Let’s get a few things out of the way first; Asia Osborne’s ‘Tempest’ is the best show I have seen in my time at Oxford, and you should, without a doubt, book a ticket to see it this instant. If there are empty seats at the remaining performances, as there were the night I went, it would be a horrific shame;  there is too much talent, too much glorious invention, too much professionalism and too much sheer entertainment for this to be missed. From the majestic opening sequence, a tour-de-force of physical theatre, to a heartrending epilogue, this has to be seen.

If you’ve spent any time in Oxford drama, you will know the terrible reputation of The Moser, but Osborne utterly transforms it, with white sheeting enveloping the acting space. But of far more import to this transformation are Joe Wass’ utterly beautiful lighting, excellent use of sound and music throughout, and, most significantly, the five actors (Sam Bright, Joe Eyre, El Rushton, Harry Creelman, and Frances Rose) playing Ariel. Dressed all in white, blending into their surroundings and becoming a part of the island itself, the quintet take us from a slightly dingy squashcourt to a terrifying domain of magic and illusion.

Absolutely key is the Ariels’ relationship with Prospero, played in outstanding manner by Jacob Lloyd. Lloyd somehow has the maturity to inhabit a frail, insecure yet incredibly powerful old man: student actors in their early twenties simply shouldn’t be capable of this. He manages the famous moments (‘I’ll drown my book’ and the epilogue, ‘Now my charms are all o’erthrown’) with all the power one expects from an excellent performer, but it is in his detail from second to second that he really excels. Plagued by insecurity, he clings to the control given him by his magic, and the dichotomy between fragile father and powerful conjurer gives him an extraordinary range.

The Ariels remain on stage throughout, a part of the scenery, and a constant reminder of the menace of the island, and Prospero’s hold on the action of the play. However, the power balance between master and servant is nowhere near clear-cut, and at times the spirits threaten to mob their lord; it is only Prospero’s threats, stories of Sycorax, the former inhabitant of the island, and Lloyd’s natural stage presence which hold them off. This plays particularly well off Lloyd’s rendering of Prospero’s insecurities, and is genuinely threatening; the only downside is that occasionally his lines are lost in the clamour of his five servants, and as an audience member I was desperate to hear them.

Lindsay Dukes is an excellent Miranda: as she witnesses the opening storm, she transforms what could be merely a well-put-together spectacle into an emotionally engaging piece of art. Later, full of naivety, she discovers the ‘brave new world’ of Ed Chalk’s Ferdinand in a touching and comic manner as they mirror each others footsteps in a moment of genius. Chalk is evidently having fun in a fine performance, his young prince a touch more lecherous than is normal; he is at times guilty of playing subtext, but this may be an issue more with Osborne’s reinterpretation of the relationship. Here, Ferdinand takes advantage of Miranda’s inexperience, at first cautiously, then, eventually in a horrifyingly violent manner. At times this works spectacularly, such that one makes allowances for the brief moments in which the take jars slightly (such as Miranda’s line ‘Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle/And I would call it fair play’). The reading is probably the only contentious issue in the play; if you run with it, you run with it, and if you don’t, you don’t. My advice is to go with it, because the acting is so fine that it’s a shame to question too far; the moment Lloyd cedes Miranda to Sebastian, with ‘She’s thine own’, is genuinely heartbreaking.

Stephano and Trinculo (Chris Thursten and Jon Head) make an excellent double act, and manage the traditional slapstick humour of the discovery of Caliban very nicely and inventively. Their only crime is perhaps going for a few laughs too many, but I suspect that a full house would have indulged them. Hansel Tan’s Caliban is at times a bit stagey, and a bit stylised, but he is, after all, playing a monster; it’s a hard part to pull off, and if Tan doesn’t always manage it, he certainly has some excellent moments. The three are privy to one wonderful moment, with the cloaks taken from Prospero’s cell played by the Ariels, who tighten their grip round the pretenders’ necks; every second of the subplot’s narrative, down to the costuming itself, is carefully stage-managed by the sorcerer.

Yes, there are moments that don’t always work. These tend to be focussed around inadequacies in the script; Prospero and Miranda’s opening scene, one brilliant moment of wrestling for control aside, is fairly dull exposition, not helped by Lloyd occasionally rushing his lines to the point that we can’t hear him, as if aware that it’s not a scene to linger on. Similarly, the subplot featuring Alonso, Antonio, Sebastian and Gonzalo doesn’t quite keep the audience in thrall; this is little to do with the actors, with Adam Baghdadi and Preston Witt giving fine performances, and Omar El-Okdah in particular rescuing Antonio from cartoon villainy by dint of his excellent detail, but it tends to be in the interruptions of the Ariels that the scenes really excel. Benedict Dent-Pooley occasionally has trouble with Gonzalo, especially with his lengthy speech based on Montaigne’s images of utopia, but it’s not like his is a thrilling character.

It is hard to get away from the Ariels; their speech after the banquet, opening ‘You are three men of sin’, is truly chilling, if occasionally difficult to hear given the five talking in tandem. It is Osborne’s ability to find the spirits’ presence in the text that really takes the play to another level; the moments in which they put Miranda, Alonso and Gonzalo to sleep are magnificent examples of her eye for invention, as is their presence as the tree Ferdinand is forced to fell, their re-animation forging a Sisyphean task for him. My own personal favourite was their stage-managing of the fight between Stephano and Trinculo, a wonderful moment in which the illusory magic of their master and the similarly illusory magic of theatre were beautifully synthesised. Together with Lloyd’s astounding Prospero, they anchor the show, and, make it something absolutely remarkable; if you ever see a play in Oxford, make it this one.