On Wednesday evening, Nigel Gore’s Prospero gave me The Tempest I have been waiting for. First, and not least, his performance was consistent. I have long waited for a performance that showed the profound loneliness of this character. A temperament carefully hidden makes it clear.
The midwestern family, hardly one of the United States’ more perfect contributions to civilization, has taken its share of abuse from writers since before Mark Twain’s time. In recent years, Tracy Letts, with his August: Osage County, started something of a industry for himself in the theatrical exploitation of this somewhat over-ripe institution, but he has by no means cornered the market. The American — not only the midwestern — family remains a gift that keeps on giving.