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There was certainly much about the hurried switch from in-person to online teaching and learning in the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic that inspired angst. The decisions that many colleges and universities made to halt on-campus activities and deconcentrate their communities left scores of us scrambling to pack up some of the things we hoped would help us withstand a few weeks away from our offices and classrooms. When I think back on those frenzied days, I often chuckle at how naive I was about the extent to which the pandemic would radically upend our lives, forcing us to rethink every aspect of our ways of being in the world. I was in the middle of leading a discussion on The Tempest in my dramaturgy course when the official word came down from university administrators that all classes would move online and most students would have to vacate their residence halls. A palpable feeling of dread quickly swept over the stuffy classroom. Students began to weep and to wonder out loud what the news would mean for, say, their senior thesis projects or the department's futuristic mounting of The Tempest, which would have to shutter before its second weekend of scheduled performances. I tried my best to remain optimistic, even as I too began to question what the fast-moving changes would mean for how we would finish out the semester. I felt a special call to offer comfort, reaffirming my commitment to supporting students no matter what was ahead.

This article is based on the author's production of Aimé Césaire's A Tempest in India. Guided by the concept of transculturation, a key concern of Kamaluddin Nilu in the working process was to develop positions that could be considered parallel to those of Césaire. The topographical condition of present-day India is interpreted as ‘internal colonialism’, locked in differences within, and presented through a double-framed vision. The parallel to ‘black subjectivity’ was found to be the Dalits, who suffer from systematic discrimination and are segregated from the main social body. Further, when adjusting the text to ‘India's world’, the notion of a ‘third space’, benefiting from the performance matrix of the traditional ritualistic performance Ram Lila as well as a heterotopian space concept, was crucial. The intention to make a theatre production that could give the audience an opportunity to engage in a political debate on the hierarchical nature of Indian society was fulfilled. Breaking the established postcolonial political myth meant that the audience was faced with the unexpected. In such cases an indirect or parabolic performance mode of communication rather than a synergetic one becomes likely. Kamaluddin Nilu is an independent theatre director and researcher affiliated with the Centre for Ibsen Studies, University of Oslo. He is currently a Research Fellow at the International Research Centre ‘Interweaving Performance Cultures’ at the Freie University, Berlin. He was Chair Professor of the Theatre Department at Hyderabad University in India, and Artistic Director of the Centre for Asian Theatre (CAT) in Dhaka.

Charles Macklin, the celebrated eighteenth-century actor and playwright, is now remembered as a comedian and a comedic writer; however, his first produced work as an author was the historical drama Henry VII, or the Popish Imposter. This was immediately condemned as a flop and, although it was published, it was never again produced. In this article Michael M. Wagoner examines the nature of the play’s failure by questioning the accepted narratives of theatrical success. Specifically, he engages issues of audience reception as well as the playwright’s persona to understand the combined relationship between the two dynamics that can result in a play’s failure. Ultimately, both Macklin’s persona and his later work secured the flop narrative in order to temper the subsequent expectations of his audiences. Michael M. Wagoner is a doctoral candidate at Florida State University, and he holds an MFA in Shakespeare and Performance from Mary Baldwin College. His research examines the performance and dramaturgy of early modern drama, and his essay ‘Imaginative Bodies and Bodies Imagined: Extreme Casting in Shakespeare’s The Tempest and Fletcher and Massinger’s The Sea Voyage’ will appear in The Bear Stage: Shaping Shakespeare for Performance (Farleigh Dickinson University Press, 2015).

“Dramaturging The Tempest: A Pedagogical Forum,” uses dramaturgy—the interface between research and its practical application in the theatre—as a way of preparing The Tempest for a college course curriculum. The article aims to show instructors how to teach dramaturgy as an explication of The Tempest and how to use The Tempest as a means of teaching dramaturgy. The objective is for students to emerge from the course conversant in how to be dramaturgs in the preparation of a professional production. Dramaturgy also illuminates the highly metadramatic underscoring of The Tempest, a play that constantly invites its own characters to be audience to, and critics of, Prospero’s carefully constructed “worldview.”My brief for this journal issue is to write an essay on The Tempest that can be used as an explication de texte for teaching postcolonial studies. As a practicing dramaturg, I’ve decided to focus on postcolonial dramaturgy. What does a dramaturg do? What can be gained from dramaturgical teaching, and how is it prepared for? What skills will students develop?

The Galactic center central molecular zone (GCCMZ) bears similarities with extragalactic starburst regions, including a high supernova (SN) rate density. As in other starbursts like M82, the frequent SNe can heat the ISM until it is filled with a hot (∼ 4 × 107 K) superwind. Furthermore, the random forcing from SNe stirs up the wind, powering Mach 1 turbulence. I argue that a turbulent dynamo explains the strong magnetic fields in starbursts, and I predict an average B ∼70 μG in the GCCMZ. I demonstrate how the SN driving of the ISM leads to equipartition between various pressure components in the ISM. The SN-heated wind escapes the center, but I show that it may be stopped in the Galactic halo. I propose that the Fermi bubbles are the wind's termination shock.

The curtain rose at the King's Theatre, Edinburgh, on 14 August 2011 to reveal a richly textured production ofThe Tempeston a bare stage with minimal props. As the lights came up, a group of white-robed sailors were caught in a meticulously choreographed storm, dancing to the mesmerizing beats of the master drummer upstage. The performers’ costumes echoed traditional Koreanhanbokattire and their acting style incorporatedt'alch'ummask-dance drama techniques. Their long white sleeves flapped and swayed in sync with their movements. Engulfed in stagewide sapphire and then crimson lighting, their sleeves were transformed from symbols of violent wind and waves to raging fire on board a ship approaching a world where, as Gonzalo aptly summarized, “no man was his own” (5.1.211). With Prospero (King Zilzi) as the drummer upstage and Ariel dancing in the midst of the unfortunate sailors, the storm scene—one of the longest renditions of the “direful spectacle” (1.2.26) in the performance history ofThe Tempest—served as an anchor to the tragicomic narrative about the self and the other. For a fleeting moment, Prospero gave the impression of being a drillmaster at the helm.

The Craiova International Shakespeare Festival has been a major touchstone in Europe for theatre artists, theatregoers, and scholars for nearly two decades. This overview briefly situates the Festival historically, indicating the ideals and perspectives developed for it by its founder Emil Boroghina, former director of the National Theatre of Craiova. It identifies as well a number of the Festival's many highlights over the years, Romanian as well as international, and focuses on examples from the 2012 programme, including Silviu Purcarte's The Tempest and Robert Wilson's Shakespeare's Sonnets performed by the Berliner Ensemble. Attention is drawn to the presence at the successive editions of the Festival of productions directed by Purcarete, who established his career at the National Theatre of Craiova, to which Boroghina had invited him, and who won international fame after performances of his Ubu Rex with Scenes from Macbeth at the 1991 Edinburgh Festival. Maria Shevtsova holds the Chair in Drama and Theatre Arts at Goldsmiths, University of London, and is co-editor of New Theatre Quarterly.

The religious beliefs of seafarers have not received a great deal of attention over the years. Contemporaries of early modern English seafarers stereotyped them as superstitious and irreligious, prone to turning to God only in times of danger. The Puritan William Perkins preached about ‘the Mariner, who is onely good in a storme’. The association of seafarers, irreligion and superstition was also reflected in popular literature. Edmund Spenser, in The Faerie Qveene, wrote of ‘the glad merchant, that does vew from ground / His ship far come from watrie wildernesse, / He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse’. These stereotypes have coloured the historiography of maritime religion, which has drawn a division between ‘superstition’ and religion in seafaring culture. However, recent work on religion and provi-dentialism on land shows this to be a faulty paradigm.

In Shakespeare's The Tempest, the meeting between Prospero and Caliban is an allegory of a Renaissance colonial encounter. Although Prospero emphasizes his gift of language to Caliban, he deems him incapable of ‘nurture’ (cultural progress). After the Second World War, the Barbadian novelist Georges Lamming saw in that gift the possibility of a ‘new departure’, which in the following decades was to modify not only Caliban's prospects but most emphatically the European, and specifically, the British cultural scene. I intend to illustrate this transformation through the contribution of postcolonial writers to the metamorphosis of the ‘Great Tradition’ of the English novel. The changes are formal, linguistic but also evince a metaphysical cross-culturalism best exemplified, among others, in the fiction of the Guyanese-born, British novelist Wilson Harris.

The unresolved debate on the mfecane in southern African history has been marked by general acceptance of the proposition that large-scale loss of life and disruption of settled society was experienced across the whole region. Attempts to quantify either the violence or mortality have been stymied by a lack of evidence. What apparently reliable evidence does exist describes small districts, most notably the Caledon Valley. In contrast to Julian Cobbing, who called the mfecane an alibi for colonial-sponsored violence, this article argues that much documentation of conflict in the Caledon region consisted of various ‘alibis’ for African land seizures and claims in the 1840s and 1850s.

The Italian director Giorgio Strehler (1921–97) staged more plays by Shakespeare than by any other playwright, but only a few of his most recent and successful Shakespearean stagings have received international critical attention. By focusing on one of Strehler's early productions, The Tempest of 1948, this article has a double purpose: to examine the cultural context of a production that was quite anomalous for the Piccolo Teatro of Milan, then in its second season, and to underline how, from the beginning of his career, Strehler developed a crucial attention for a mutable theatre space.

In their “Editors' Preface” to the Cambridge University Press Shakespeare in Production series, J. S. Bratton and Julie Hankey proudly describe the “comprehensive dossier of materials,” including “eye-witness accounts, contemporary criticism, promptbook marginalia, stage business, cuts, additions and rewritings,” that make up the heart of this brilliant and exceptionally useful collection of Shakespeare editions. Conceived by Jeremy Treglown and first published by Junction Books, the series was later printed by Bristol Classical Press as Plays in Performance, though none of the original four titles remains in print. Already published in the descendant Cambridge Shakespeare in Production series are nine plays—A Midsummer Night's Dream, Much Ado about Nothing, Antony and Cleopatra, Hamlet, The Tempest, King Henry V, Romeo and Juliet, The Taming of the Shrew, and The Merchant of Venice—with Macbeth, Twelfth Night, Troilus and Cressida, Othello, and As You Like It forthcoming.

The invention of Giorgione's much-interpreted painting known asThe Tempestcan be explained with reference to theDe rerum naturaof Lucretius. Lucretius provides the essential connection between the main elements of the painting: a male 'wanderer,' a lightning bolt, broken columns, a naked, nursing female, and a landscape rendered according to momentary, fleeting appearances. The invention of the painting also responds to the way Lucretius was read around 1500, to the specific interests of the poet's Renaissance readers and imitators, and to forms of self-cultivation associated with the ownership of astudiolo.

Recent moves by New Historicists to evaluate theatrical material from the early modern period have been at the expense of what historians would recognize as acceptable use of historical context. One of the most glaring examples of the dangers of taking a play out of such a proper context has been The Tempest. The play has had a great deal of literary criticism devoted to it, attempting to fit it into comfortable twentieth-century clothing in regard to its commentary on empire, at the expense of what the play's depiction of imperialism meant for the year 1611 when it was written. The purpose of this paper will therefore be to suggest that the play does not actually call into question the Jacobean process of colonization across the Atlantic at all, and suggests that of more importance for its audience would have been the depiction of the hegemony of the island nation of Great Britain as recreated in 1603. Such a historical reconstruction is helped through contrasting Shakespeare's play with the Jonson, Chapman, and Marston collaboration, Eastward Ho, as well as with the anonymous Masque of Flowers and Chapman's Memorable Masque. These works will be used to illustrate just what colonialism might mean for the Jacobean audience when the Virginia project was invoked and suggest that an American tale The Tempest is not.

Herbert Beerbohm Tree (1853–1917) is remembered today as a great character actor, as a personality, and as a wit: but as a producer he is seldom considered an important or even a positive influence on the course of Shakespearean interpretation in the twentieth century. Focusing on Tree's 1904 production of The Tempest, Brian Pearce argues that Tree was in fact an original and inventive director. Contrasting the faint praise or contempt of theatre historians with the adoption of many of Tree's ideas in later literary criticism of The Tempest, Pearce also suggests that the acceptance of the right of contemporary experimental directors to act in effect as ‘scenic artists’ sits oddly with attitudes to Tree's work, in which he fulfilled precisely such a role. Brian Pearce completed his PhD at the University of London in 1992, and since returning to South Africa has worked as a theatre director. He is a member of the board of directors of the Durban Theatre Workshop Company, and also teaches drama at Technikon Natal.

This essay is offered as a tribute to Jan Kott in appreciation of all he has done to stimulate international enthusiasm for Shakespeare's plays.

In the first issue of New Theatre Quarterly (February 1985), David Williams presented a conspective overview of the work of Peter Brook at the International Centre for Theatre Research in Paris. More recently, in NTQ26 (May 1991), Paul B. Cohen analyzed Brook's evolving views on the interaction between performers and audience – the worlds of the imagination and the everyday. Here, Peter Brook himself, in conversation with Jean Kalman, discusses with a characteristically eclectic range of references and comparisons the idea of the theatrical ‘event’ and how it is generated, touching in passing on subjects as diverse as the construction and deconstruction of linear narrative and the significance and nature of improvisation. The interviewer, Jean Kalman, is a lighting designer who has collaborated with Peter Brook on many of his productions in recent years, including The Cherry Orchard, The Mahabharata, Woza Albert! and The Tempest.

After slipping away from Athens about evening (Dieg. 10.27–8 περ σπέραν πρεν), Theseus on his journey to Marathon runs into a violent rainstorm, which breaks out suddenly after a warm and brilliant afternoon, so that he has to take refuge in Hecale's poor cottage. We owe to P. Oxy. 2216 fr. 1 as well as to some Testimonia the following text of the tempest, fr. 238.15–32 Pfeiffer = 18 Hollis

In his seminal studies of Shakespeare on film—one appearing in an earlier number of this publication—Robert Hamilton Ball traced Beerbohm Tree's involvement with four film projects that spanned his twenty-year career (1897–1917) at His Majesty's Theatre: the opening shipwreck from his 1904 revival of The Tempest, captured on film at His Majesty's in 1905 by Charles Urban; a five-scene version of Henry VIII based on his 1910 production featuring him as Cardinal Wolsey and filmed in February 1911 at William Barker's Ealing studio; a 1916 Macbeth, bearing no direct resemblance to his 1911 stage version, filmed in California by D.W. Griffith with Tree playing the title role; and, though allegedly not as extensive as the others but certainly the most important historically, a brief segment from his King John revival filmed in 1899 on the Adelphi embankment—Tree's initial cinematographic venture and the very first record of Shakespeare on film. Although little is known about the exact nature of these films because the primary sources—the films themselves—are lost, Ball, working from the knowledge that the films were, in the main, transcriptions of either the stage revivals or Tree's roles, reconstructed their contents by culling mostly from theatrical documents such as reviews and programs and augmenting these with rare descriptions or photographs from the films whenever available.

Imagine what would have happened if Prospero had come out in front of the curtain at the end of the first performance of Shakespeare's Tempest on 1 November 1611 and if, at his wordsNow, 'tis true,I must be here confin'd by you,Or sent to Naples. Let me not,Since I have my dukedom gotAnd pardon'd the deceiver, dwellIn this bare island by your spell;But release me from my bandsWith the help of your good hands.Gentle breath of yours my sailsMust fill, or else my project fails,Which was to please […],the audience had not applauded. In accordance with Jacobean theatrical practice, the sound of applause breaks the theatrical illusion.

By all (press) accounts, the overture to The Tempest, Thomas Adès's first full-scale opera, was completed at speed – just five days before the 20 February première, at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. Comparisons with Rossini naturally followed, but the question remained whether such facility would be married to the necessary substance for a setting of Shakespeare's play Robin Holloway's claim (in the Financial Times) that the opera was ‘make or break’ for Adès may in hindsight come to appear somewhat overstated, but there is no doubt that this was an important milestone in the composer's career.

Contents: Preface 1. Origins 2. The Undergraduate Experience 3. College Fellow in a Changing University 4. Bachelor Don at Large 5. Career of a Moral Scientist 6. Late-Victorian Family Life 7. Academic Administration 8. Faculty Conflicts and Tripos Reform 9. Post-Victorian Academic Family 10. The Impact of War 11. Beacon in Retirement Index

No one who has served in the Royal Air Force for any length of time can be anything but vividly aware of the intimate connection of Sir Sydney Camm with the Service, and the profound effect that he and his aircraft have had upon us. The list of military aircraft for which he was responsible from 1925 onwards reads almost like a history of the Royal Air Force: Hornbill, Hart, Fury, Hurricane, Typhoon, Tempest, Hunter, P.1127 and the Hawk.

UPON the Restoration of Charles II in 1660 Matthew Locke received three places in the King's Musick: private composer to the King in the place of John Coprario, composer in the wind music in place ofAlfonso Ferrabosco (ii), and a new place as composer for the band of violins. He was also made organist to the Queen at her chapel (probably because of his Catholic religion), and he composed the music for the elaborate celebrations marking the return of the King to London. Locke was then thirty-eight years old, and in his spare time he moonlighted as composer for the Duke of York's Theatre Company organized by Sir William Davenant. The King's band of violins formed the basic complement of musicians for the two major theatrical companies. The better composers among them were hired as house composers to supply the music for the plays, operatic Shakespeare adaptations and heroic dramatic operas of the Restoration theatre. This is the continuity of a tradition begun earlier in the century by the King's Men Players, Richard Burbage's and Shakespeare's company, for whom Robert Johnson, Ferrabosco (ii), William Lawes and others wrote music. Locke's association with the Duke of York's Men became clear to me when, after identifying sixteen dramatic works for which he had written music, I realized that all but one had been produced by that company. With few exceptions, each company had exclusive rights to its own plays. We have a sizable amount of music for only four of Locke's dramatic works. The 1659 version of James Shirley's Cupid and Death is complete, the only completely extant masque in existence. The theatre masque of Orpheus from the fourth act of Elkanah Settle's play, The Empress of Morocco of 1673 is likewise complete, and a unique example of its kind. For the Dryden-Davenant-Shadwell operatic adaptation of Shakespeare's Tempest in 1674 we have Locke's complete instrumental music, which was published together with his dramatic opera, Psyche, in 1675, two years before his death. The vocal music for the Tempest is by others and is also extant. Psyche, Locke's last dramatic venture, while it is not complete, lacks only Baptista Draghi's music for the dances. It is the first dramatic musical score to have been printed in England, and the prototype of English dramatic opera as it was perfected by Henry Purcell, Locke's young friend and possibly his pupil as well. In his preface to the printed text of Psyche the dramatist, Thomas Shadwell, tells us that the subject was suggested to him by the great Shakespearean actor, Thomas Betterton, who was manager of the new Duke of York's Theatre in Dorset Gardens. Betterton had recently returned from a trip to Paris, sometime between 1671 and 1673, where he no doubt saw a performance of the French PsychI, a 'tragidie-ballet' in which Moliere, Pierre Corneille, Quinault and Lully

Matthew Locke Dramatic Music with the Music by Humfrey, Reggio, Banister and Hart for ‘The Tempest’, edited by Michael Tilmouth. Musica Britannica, 51. London, 1986. xxxi + 237 pp. ISBN 0 85249 624 9.

For Theatre audiences the central moment in The Tempest is more likely to be Prospero's revels than the "revels" speech long anthologized for readers as one of the beauties of Shakespeare. In performance die nuptial masque for Ferdinand and Miranda, suddenly resplendent and suddenly dissolved, displays Shakespeare's most elaborate stage spectacle, and it is on the force of that moment that the more famous speech reflects.