Our Tempest

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, 
As I foretold you, were all spirits and 
Are melted into air, into thin air: 
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made on, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. (IV.i.148–158) 

Prospero’s disruption of the masque in Shakespeare’s The Tempest reveals, with a sadness, the ephemerality of performance as a metaphor for the ephemerality of life. With a sudden burst, the performance ends, as one day too the “great globe itself… shall dissolve.” And yet, the play continues. Prospero finds some bittersweet solace in giving up his power on the island in exchange for a return to civilization, where problems of humanity await. He leaves the island full of spirits behind to be decolonized, left with only the memory of man’s oppressive power over nature.  

Our Tempest by Jake Brasch similarly addresses the ephemeral through its examination of the intersectionality of climate change, queerness, and performance. This intersection is multifaceted; climate change affects all people, but queer people are disproportionately affected by discrimination, prejudice, and social exclusion, exacerbating the impacts of climate change. These impacts are systemic and recursive; the exploitation and degradation of the natural environment is often linked to the same systems of oppression and exploitation that affect today’s marginalized communities (as they did Shakespeare’s Ariel and Caliban).  

Complicating this intersection is the play’s question about the value of theatre as a tool for social change. Who is theatre for? What is theatre good for? Is the theatre, as Prospero suggests, an “insubstantial pageant?” What does it mean to perform environmentalism? How do you develop a queer identity in such a fragile landscape when so many social signifiers are, as Judith Butler argues, fundamentally performative?  

As a storytelling framework, realism will dissolve into magical realism as Jessica brings her students into the woods. Surrounded by nature, extraordinary creatures and events intermingle with ordinary people, just as they did on Prospero’s island. But for the students in the play, this magic allows them to directly challenge the dominant narratives surrounding queerness and climate change. By disrupting these narratives and creating alternative realities through the play’s use of natural elements, we aim to explore the relationship between human beings and their environments, both social and natural, uncovering the characters’ urgent need to understand their ephemeral world and define their place within it.  

Stories are told and retold to create a shared history and to make meaning of our prior experiences. This narrative recycling builds an important human bond, but it also has the power to rewrite our past and reimagine our future. Discovering new uses for old words, objects, and ideas in this play sets the stage for a radical reimagining of creative collaboration as a tool for exploring the possibilities of tomorrow. The students in Our Tempest cannot simply perform Shakespeare’s original play because the urgency of their present moment supersedes the oppressive narratives of before. And yet, they each choose to perform a play. Their play. This choice to create together, as a community, in the face of their “great globe’s” dissolution is itself an act of defiance and solidarity.  

Our Tempest asks its audience to evaluate the narrative recycling they do in their own lives: whose stories do you tell? Whose stories do you hear? What can we do to upend old narratives and create new ones that might lead us to a more equitable, sustainable future? We have a short time to define our communities and our roles within them before we, too, “leave not a rack behind.” The characters in Our Tempest choose to continue telling a new story even when they don’t know how, or when, the story will end. In their commitment to each other we find hope, not the dejected resignation with which Prospero articulates our fleeting moments here on earth. We hope you will find hope, too. 

Caroline Jane Davis, Director
Furman University, Spring 2023
In Collaboration with the Farm Theater College Collaboration Project