Blocking the geography
of an audition

Trinculo, the king’s jester, has landed alone on the island. Seeking shelter from whatever lurks here and the storm that he thinks will come again, he stumbles upon the half-man, half-monster Caliban, who lies hiding under his cloak, afraid that Trinculo is one of Prospero’s demons. This speech is particularly rich and appealing in the variety it gives the actor. Trinculo’s fears are very real (the actor shouldn’t forget this) but comic, as is his discovery of Caliban.

The keys here lie in a revelation of Trinculo’s nature: He’s a coward, but his greed quickly overcomes any terror he may feel, either of the storm or of the “monster” Caliban. He sees his fortune made – if only he can get him back, dead or alive, to England as an exotic rarity for exhibition. Trinculo has some deliciously comic turns of phrase and puns that the actor must capitalize on and make full sense of. In addition, this is a very physical piece of comedy, and the relationship between Trinculo and the “monster” under his “gaberdine” must be well worked out.

Key to the Piece: Since the actor’s only prop here is Caliban’s “cloak” (any knee-length coat or blanket will do), the key to the scene lies in carefully blocking the movements in the monologue. This includes being clear where everything that is mentioned (the cloud, the wind, the monster) is located in relation to the actor and the audience.

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Blocking

	Play:	The Tempest
	Scene:	II, 2; 18 – 40
	Character:	Trinculo
	Setting:	A desert island
	Some of Joey's acting credits include Gayev in The Cherry Orchard, Harold in Black Comedy and the Secretary of Defence, Tom Jordan, Jorgensen, and the President of the United States in The Manchurian Candidate. He has also starred in one Concordia student film called Eric and the Tree and performed as Marvin Bush in the CBC movie Bush Years.

 
Here’s neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing. I hear it sing i’th’ wind. Yon same black cloud, yon huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head. Yon same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. [Seeing Caliban] What have we here, a man or a fish? Dead or alive? – A fish, he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of not of-the-newest poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday-fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man, and his fins like arms! Warm, o’my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer. This is no fish, but an islander that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. Alas, the storm is come again. My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.