Directed by Peter Greenaway
Summary: Peter Greenaway retells Shakespeare's The Tempest in a film that has a unique parallel structure: the introduction of the books is followed by episodes that fit each other thematically, and thus within the story "reality" is achieved through use of the imagination. Through dance and words Greenaway's interpretation of Shakespeare is revealed in this parallel structure. The previous Duke of Milan, Prospero, had been deposed and cast into the sea with only his baby daughter Miranda and the books that Gonzalo provided. As the years passed, Prospero lived with Miranda on an island and there schemes ways to revenge himself and restore his position. The tempest that he creates begins with A Book of Water that crashes the ship caring Alonso (King of Naples), Antonio (the usurping Duke of Milan), Ferdinand (son of Alonso), and their other members of their court.
The shelter provided for Miranda on the island is invented by A Book of Architecture and Other Music, which indicates that the sleeping Miranda lives in surroundings made by her father's magic power. Prospero's past, including the history of his deposition, is told through An Alphabetical Book inventorying the Dead. As Prospero tells the story, the responding voice, supposedly that of Miranda, is spoken by a voice that is present from the beginning of the film. That single speaking voice is the only voice present in the film until almost the end.
Caliban's presence follows A Book of the Earth, Arial Vosalius "Anatomy of Birth," and Ferdinand A Book of the Plant. A Book of Love leads to the contact between Miranda and Ferdinand. The differences between Gonzalo and Sebastian are introduced by A Book of the Past, Present, and Future Animals. In A Book of Utopias Prospero projects his ideal world. The murderous plot carried out by Stephano, Tranculo, and Caliban follows the introduction in An Ancient Criterion Handbook. Prospero's warning to Miranda and Ferdinand of the dangers of sex before marriage is presented in The Autiobiographies of Somilamius and Pasiphus. A Book of Mythologies introduces the wedding of Miranda and Ferdinand. When Prospero's plan is fulfilled through the marriage of Miranda and Ferdinand, he breaks his pen, closes the books, tosses them into the water, and returns to his Milanese dress.
From this moment on in the film other people's voices are heard. Gonzalo is repaid; Alonzo is forgiven; and Sebastian and Antonio are controlled by Prospero after he seizes their secrets. Ariel is set free, while Caliban crawls into the background screen. Among the books drowned in the sea, only two books remain safe: Shakespeare's plays. At the end of the film as Prospero delivers Shakespeare's epilogue, Prospero asks the audience to set him free.
In the plot of the film, Prospero uses his magic power gained from books to construct his imaginary reality and carry out his plans. What is seen in Prospero's construction can also be seen in Greenaway's re-invention of Shakespeare's The Tempest: naked dance, colorful scenery and dazzling music are similar to Prospero's magic which makes a land of dreams for Miranda and a veil for other characters. Prospero, Greenaway, and Shakespeare are a trinity of artists involved in creation and re-creation.
Other Reviews:
A.Vague St. Louis, Date: 22 September 1998
Summary:
A new dimension of film-making Greenaway engages the viewer like no other director. If you do not enjoy being challenged by film then not only will you dislike this and other Greenaway movies, but you will be missing out on an essential facet of film-making as an art form - with a substance and potential largely unexplored and ignored by "Hollywood" studio films. You don't have to be a Shakespeare buff to enjoy this film, but if you have read "The Tempest," then you will be enjoying this film on a level expressly reserved for you by the director. This film explores the multi-textural potential of film like no movie before it or since.
Quoted from IMDB
Summary:
The Worst Movie I Have Ever Seen In My Entire Life. Seriously. Judging by people's previous comments, maybe I simply missed something while watching "Prospero's Books".... But I have to be honest: of all the films I have ever seen in my entire life so far, this arty-farty flick by Peter Greenaway takes the award for The Most Torturous Film I Have Ever Sat Through. No joke. "Armageddon" & "Showgirls" come close, but "Prospero's Books" takes the prize. Yes, I know it's an obscure film, and there's certainly much bigger fish to fry, but no movie has ever made me cry "Uncle!" as loudly as this one. Oh, it's a good-LOOKING movie alright, but "Prospero's Books" is SO in love with it's own pretentious artiness, that it's ultra avant-garde take on Shakespeare's "The Tempest" is a disastrous mess, and it totally crashes and burns on a monumental scale. The funny thing is, I *like* Greenaway's other notorious film, "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover." That film is also way out there, but at least it had an engrossing story (in more ways than one) & some very impressive acting. I came away from "Prospero's Books" completely appalled, bewildered, dumbfounded, and not entertained in the least. Not even the attractive naked bodies on display could save this turkey for me. At least "Showgirls" was amusing. John Gielgud walks through the entire movie reciting the script of Shakespeare's "The Tempest" while being completely oblivious to the naked chorus people, who for no particular reason do jerky body movements all around him as he does his one-man show. There's also some interpretive dance, some opera singing, and a young boy on a swing pees in the swimming pool. Yeah, GREAT entertainment, this flick. The costumes are elegant, and I liked the cameo appearance by German cabaret singer Ute Lemper (of whom I'm a big fan), but not even Ute & the costumes could rise this sorry film out of pompous art-house hell. The film's over-the-top, arty-farty interpretation of Shakespeare just doesn't make any sense at all. Don't get me wrong--there ARE some good arty films out there, the kind of arty films that have some sort of *logic* to their artiness. "Prospero's Books" has NO logic. It's Shakespeare on a bad acid trip, nothing more. One can only wonder what the Bard himself would've thought of this picture, and while I can't speak for Willie himself, I'd like to think that his response to "Prospero's Books" would've been something along the lines of: "I am bewildered, and know not what to say."
Quoted from IMDB