Information on Andrea
Twitter Feed

Four Women Over Forty Take Men's Roles in the Belfast Tempest

For international women’s day, I thought I would just spend a few minutes writing about why I have cast so many women in the Belfast Tempest, being staged at T13, in the Titanic Quarter, April 20th to 23rd this year.  2016 is the Shakespeare 400th Anniversary, and scholars believe that Shakespeare was born and died on the 23rd of April, the final night of our performance, so this feels like an important landmark moment.

For the Belfast Tempest, I have cast four key men’s parts with women.  What is more, I have cast them with women over 40.  As anyone working in theatre, film or TV will know, meaningful parts for women are rarer than the same for men, and parts for women dry up over 30 years of age.  The parts I have cast with women are: Antonio, Prospero’s scheming sibling, who steals his Dukedom; King Alonso, the ruler of a nearby kingdom who assists Antonio in the usurpation but comes to regret is decision and rejoices when his son Ferdinand proposes marriage to Prospero’s daughter Miranda; Stephano, Alonso’s drunken butler; and Gonzalo, the elderly aide who assists Prospero when his Dukedom is usurped and spend most of the play either trying to cheer everyone up, or worrying about their welfare.

The Belfast Tempest is a professional production (one of seven Creative and Cultural Belfast) that sees a professional cast, from Northern Ireland and beyond, joining 230 people from across the city to create an enormous magical site-specific production down in T13 warehouse. We are playing in the round, and audiences will be invited to take their places on seats decorated as rafts and shipwrecks to see the production.  The betrothal party of Miranda and Ferdinand has been turned into a 25-minute extravaganza presented in their honour by people from across the city.  So, it is obvious right from the start this is the Belfast Tempest, using Shakespeare’s text only, but trimmed, slimmed and adapted to say something about our city.

So, back to how and why I changed those male roles to female.

I wanted something for the talented professional actresses of Belfast to get their teeth into.  But I also wanted the gender flip to make sense in terms of the play.  I believe we women aren’t served with tokenism.  We’re served when an active watchful eye is being kept on equal opportunities for us, and on the service of good art at the same time.

So, the characters in the Belfast Tempest reflect three time frames.  The time of the original Tudor push into the island of Ireland – represented by Ariel and Caliban, both servants of Prospero.  The time of Belfast maritime power and ship-building greatness, just prior to the sinking of the Titanic and the first world war.  This timeframe is represented by Prospero, his daughter Miranda and in my interpretation, his sister Antonia.  Prospero confesses that before his dukedom was taken over by his sister, he didn’t enjoy ruling saying and put his sibling in charge:

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated to closeness and the bettering of my mind… in my false [sister] awaked an evil nature… [she] did believe she was indeed the duke;

…Me, poor man, my library was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties [she] thinks me now incapable;

And I thought: ‘can you blame her’?  Seriously though, the rise of the suffragette movement in this period, the fight for changes to the laws to allow women the vote, as well as more autonomy and more legal rights, and the resistance these women faced, give me a very good reason to make Antonio into Antonia, and to cast the talented and redoubtable Jo Donnelly in the part.

Queen Alonsa, Stephana and Gonzala belong to the third time frame represented in the Belfast Tempest: modern times.  These characters are blown onto the island by the magical Tempest that Prospero creates, they are quite literally ‘the blow ins’ new arrivals from outside Northern Ireland, and they represent everything that Prospero hates, everything that he perceives have robbed him of his power.  They are not evil characters, they are fully rounded human beings: generous, selfish, petulant, kind, loyal, disloyal, regal or ludicrous, hopeful or despairing at different times during their journey.

I wanted this cast of characters to look and sound different: by their voices, race, dress and characters to represent all of us who, while born elsewhere, have settled in Belfast.

Nicola Gardner is an experienced and highly professional black actress from Manchester. I have grown up around black women of power and distinction and I immediately envisaged Queen Alonsa as one.  Nicola seemed like perfect casting.  Her drunken butler Stephano became, her drunken PA Stephana, and wonderful comedy character with more than a dash of AbFab about her.  Who better to pull that off then my long-time friend and artistic collaborator Nuala McKeever?  The fact that Nuala’s ear for accents allows her to nail the part of a white character who is not from Northern Ireland was a must.

I can’t reveal who is playing Gonzala because she has not accepted the role yet, but with several powerful women performers over 40 in Terra Nova’s community programme, I am spoilt for choice.

The decision ‘mess with Shakespeare’ as some might say, wasn’t taken lightly, or disrespectfully, but as part of carefully thought out reinterpretation of the play for Northern Ireland in 2016.  As Simon Russell Beale said to the Guardian (15.02.15):

Shakespeare is “big enough” to withstand having scenes cut and lines transposed or obsolete words changed for the sake of clarity. “You can do what you like with it as long as you make coherent, emotional sense.  I see absolutely no problem in throwing Shakespeare around.  The texts will, hopefully, always be there.”

Personally, I like to think that man who created Rosalind, and Cleopatra, and Gertrude and Juliet won’t mind strong women enjoying themselves getting their teeth into his language and his characters in the Belfast Tempest.

The Belfast Tempest is performed April 20th to 23rd at T13.  Tickets are currently on sale at and – to find out more go to

Andrea Montgomery

8th March, 2016


"Flegs" In East Belfast

On Tuesday flags, or should I say 'flegs', went up in East Belfast.  Not on my street, but within sight of my house.  The flegs commemorate the founding of the UVF (Ulster Volunteer Force) in 1913 - many of whom went on to die in the Somme.  About sixty years later the UVF name and its symbols were taken over by a group responsible for the death of many hundreds of people during the 'Troubles'. As were several other groups, too.

Some, but not all, of the men putting up the flegs wore masks.  The flegs are unofficial but hundreds of them have gone up. An official parade is taking place next Sunday to commemorate the founding of the origional 1913 UVF and the flegs line the parade route.

On Tuesday, as we drove past, the expressions on the faces of the men putting up the flegs made me pretty uncomfortable, and I thought: 'what is the outcome you most heartily desire? And if you got that, what would you do next? And then what would you do after that?'

My husband feels it is futile and dangerous to talk to anyone about the flegs. I'm not sure.

Oh, my feelings are complicated.


Bulbs and Sausages and a little bit of limping.

We've had a rough time of it in the last fortnight, in our house. 

Two weeks ago my mother slipped and broke her leg on an ice-covered Toronto sidewalk, and last weekend my husband's mother had a mild heart attack. Add to that a terrible hacking job that destroyed my computer, friends who were defrauded of funds, transatlantic blizzards, lost luggage, hail, head colds, a favourite hat that blew into the Lagan and yesterday, a cat who made her feeling known by pooing all over the dining room cushions.  I knew the world was against me, and nothing would ever be good again.

Then today one mother announced she was throwing away the walker.  'Time for constructive limping' she said, down the transatlantic line. The other mother was discharged safely.  

My husband Anthony made it back to Belfast after four days away. 

The sun shone. Together Anthony and I walked out to the neighbourhood butcher for some sausages. Anthony's hand was warm in mine.  Back at our own front door I noticed the bulbs were up for spring.


The Changing Composition of Northern Ireland

Information about the NI 2011 census has just been published.  Here is the BBC article.  Interesting to know that there are now 202000 of us who were born outside Northern Ireland.


Watching the City Change In Real Time

Last night I was out at the Mac, and the show over, I was unlocking my bicycle when I heard voices behind me and I couldn't resist eavesdropping.  Seven or eight beautifully groomed, expensive people in well-tended middle age came strolling down the pavement like gazelles. I peeked round.  They were looking at the Art College with the air of tourists examining a indigenous grass hut.  Charmed.  Intrigued. Heads held, just so, slightly to one side.

Man 1: I think it might be what they call 'The Beat'?

Man 2: No it's 'Jordanstown'.  The University of Ulster. That's what they call Jordanstown.

Woman 1:  Look at the glass.  Is it the new campus?  They've built a new campus...

They all looked around, at the Cathedral, at the Potted Hen, at the Parking Lot, and nodded sagely, agreeing yes, these must all be evidence of the 'new campus'.

Man 2: This is the new district. The 'MIC' is here too.

Man 1 (pointing at me, whispering, but not quite quietly enough, in the manner of someone who doesn't really expect the natives to speak English): Cyclist.

Woman 1 (channelling Margaret Mead and nodding): Bohemian.

And with that they were off down the street.  Moving slowly due to the women's skyscraper heels, looking expensive, filling up the whole street as they oozed up towards the Black Box, glancing down towards Oh Yeah, pointing and gazing around in wonder and the sort of anthropological intrigue usually fostered by the guides working with high-end cruise ship passengers.

And I remembered when I used to live at Elephant & Castle in London, in the days when no one dared use the Southbank walk but the residents and the artists who had studios in the area... and maybe the actors working at the newly opened Globe... and the brave diners who made their way to the Oxo building the same way Nick's Warehouse patrons have done here for years.  How in those days we could wander around Borough Market and actually buy food.

And then one day, suddenly, the Southbank walk was crowded, and we couldn't get our bicycles through the crowds; who also blocked the way as they gazed around.  It was something about the Globe, and the Market and the Tate Modern, and the Wheel all coming together and we watched it happen in front of our eyes.

And last night I thought 'oh yes, here we go again.'

Now of course I know, we've all been working to get the Cathedral Quarter up and running for years. Championing the Circus School, and Oh Yeah and the Black Box, the CQAF, the Festival of Fools, Out to Lunch. Yes, Nick's Warehouse's brave diners have beaten a path to his door for decades. I remember the buzz of the first Culture Night and music week, and the amazement of seeing all those people, but what I was watching last night was different.  There wasn't any special reason for those people to be there. No festival, no event.

It was the arrival of a different tribe.  And I was watching the change in real time, right in front of me.