William Shakespeare probably didn't envision Stephanos as a gay doctor, Antonio as a faithless wife, or Caliban as a goatherd with a Trinitron, but the Bard's had worse done to his good work over time, and might even enjoy the sumptuous pageant of life that is his "Tempest" as re-configured by Paul Mazursky and co-writer Leon Capetanos.
This time, Prospero is Philip Dimitrius (John Cassevetes), a Manhattan-based architect tired of designing Atlantic City casinos for the amiable Mafioso Alonso (Vittorio Gassman), especially after discovering Alonso is carrying on an affair with Philip's wife Antonia (Gena Rowlands). Along with daughter Miranda (Molly Ringwald), Philip escapes to a remote Greek island with Miranda and his new mistress Aretha (Susan Sarandon), a nice Catholic girl who struggles with Philip's celibate lifestyle. Will a sudden storm bring all right in the end?
Here's a thought on the career of Cassevetes: How many other actors could make a film so confused into something so riveting? A darling of film critics for his earlier work, often with his real-life wife Rowlands, he presents a central character who really suffers for his art here, but seems to enjoy himself and makes us enjoy him, too. It's not Prospero, but something rich and strange that makes for a terrific sea change all his own.
"It's all here," he tells one of his faithful companions, Aretha's dog Nino. "Beauty, magic, inspiration, and serenity." That it is. "Tempest" transfers 1611 London to 1982 Manhattan and finds some nice resonances in Philip's displaced life. "Show me the magic", he calls out to a storm-tossed city skyscape, and Mazursky's version, augmented by Donald McAlpine's sterling cinematography of purple seascapes and naturally sun-burnished Greek landscapes, does just that.
It's not a perfect movie, by any means. In fact, the big finale, which is the only part of the movie that follows Shakespeare's storyline to any faithful extent, is a mess. Rowland's character is hard to care much for in this film, and after meeting Sarandon in all her braless glory, it's hard to understand Philip's continuing concern for his wife, let alone his left-field desire to make an unhappy "sacrifice" in order to restore the natural order of things.
But there's a lot to love about "Tempest". In addition to Cassavetes, there's Ringwald's film debut as his loyal but restless daughter, here as in the play an object of desire for the primitive rustic "Kalibanos" (Raul Julia). Ringwald here is very much the same teenaged muse of privileged adolescence that would inspire John Hughes, but with an emotional depth those later Hughes films didn't delve into. Ringwald and Julia never got any Oscar attention, but they both would win Golden Globes for their playful work here. He tries to woo her in her island isolation with his TV reruns of "Gunsmoke" in Greek, tempted by her 15-year-old body.
"I want to balonga you with my bonny johnny," Kalibanos declares, getting shoved aside but winning our sympathy anyway, especially after performing "New York, New York" with a chorus of goats. (When "Tempest" hit the screens, Julia was the toast of Broadway as the lead in "Nine".)
It's Mazursky's show, even if it feels at times that Cassavetes is running things with improvisational line readings and emotional breakdowns galore. (Philip introduces himself to Aretha by telling her "I'm right in the middle of a nervous breakdown".) He plays his character as an amiable obsessive, seeking to crystallize his happiness by building an theater in his otherwise uninhabited island.
Adding to the enjoyment is Gassman's rich performance as the other man, who is as completely amiable as Julia while telling a youth-obsessed Philip: "Boys don't have half as much fun as we have. They're nervous...and they make love in the back of an old sports car." Despite being overlong and pretentious in spots, like so many art films, "Tempest" is entertaining in its excesses and a trip very much like Shakespeare intended, even if his dreams didn't involve smoking pot backstage at a Go-Gos concert.
