ONE of Shakespeare's last and shortest plays, The Tempest, this week has Richard Briers as Prospero at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, Guildford.

Despite spectacularly effective staging, this Theatre Royal, Plymouth, production is somehow lacking in verve.

As the spirit Ariel breathes storm winds upon the hapless mariners, the tumult is ear-splitting and even the bullying Boatswain's (Paul Benzing) loudhailer is of no avail in making the lines distinct.

This tale of shipwreck, familial double dealing, magicking and restorative love, here lacks poetry and rhythm.

The set, however, a midnight blue box, studded with squares and tiny, starlike lights, is breathtakingly effective.

The only furnishing is a ladder, a platform and a globe suspended above a floor into which circles, presumably magic, are incised.

Prospero, the erstwhile Duke of Milan, whose power was usurped by his brother Antonio (Crispin Redman in smirking neo-Nazi form), has survived the setting adrift by his enemy and hatches revenge with magic on a barren island.

His only comfort, his innocent daughter Miranda (Madeleine Worrall, all wide-eyed and lisping sweetness), encounters her destiny in the shape of the shipwrecked Prince of Naples, Ferdinand (Orlando Wells).

Throwing malodorous spanners in the works is the malevolent fish-man "moon calf" Caliban (Rory Kinnear), whose writhings and mutterings attract the attention of the "mechanicals" - in this case Trinculo and Stephano.

Darren Tunstall and Stephen Casey bring a lighthearted musical hall double- act air to the roles of Trinculo and Stephano but the "business" is overlong.

Blue-and-white faced, the elfin-featured Ben Silverstone is an ethereal and touching Ariel (whose enormous wings are missing owning to the confines of the Arnaud stage).

As the garrulous Gonzalo, William Russell has more than a passing resemblance to a Victorian politician in frock-coat and and top hat.

There's a suitably nightmarish air to the pseudo-military breeches and leather-sheathed knives and swords, against which the silver-specked simplicity of Miranda's dress emphasises neatly the difference in their worlds.

Richard Briers, ensconsed in magician's cloak and whirling his transparent magic staff, looks curiously vulnerable rather than all-powerful in his island "kingdom", despite some dramatic staging.

A final word of praise for the sweetness of the singing and the evocative score by Tom Foster-Carter.

Sandy Baker