Leontes, King of Sicilia, convinces himself that his wife Hermione has committed adultery with his boyhood friend, the visiting King of Bohemia Polixenes. So blind is his rage that even the pronouncement he seeks from the Oracle at Delphi cannot convince him of Hermione's innocence. His unreasoning jealousy destroys his family. Leontes banishes his newborn daughter (Polixenes's bastard child, as he thinks), and then is told that both Hermione and his young son have died. He realizes his mistake and plunges into years of penance.
      Meanwhile his banished daughter Perdita is saved from death in Bohemia by two shepherds who bring her up as one of theirs, prospering from the gold left with the abandoned baby. A personification of Time announces that 16 years elapse. A bucolic episode ensues, the teenage Perdita being wooed by Polixenes's son Florizel, to the accompaniment of country festivities involving shepherds, shepherdesses and a passing conman Autolychus. But the merriment is cut short when Polixenes furiously discovers his son slumming it, and the couple flee to Sicilia - followed by the other main characters.
      The final section of the play brings redemption, the penitent Leontes given a chance to reforge ties of family and friendship - in seemingly miraculous fashion as far as Hermione is concerned.
      In productions such as Adrian Noble's for RSC in 1992 and (to judge by ACG's review on this site) Nick Hytner's for the NT in 2001, "Winter's Tale" can be riveting and deeply moving.
      The far-fetched storybook twists and turns of the plot may trouble some, but they befit the "Tale" of the title (Shakespeare shies away from dramatizing some of them, relying on "you should have seen it" narration).
      The main "problem" element often cited in relation to the play is the jarring difference in tone between the sections - the merry country scenes contrasting with the darker outer sections.
      Why this is perceived as a problem in itself is difficult to fathom - for instance, most multi-movement pieces of music are arranged in just such a pattern: why should it not work on stage? Often in a symphony or concerto, a dramatic, anguished first movement is followed by the relief of a scherzo or minuet (or a galumphing rustic landler in the case of Mahler or Bruckner, not far off the bucolic festivities in the central section of "Winter's Tale") with themes from the first movement coming through in altered form. We have this in the play's scherzo movement - Perdita's presence, for example, and Polixenes spoiling the party with a Leontes-like fit of blind rage at his son's rustic affair.
      And then the final movement gathers up the themes of the play as a whole and finds harmony from previous discord - the transformation of Hermione's "statue" is like a modulation into the major key to allow the piece a concluding mood of resolution, not without regret for the wasted sixteen years, but in a spirit of quiet forgiveness.
      A problem with the production currently running at the Globe is that these contrasts are tough to bring out with uniform lighting (i.e. fading daylight) and minimal scenery. It is, we are told, "an original practises production exploring clothing, music, dance and settings possible in the Globe of 1599, with a modern company of men and women players". Strictly Elizabethan costume prevails - doublet & hose etc. A table of silverware does for Leontes' Sicilian palace, four sticks of brushwood at the back for Bohemia's woods and fields. The candlelight as day turned to dusk on this June evening did allow for an atmospheric final act.
      The development of the play has to rely much more in these circumstances on the power of the text and the performances - and the company isn't quite up to the task. Too many of the actors skimmed the surface of the text, much of the poignancy of which went for naught. Paulina (Hermione's waiting woman) was given passionate voice by Penelope Beaumont, slightly melodramatic but at least the poetry came across. Other than that, it was the rustic characters who stood out. Best of all were the shepherds who find and raise Perdita - both gave touchingly downplayed comic performances, especially Sam Alexander as the Young Shepherd. Autolychus the pickpocket and tinker can be made side-splittingly funny (Richard McCabe in the 1992 RSC production was unforgettable) - here, Colin Hurley raised a smile rather than outright laughter.
      Overall the performance didn't quite catch fire. And yet the audience reaction was noisily positive, because even with the reservations expressed above, the evening is an enjoyable one. There is great pleasure to be had from being present at an "original practises production" such as this - the sense of connection with the origins of the drama, the spirited period playing of the musicians on crumhorns, hurdy-gurdies etc., the sight of the moon and Venus in the evening sky above the "round O" just as they were when Shakespeare's company spoke these lines, the interaction with the audience (perhaps there should be more of this - groundling participation much enhances proceedings). All these things combine to weave a magic that leads one to remember that a visit to the Globe is not to be judged on exactly the same grounds as a visit to the National or the RSC.
Nick Armstrong