User reviews

I was absolutely in awe the first time I saw this film, but haven't really been able to sit through it again (its mainly the shoddy VHS I own), but I plan to give it the time it deserves. First off, I love Shakespeare, and I knew the Tempest fairly well before seeing this. I can imagine enjoying it fresh, but honestly, its main pts are for those familiar with the play. That said, Greenway has created a grand piece of artwork with this film. I love plot, I miss it often (and its often missing these days), but I equally enjoy works that don't use it or go beyond it. The visuals are lush, and Michael Nyman's score is fantastic...Prospero's Books is more experience than story, like a painting or a song.

Understandbly, Greenway is one of those filmmakers whose audience should be prepared for something different than the regular fare. I have a feeling my own attachment to the source material may be casting the film more glowingly than it deserves. The play has its flaws too, but for someone who takes the time it certainly rewards you well.

I'll comment on the nudity, very briefly. Sex, sensuality, and natural forms are three things that can be very differently perceived, and Prospero's Books deals with it in an adult (as in mature) manner, come that way and you'll be fine.

Whatever else you might say about Prospero's Books, it is certainly original. Despite its being based on the Shakespeare play "The Tempest".

Like the play, the movie posits some kind of unnatural or supernatural power residing in the books in question; but the movie takes a stab at just what these books might have contained, and so considers them more as books in the traditional sense--as founts of knowledge that can impart, to the capable reader, newfound powers--than as what they represent in the plays, a repository for magical spells.

Thus it is postulated that in addition to their use in prayer and for amusement, books may yield powers of an immediate kind--powers beyond those available through the knowledge of oral traditions, say. This can perhaps be construed as a schema for science fiction; but such an interpretation is new with Greenaway's work.

I found the ubiquitous nudity distracting for the first ten or fifteen minutes, but quickly became used to it. It is effective in creating an atmosphere--indeed, as an Edinburgh Film Society review notes, "the sheer volume of naked flesh on display is almost surreal." I think it was surreal; I think that was the point, in part at least. To characterize this as pornography is to be terminally clueless.

The other common complaint about this film, that it is pretentious, will depend entirely on whether you think it has been successful in giving us a remarkably fresh reinterpretation of Shakespeare. I think it has been, though the last half-hour dragged a bit.

John Gielgud plays ex-Duke Prospero in Peter Greenaway's version of Shakespeare's The Tempest, stuck on an island with sprite, Ariel, monster servant Caliban and his beloved daughter Miranda, who falls in love with Prospero's enemy's son Ferdinand.

By and large, you either love or hate Greenaway who, as on this occasion, devotes his time to the film's visuals, somewhat at the expense of the emotions that the tale should bring. If you accept this though it is a rare treat. Greenaway's design for every second of this unique film experience is full of dance, colour, striking architecture, cinematic tricks and wonderfully choreographed movement (and an awful lot of nudity) topped off by Michael Nyman's music. It has oft been said that Greenway's films are like watching a moving renaissance painting and this is particularly the case here. Startling production to look at, if possibly a bit hard work at times.

Shakespeare is without peer, the man of whom Harold Bloom said he invented humanity. `The Tempest' is his richest and essentially his last play, clearly about himself and his career. John Gielgud is the finest Shakespearean actor of our age. Greenaway is the most creative, lush and introspective filmmaker working.

This film is important.

I've already had one comment some time back. But on reviewing, there are two things I'd like to point you to when you see it.

Prospero is based on Shakespeare himself of course, but also on Thomas Harriot, who was a Kabbalist. Harriot had led a mission to the new world in 1585, where he wintered over with Algonquian priests. He came back convinced of having discovered a new cosmology which he never published (because of continuing trials for heresy). But he did share with Galileo, Kepler and Descartes.

Shakespeare satirized Harriot in `Love's Labors Lost' as Holofernes, because Harriot was then allied with an opposing clique (including rival poet Marlowe). But they became close as events unfolded.

The first point is to look for Thomas Harriot's only published work, about his trip to Virginia. It is the Book of Utopias, with the paintings by artist John White. Just after that the sprites act out the Indian magical circle described by Harriot.

Second: Harriot's Kabbalah is based on 21 paths that the magician can open, and one that opens automatically as part of the game of life. Here, Greenaway has Prospero open the 21 books in weaving his magic. When he closes them, the spell recedes. The 22nd is the Book of Games, which the lovers open and close. Kabbalah provides for two `invisible' paths for creating magical artifacts. This we have in the Folio and The Tempest, numbers 23 and 24.

Gielgud suggested the collaboration, and we suppose the scholarship was a joint project. But this is deep work indeed, the only production I know that understood what the play is all about.

Greenaway says: "Theres a project, I'd like very much to do, called Prospero's Creatures' about what happened before the beginning. Sort of a prelude to The Tempest. And I've also written a play called Miranda, about what happens afterwards on the ship on the way home. It's about what happens to innocence and how it has to be destroyed."

We can only hope.

Imagine if William Shakespeare, Leonardi DaVinci, Sigmond Freud, and Jean Luc Goddard all met in a dark alley, got drunk together, and made a film. If you could image the result, you would then get an idea of what this movie is about.

Told with the help multiple on-screen images and the strength of Sir John Guilgud narration and acting skills, Greenaway brings a new face to Shakespeare's "The Tempest." This film is innovative, sensual, and challenging as Shakespeare intended.

I would warn that this film sparks a cast of about 100+ naked people. Although it is nudity used in the best taste possible, this is not a film to be showing to the High School English class.

Prospero's Books (1991) Director Peter Greenaway seems to be an inspiring Fellini. The problem with making that comparison is that, regardless of whether you like this sort of film or not, Peter Greenaway does rings around Fellini. "Oh, brave new world." This is much better than an adaptation with men in business suits. This film has people in birthday suits and the odd costumes work as if in a dream. Still, as with many secondary interpretations, it is interesting, but it is the original that gives any value.

It is good the DVD has a Pause button as the credits go by quickly. Based on "The Tempest" (published in 1623 however written around 1611) uses most of the original script but applies the information we all want to know about the contents of "Prospero's Books." I keep an empty shelf in the library waiting for my copy of the 24 books of great knowledge and magic.

"Prospero, once the Duke of Malan, now reigns over a faraway island, living with his only daughter, Miranda. 12 years earlier Prospero's brother, in league with the King of Naples, had exiled Prospero and his daughter to their new home.

One evening, Prospero imagines creating a storm powerful enough to bring his old enemies to his island. He begins to write a play about the Tempest, speaking aloud the lines of each of his characters. In this story of Prospero's past and his revenge..."

John Gielgud gets to make the ending speech addressing the audience and just for a minute none of the exotic trappings except for an echo.

I suggest that this is not your first encounter with "The Tempest."

. . . it's a pity the aesthetic choice was made to *not* tell the story.

That's my take-away from last night's viewing, my first since the film's theatrical release some 25 years ago. If you know Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' you'll fill in the narrative; if not, you'll have a splendid two-hour hallucination.

But 'Prospero's Books' is the 800-pound gorilla of art films. Nothing like it before or since. F'ing glorious pile of exquisity.

After Peter Greenaway's stunning vision, Michael Clark's Caliban is the star, along with the naked human body in all sizes, shapes and ages -- by the army-full, non-eroticized -- marginalia etchings come to life, caryatids, collossi, etc.

Gielgud's celebrated voice murmurs most of the lines, but only somebody who didn't see it to the end (or parroting somebody who didn't) will make the false claim that no actor but Gielgud speaks. The sound is beautifully engineered, vocals and music.

First of all you should know that this high art. Do not watch this while eating a chinese on a Saturday night. It requires a certain frame of mind and much concentration and deliberation. You need to be familiar with The Tempest before watching this. However, I am very sensitive to art which is pretentious and somehow this doesn't fell pretentious at all. Because you can feel the director's and the cast's (John Gielgud etc) passion for the source material. I particularly am a fan of Michael Nyman and it his eerie but extremely emotive minimalist score which carries the whole momentum of this film. It is simply a series of images (some moving, some more static like literal paintings or sculptures) put together to create a series of feelings and emotions which are inspired by the character of Prospero and the experience he goes through during the course of The Tempest. I do think it probably works better in concept than in practice, but there were moments of real intrigue and impressiveness and of feeling moved. A totally unique film I can't think of any others like it.

Peter Greenaway has given us a visual cinematic treat. This dazzling blend of technology, allegory and imagination is a multi-layered treat for those who seek the art that video and the digital world promise. Watch this movie on video to properly savour the intelligence and artistic genius that guides this visual delight.

Do not expect rationality or straight-line logic. Rather, enjoy this as a unique and idiosyncratic artistic cinematic vision. Pure cinema. All you need to know is the basic story of "The Tempest". Shakespeare. I am sure, would have understood what Peter Greenaway was about in providing such entertainment for a 20th century audience.

Prospero's Books (1991) was directed by Peter Greenaway. William Shakespeare is also given credit as a writer (play), because Shakespeare wrote "The Tempest." However, the movie is really Greenaway's concept of "The Tempest," not Shakespeare's concept. People have said, "Don't see this film unless you know the story of 'The Tempest'." True enough, because if the only thing you learn about "The Tempest" comes from Greenaway, you'll never want to see Shakespeare's play.

The basic plot of the play is that the Duke of Milan (Prospero) and his daughter are marooned on an island. They get a chance for revenge when the people who forced them from Milan arrive on the island.

Prospero has studied the occult, and he has a book of magic from which he has learned to be a powerful wizard. However, Shakespeare mentions that Prospero has other books with him on the island. Greenaway's concept is to present the story by telling us about each book in turn.

Not a bad concept, when you think about it. However, the whole thing turns sour once Greenaway gets going. There are endless scenes of naked or near-naked men and women wandering around, dancing (sort of), and looking like they belong somewhere else. (It's a deserted island, don't forget.) You'd think that all this would be erotically charged, but it isn't. It just looks like a confusing underground nudist colony.

Shakespeare's "pure spirit" named Ariel is played by four different actors, one of whom sings, one of whom pees, and so forth.

John Gielgud, one of the great Shakespearean actors of the 20th Century, plays Prospero. I would love to have seen Gielgud as Prospero in "The Tempest." What he's doing in this movie is beyond me.

I can enjoy creative, cutting-edge versions of Shakespeare's plays. Some of them work, some of them don't. This one didn't work. I saw the film as part of an honors seminar I audited called "Shakespeare on Film." The college students with whom I saw the film also found the nudity boring.

The film was shown on a "classroom-sized" large screen. It will be just as unsatisfying on DVD.

"Sir" John Gielgud must have become senile to star in a mess of a movie like this one.;

This is one of those films, I suppose, that is considered "art," but don't be fooled.....it's garbage. Stick to the "art" you can admire in a frame because the films that are labeled as such are usually unintelligible forgeries like this.

In this masterpiece, Giegud recites Shakespeare's "The Tempest" while the camera pans away to nude people. one of them a little kid urinating in a swimming pool. Wow, this is heady stuff and real "art," ain't it?? That's just one example. Most of the story makes no sense, is impossible to follow and, hence, is one that Liberal critics are afraid to say they didn't "understand" so they give it high marks to save their phony egos. You want Shakespeare? Read his books.

The film opens with a cornucopia of fascinating images, including many naked bodies. The are a lot of nude bodies on show in this film. Some swimming underwater, some prancing around liberally. Sir John Gielgud is the prominent figure and voice of the film. He tells us all about the books, and his daughter on an island where they both are located. The story isn't going to entrap many viewers, but the look of it all really needs to be watched. Greenaway opens image after image in the centre of each frame, and large books are opened. The front of a woman's body is removed to reveal all her internal organs. It really deserves to be seen just to look at it all. This film is very appealing to the eye.

An imaginative telling of Shakespeare's "The Tempest". However, that's one of the few good things I can say about it: it is inane, gratuitous and pretentious.

Very little makes sense, even at the most basic of levels. Most scenes just seem to be excuses to have hordes of people, men and women, run around naked. Critics will call that bold, I call it gratuitous and meaningless.

Performances are hard to judge, as it is difficult to look past the meaningless, random plot. John Gielgud provides gravitas in the lead role, but his voice seems to drone on after a while and get quite irritating. Nobody else is worth a mention.

If you're looking for a good version of The Tempest, this is not it.

This is Peter Greenaway's most humane and enthralling feature, a visual tour-de-force which re-interprets Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' through the books of magic with which Prospero creates his realm. Sir John Gielgud gives a moving, heartfelt farewell performance in the title role, Michael Clarke is a sinuous, demonic Caliban, and Michael Nyman's score is fittingly triumphant. One sequence - the Masque - even turns the film into an opera.

Although the visuals are overloaded to a level of decadence rarely seen on film, it is always with a purpose. One quibble; Prospero's overlaying of his own voice on the characters makes some of the dialogue difficult to follow, especially if you are unfamiliar with the source material. The film demands to be seen on a wide screen.

When I return to this film, I always remember Nietzsche's writings concerning "words and music". According to him, it's impossible to listen the lyric of the ninth symphony of Beethoven, so overwhelmed we are with the music itself. In part, this happens with this "Prospero's Books". Ever single plan is a beautiful painting in movement. In here, images assume the same centrality that is played by the music in Beethoven's ninth. We become so powerfully taken by this frames that we forget the plot. To some viewers, this could be felt like a sin. For me, is pure poetry. In Nietzsche's words, is Dionysius beating Apollo (although for the German philosopher, images are always by the side of Apollo), it's our innermost self's taking advantage of us. In poetry, not always a story is important. After all, don't we have very recently one cry of pure beauty with that `a-narrative' film that is `Lost in translation'?

An exiled magician finds an opportunity for revenge against his enemies muted when his daughter and the son of his chief enemy fall in love in this uniquely structured retelling of "The Tempest".

I am not sure how much this relies on or strays from "The Tempest", because frankly it is not a play I am terribly familiar with. That probably hinders my ability to critique this film. I suspect the original is not written with pervasive nudity in mind, which I found interesting (and not the least bit distracting).

The version I watched was on DVD, but was clearly an awful transfer, possibly from a VHS tape. That is a shame, because the visuals seemed stunning, yet blurred. A better transfer might make me rethink the film ,and probably bump it up a notch or two.

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.

Three exceptional features of this interpretation of Shakespeare's the Tempest which can be seen in Prosperos Books are as follows :

(1) John Gielgud playing the part of Prospero relishes the language of Shakespeare's text. This is demonstrated at the outset with the repeated use of the word Boatswain.There are many other examples and these are often linked to the text being written down on paper by quill pen;

(2) The visual feast is truly spectacular. When Miranda and Ferdinand first meet against the background of a pastoral landscape that includes a cornfield and architectural features including a pyramid on a bright Summers day. What an exquisitely beautiful setting for a young couple to meet and fall in love.

(3) The music is sublime and so powerful . The singing of Juno, Ceres and Iris is exceptional. One tip I would make is to have the text of the songs from a book of the play to hand. This enhances appreciation of the music and words of the songs.

Thankfully this film can be seen on DVD. Sadly no English subtitles.

Though I thought Shakespeare's play 'The Tempest' was crap, this film adaptation is even worse. I mean, if I hadn't have read the play beforehand, I don't think I would have known what was going on half the time. This film, though very artistic (the 6 out of the 6/10 I gave it is for the artistry) shows a complete lack of Shakespeare. Greenaway should have just changed the names and the plot a little and made his own film instead of calling it an adaptation of 'The Tempest'. It's also too much of a romp in the land of (sexual) fantasy to be taken completely seriously. Creative, but no banana.

I came at this film with high expectations. I was aware of Greenaway's work and 'The Tempest' and was interested in an adaptation. I first wanted to switch off after ten minutes, but felt that it would be unfair. There was a representation of a storm, but where in your mind do you conceive a small boy peeing over a toy boat? It is symbolic of what? I continued another ten minutes my finger twitching over the 'off' button, somewhere something would capture my interest. This is not Shakespeare, it is not cinema. There is a time and place for it, but I will not waste my time and there is no place for it in my studies of Shakespeare. After twenty five minutes I gave up and that was the end. I then read all the comments on this website and the pretentiousness of the film is only matched by its defendants. 'Its a painting.....then put it in a gallery', 'it's a ballet.....keep it on the stage then'. Shakespeare can be done intelligently, and the plays were performed to mass audiences, they were accessible, and this version helps put a wedge between Shakespeare and the general population at large - and I do not think that the Bard would be happy with that.

this is a visually spectacular masterpiece,but i beg to ask the question is there any possibility of taking the term art house to an extreme and then redecorating the art house once more in extravagant and even decadent/opulent stylings.the great and extremely talented mister peter greenaway is doubtless to say in my mind a true and very talented genius un surpassed in his film-making techniques, however i must ask ???????????? what the hell is going on inside that mind...... (those toys where does he get those wonderful toys?) probably not one for those of us who are not pseudo intellectuals or rabid l.s.d freaks............

I saw this movie when it was released, and my distaste for it has stuck with me all these years.

Here's why:

Greenaway's goal seems to be to take every literary image in the Tempest and make it literal. If a character were to say, "my heart takes flight," we'd be shown an actual human heart, with pigeon wings attached, flapping across the screen.

This process makes for some lush tableaux, but ultimately it's a facile exercise. And it becomes deadly boring.

I don't begrudge the pleasure other viewers found in this movie, but it's worth knowing that not everyone in the audience was enraptured.