Mapped Production’s Nova Insula, a reimagining of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, is a detailed study into the infinite possibility of words – and a surreal and thought-provoking experience.
More an art exhibition than a piece of immersive theatre, Nova Insula encourages you to draw alternative interpretations from The Tempest that deviate from its conventional narrative. It’s like stepping into a Kafkaesque dream world wherein linearity and logic are removed; the focus is not on the meaning but the feeling. If one is willing to take their time and really engage with the space, they can leave with some wonderful new ideas about text analysis and the subconscious themes of Shakespeare’s legendary play.
The basements of Putney Library is a perfect choice of venue. Its layout, with all its twist and turns, its partitioning bookshelves and deviating corridors, makes one feel as though we’re in a maze. The lighting’s cold and sparse (most of which was provided by the glow of projectors or computer screens) and the sound design is at once both frightening and mesmerising. Actors in stark white forensic outfits gently move from room to room, examining the various features of the space as if they were archaeological findings. Their silence and the fact that their faces were covered by masks made the atmosphere slightly sinister. When you enter the space, you feel excited and a little scared. That anticipation is important; it drives you to find out what lies around the corner.
Only two of the characters from the infamous text were actually portrayed by actors, but they too were silent and unaware of the audience. Others appeared in projections, voice-overs and sometimes only a few lines scrawled on a piece of paper. I first saw Prospero between two bookcases that were covered in storage crates. He was playing a game of chess with one of the faceless forensic wanderers and had his back turned to the audience. He appeared on various screens around the space which gave him an sort of omnipresence throughout the piece. Miranda stood at the end of a space between two large bookcases. It was like something out of a Japanese horror movie. She alternated between tiptoeing gently over the mirrored floor (which produced a great effect combined with the mirrored ceiling), throwing books from the shelves onto the ground and scrawling her lines from Act One, Scene II with black chalk onto a white wall. Caliban was referenced to around the entire space, but there was a room dedicated solely to some of the character’s themes. Inside the room, six small screens played (on a loop) a disturbing video of a woman struggling to stand in a mound of rubble. The voice-over and accompanying text put it to the audience that Prospero’s interaction with Caliban, as is described in Act One, Scene II, is not dissimilar to the process of imperial colonisation in lands with already established cultures.
Some of these descriptions will hopefully give you an idea of Nova Insula‘s style and method. The piece insists upon a high level of engagement with the text and imagery. Your job as an audience member is to pick up on trends, find tiny details, make comparisons and above all: ask questions. I noticed that several people breezed through the exhibit in under half an hour, where as I spent at least 75 minutes going and back and forward between the rooms. This style is certainly not for everyone. But it is undeniably inventive and a lot of precision and care has gone into making every detail of the piece meaningful and thought-provoking. For what it was, it was a masterpiece. But perhaps some aspects of Nova Insula could be developed in order to encourage greater engagement.
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