Many re-settings of Shakespeare seem like mere window dressing, a decision about the production's look rather than its concept. But every now and then someone chooses a time and place that shows us a whole different play than the one we thought was there. Moreover, it accomplishes this task without distortion, so the new meaning seems to have been there all along awaiting discovery.
This was the case when Brian Bedford reset Othello in the Navy during the Second World War: in that context of immediate martial and racial tension, the Moor's suspicions suddenly made sense. And it's the case in Chicago Shakespeare Theater's production of "The Tempest". To be sure, Director Barbara Gaines is not the first to notice the play's racist undertones; a number of productions have highlighted the issue of colonialism, making Prospero an intrusive conqueror rather than a wronged sage. But Gaines takes this insight to a whole new level by setting the play during the Reconstruction. It upends all expectations to realize that Prospero is dressed in white not because he's the embodiment of virtue but because he's a Southern planter-and a slaveholder. There are the obedient ones he favors (Ariel) and the uppity ones he punishes (Caliban), but in any case his word is law. Likewise the usurpers look utterly 1different in the gold-braided blue of the Union forces: how can they be the bad guys? Oh, right-they're not. However accidentally or comically, they are the emancipators.
So when at the end the characters rejoice that "the time is past when each man was parted from himself," they're speaking not only of their own reconciliation and enlightenment but of the end of slavery. It's easy to recognize that Caliban is oppressed, but Gaines has the unblinking insight to see and show that Ariel is as well, no matter how "dearly" his master loves him -- "how I love ya, how I love ya, my dear old Mammy!" In her hands, Prospero's "Every third thought shall be my grave" because his revels truly are ended: his way of life is, well, gone with the wind.
The approach is much subtler than my bald translation of it, and the result is an evening full of unsettling characterizations that nonetheless hit right on the mark. As Prospero, Larry Yando is harsh, grating, almost desperate as he sees his power slip away and, like many another Southern white man, obsessively concerned with his daughter's virtue and the slaves' lust. Yando is an actor capable of so much warmth that one yearns to see him as the traditional good Prospero, but he resists special pleading on his character's behalf and gives a performance of such integrity that it sustains the entire interpretation.
As Prospero is besmirched, so Caliban (the excellent Scott Jaeck) is ennobled: natural dignity shines through his distorted body and speech patterns, and his rage is only appropriate to a man enchained after being displaced from his home. Jay Whittaker as Ariel gives unintrusive emphasis to the sprite's eagerness for liberty, with support from Gaines' decision to conclude with a reiteration of "Freedom, hi day!" -- depriving Prospero of his traditional last word. Greg Vinkler and Scott Parkinson, as Stephano and Trinculo, make as comically sad-sack a pair of carpetbaggers as one could wish.
Exceptional design work complements Gaines's direction, particularly from properties designer Pamela L. Parker, who makes spirits grow from human to gargantuan right before our eyes. Sound designer Robert Neuhaus wonderfully suggests the "isle full of noises," and gives composer Alaric Jans the acoustic support he deserves, while choreographer Harrison McEldowney makes sure the sprites are flying even when not in harness.
But this is a director's piece first to last, and Gaines deserves high praise for taking a familiar text and presenting it in a whole new light. Her sort of intellectual daring is always in short supply.