The Tempest

Twelve years ago Prospero, the rightful Duke of Milan, was cast adrift with his infant daughter. Now his enemies’ ship sails within reach of the island where he has learned to command the weather itself — and he raises a storm.

Okonjo’s production begins in the dark, with the audience inside the shipwreck: rain falls on the forestage, the rigging creaks over the stalls and Ana Ruiz’s cello becomes the voice of the sea. As the spell unwinds, the stage slowly dries and empties until only a man, his books and a choice remain.

Shakespeare’s last solo play is a farewell to magic and to theatre itself. It is also, as Okafor says, “a play about the hardest thing any of us do — forgiving the people who hurt us.”