to cast visions on the stage.

*

The spirits wear white fright wigs reminiscent of Harpo Marx--here the Cirque and vaudeville influences begin to mingle. The vaudeville strain reaches its apex in the scenes with Trinculo (Lance Davis) and Stephano (David Paul Francis). Davis has the straw hat, cigar, bushy eyebrows, bow tie, plaid attire (costumer: Anita Yavich) and spoken cadences of a Groucho precursor, and Francis is an Arbuckle-style baggy-pants clown. Both are in pasty white makeup. They’re funny.

The humanity of Tom Ramirez’s authoritative Prospero is evident even when he’s in his fiercest rage--note the wry comments of his eyebrows. Elizabeth Stauber’s Miranda and Maulik Pancholy’s Ferdinand are a graceful pair of young lovers. Bob Pescovitz’s Antonio and James Marsters’ Sebastian are properly scurvy knaves--yet Aled Davies’ Alonso clearly has a conscience, before he even realizes it. Clive Rosengren does well by Gonzalo, a lovable windbag.

* “The Tempest,” California Plaza Watercourt, 350 S. Grand Ave., Los Angeles. Wednesday-Sunday, 8:15 p.m. Admission: nonperishable food for the needy. (213) 489-1121. Moves to South Coast Botanic Garden, 26300 Crenshaw Blvd., Rolling Hills Estates, July 24-27, 8:15 p.m. (310) 265-0627. $12.50-$15. Running time: 2 hours 50 minutes.

Tom Ramirez: Prospero

Elizabeth Stauber: Miranda

Dan Hildebrand: Caliban

Rainbow Underhill: Ariel

Aled Davies: Alonso

James Marsters: Sebastian

Bob Pescovitz: Antonio

Maulik Pancholy: Ferdinand

Clive Rosengren: Gonzalo

Lance Davis: Trinculo

David Paul Francis: Stephano

Devon Guthrie, Rihana Terrell: Airy Spirits

A Shakespeare Festival/LA production of William Shakespeare’s romance. Directed by Andrew Tsao. Set by Doug Rogers. Lighting by Doreen Tighe. Costumes by Anita Yavich. Sound by Michael Cousins. Music by Jean-Pierre Bedoyan and Dawn Fintor. Movement coordinator Nick Erickson. Dramaturg Dakin Matthews. Magic consultant Eugene Burger. Production stage manager Janet Takami. Film by Francisco Menendez.