Writer: William Shakespeare
Director: Yaël Farber
There are a number of ways that you can approach The Winter’s Tale – and what better way than to highlight 
the elements that hold a mirror up to our world today.
It’s perhaps one of Shakespeare’s lesser-known plays – it’s not appeared on the stage in Stratford since 2013, with the pandemic derailing a more recent production (which appeared on TV instead). It’s a tale of autocracy, jealousy and loss, a tragicomedy which comes full circle. Leontes, King of Sicilia, suspects his wife Hermione of infidelity with the visiting King of Bohemia, Polixenes. He has her arrested, and her newborn daughter, Perdita, is taken to Bohemia to be abandoned on a beach. Then Leontes learns that his beloved son Mamillius has died then when word reaches him that Hermione has also died, he starts to repent – but what will become of the abandoned baby Perdita?
It’s a place which will seem familiar to the world we live in in a number of ways. Leontes (an excellent Bertie Carvel) is the epitome of the autocrat. This is a man with a huge but fragile ego, who gets an idea fixed in his head and no attempt to persuade him differently will succeed – he refuses to believe his wife, his courtiers, even the Oracle, and he uses his power to achieve his will. He switches between excessive joy, beaming with delight, and weeping despair – a narcissist who expects no opposition to his whims yet is capable of showing real appreciation and pleasure if the mood takes him. Equally impressive is Madeline Appiah as Hermione, fervent in her denial of wrongdoing in sharp contrast to her earlier jokey persona, and Aïcha Kossoko (Paulina), protective of the newborn Perdita and orchestrator of the magical finale.
There’s a stand-out performance too from Trevor Fox as Autolycus/Time, who seems totally at home in a role that could almost have been made for him. Fox has stepped in a quite short notice, taking over from Kathryn Hunter who had to withdraw, yet it doesn’t show. He gives a down-to-earth version of the character, a man you could really take to as long as you kept your hand on your wallet while you were talking to him. He doesn’t appear in earnest until Act 2, just offering odd words of wisdom before that, yet he manages to create one of the more memorable characters in a relatively short time.
There’s a striking design by Soutra Gilmour, a huge globe looming over the stage throughout. It’s a cold wintry white in Sicilia, with Bohemia represented by orange. It’s not a warm orange like a pleasant summer sun though, but a hot, burning and unhealthy hue – maybe Bohemia is not the inviting place to escape to that people may think. There’s water where it doesn’t seem to fit, creating a barrier that the cast has to negotiate. The play has a running theme of flowers, harvest and the seasons, with remarks about the nature of seasonality, with the design reflecting the threat that climate change is having on the natural order of things. It gives it an unsettling feeling, echoed by the eerie music from composer Max Perryment and striking lighting effects from Tim Lutkin.
It’s a production with some fine performances and memorable moments, but for all its good points and relevance it can’t quite escape the feeling that the mystical elements – not least the final scene – seem a little too far-fetched for a modern audience.
Runs until 30 August 2025
