Back More
Salem Press

Table of Contents

Critical Survey of Shakespeare: Film Adaptations

Winter’s Tale

by Kenneth John Atchity

Type of plot: Romance or tragicomedy

Time of plot: The legendary past

Locale: Sicilia and Bohemia

First performed: 1610–11; first published, 1623

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

Leontes, the King of Sicilia

Hermione, his queen

Polixenes, the King of Bohemia

Camillo, Leontes’s counselor

Perdita, Leontes’s daughter

Florizel, Polixenes’s son

Paulina, Hermione’s maid

Autolycus, a rogue

THE STORY

Polixenes, the King of Bohemia, was the guest of Leontes, the King of Sicilia. The two men had been friends since boyhood, and there was much celebrating and joyousness during the visit. At last Polixenes decided that he must return to his home country. Leontes urged him to extend his visit, but Polixenes refused, saying that he had not seen his young son for a long time. Then Leontes asked Hermione, his wife, to try to persuade Polixenes to remain. When Polixenes finally yielded to her pleas, Leontes became suspicious and concluded that Hermione and Polixenes must be lovers and that he had been cuckolded.

Leontes was generally of a jealous disposition, and he sought constant reassurance that his son Mamillius was his own offspring. Having now, out of jealousy, misjudged his wife and his old friend, Leontes became so angry that he ordered Camillo, his chief counselor, to poison Polixenes. All Camillo’s attempts to dissuade Leontes from his scheme only strengthened the jealous man’s feelings of hate. Nothing could persuade the king that Hermione was true to him. Eventually Camillo agreed to poison Polixenes, but only on condition that Leontes return to Hermione with no more distrust.

Polixenes had noticed a change in Leontes’s attitude toward him. When he questioned Camillo, the sympathetic lord revealed the plot to poison him. Together, they hastily embarked for Bohemia.

Upon learning that Polixenes and Camillo had fled, Leontes was more than ever convinced that his guest and his wife had been guilty of carrying on an affair. He conjectured that Polixenes and Camillo had been plotting together all the while and planning his murder. Moreover, he decided that Hermione. who was pregnant, was in all likelihood bearing Polixenes’s child and not his. Publicly he accused Hermione of adultery and commanded that her son be taken from her. She herself was imprisoned. Although his servants protested the order, Leontes was adamant.

In prison, Hermione gave birth to a baby girl. Paulina, her attendant, thought that the sight of the baby girl might cause Leontes to relent, so she carried the child to the palace. Instead of forgiving his wife, Leontes became more incensed and demanded that the child be put to death. He instructed Antigonus, Paulina’s husband, to take the baby to a far-off desert shore and there abandon it. Although the lord pleaded to be released from this cruel command, he was forced to put out to sea for the purpose of leaving the child to perish on some lonely coast.

Leontes had sent two messengers to consult the Oracle of Delphi to determine Hermione’s guilt. When the men returned, Leontes summoned his wife and the whole court to hear the verdict. The messengers read a scroll that stated that Hermione was innocent, as were Polixenes and Camillo, that Leontes was a tyrant, and that he would live without an heir until that which was lost was found.

The king, refusing to believe the oracle, declared its findings false, and again accused Hermione of infidelity. In the midst of his tirade a servant rushed in to say that young Mamillius had died because of sorrow and anxiety over his mother’s plight. On hearing this, Hermione fell into a swoon and was carried to her chambers. Soon afterward, Paulina returned to announce that her mistress was dead. At this news Leontes, who had already begun to believe the oracle after news of his son’s death, beat his breast with rage at himself. He reproached himself bitterly for the insane jealousy that had led to these unhappy events. In repentance, the king swore that he would have the legend of the deaths of his son and wife engraved on their tombstones and that he himself would do penance thereafter.

Meanwhile, Antigonus had taken the baby girl to a desert country near the sea. Heartsick at having to abandon her, the old courtier laid a bag of gold and jewels by her with instructions that she should be called Perdita, a name revealed to him in a dream. After he had done this, he was attacked and killed by a bear. Later, his ship was wrecked in a storm and all hands were lost. Although no news of the expedition reached Sicilia, the kind shepherd who found Perdita also saw the deaths of Antigonus and his men.

Sixteen years passed, bringing with them many changes. Leontes was a broken man, grieving alone in his palace. Perdita had grown into a beautiful and charming young woman under the care of the shepherd. So lovely was she that Prince Florizel, the son of Polixenes and heir to the throne of Bohemia, had fallen madly in love with her.

Unaware of the girl’s background, and knowing only that his son was in love with a young shepherdess, Polixenes and Camillo, now his most trusted servant, disguised themselves and visited a sheep-shearing festival, where they saw Florizel, dressed as a shepherd, dancing with a lovely young woman. Although he realized that the shepherdess was of noble bearing, Polixenes in great rage forbade his son to marry her. Florizel thereupon made secret plans to elope with Perdita to a foreign country. Camillo. pitying the young couple, advised Florizel to embark for Sicilia and to pretend that he was a messenger of goodwill from the King of Bohemia. Camillo supplied the young man with letters of introduction to Leontes. It was part of Camillo’s plan to inform Polixenes of the lovers’ escape and travel to Sicilia to find them, thus taking advantage of the situation to return home once more.

The poor shepherd, frightened by the king’s wrath, decided to tell Polixenes how, years before, he had found the baby and a bag of gold and jewels by her side. Fate intervened, however, and the shepherd was intercepted by the rogue Autolycus and put aboard the ship sailing to Sicilia.

Soon Florizel and Perdita arrived in Sicilia, followed by Polixenes and Camillo. When the old shepherd heard how Leontes had lost a daughter, he described the finding of Perdita. Leontes, convinced that Perdita was his own abandoned infant, was joyfully reunited with his daughter. When he heard this, Polixenes immediately gave his consent to the marriage of Florizel and Perdita. The only sorrowful circumstance to mar the happiness of all concerned was the earlier tragic death of Hermione.

One day, Paulina asked Leontes to visit a newly erected statue of the dead woman in Hermione’s chapel. Leontes, ever faithful to the memory of his dead wife—even to the point of promising Paulina never to marry again—gathered his guests and took them to view the statue. Standing in the chapel, amazed at the wonderful lifelike quality of the work, they heard strains of soft music. Suddenly the statue descended from its pedestal and was revealed as the living Hermione. She had spent the sixteen years in seclusion while awaiting some word of her daughter. The happy family was reunited, and Hermione completely forgave her repentant husband. He and Polixenes were again the best of friends, rejoicing in the happiness of Perdita and Florizel.

CRITICAL EVALUATION

Written after Cymbeline (1609–10) and before The Tempest (1611), The Winter’s Tale is as hard to classify generically as is the fully mature dramatic genius of its author. Partaking of the elements of tragedy, the play yet ends in sheer comedy, just as it mingles elements of realism and romance. William Shakespeare took his usual freedom with his source, Robert Greene’s euphuistic romance Pandosto: The Triumph of Time (1588). Yet time remains the most crucial element in the play’s structure, its clearest break with the pseudo-Aristotelian unities. The effect of time on Hermione, moreover, when the statue is revealed to be wrinkled and aged, heightens the pathos and credibility of the triumphant discovery and recognition scene. In order to allow that final scene its full effect, Shakespeare wisely has Perdita’s discovery and recognition reported to the audience secondhand in Act V, scene ii. In keeping with the maturity of Shakespeare’s dramatic talent, the poetic style of this play is clear, unrhetorical, sparse in its imagery, as well as metaphorically sharp. Verse alternates with prose as court characters alternate with country personages.

Mamillius tells his mother, who asks him for a story, that “a sad tale’s best for winter.” Ironically the little boy’s story is never told; the entrance of Leontes interrupts it, and Hermione’s son, his role as storyteller once defined, strangely disappears. In his place, the play itself takes over, invigorated by Mamillius’s uncanny innocent wisdom, which reflects a Platonic view of childhood. The story that unfolds winds a multitude of themes without losing sight of any of them. It presents two views of honor, a wholesome one represented by Hermione and a demented one represented by Leontes. Like many of Shakespeare’s plays, the narrative concerns the unholy power of kings who can be mistaken but whose power, however mistaken, is final. Yet the finality, here, is spared, the tragic ending avoided: The absolute goodness of Hermione, Paulina, Camillo, the shepherd, and Florizel proves to be enough to overcome the evil of Leontes. Moving from the older generation’s inability to love to the reflowering of love in the younger, the play spins out into a truly comic ending, with the reestablishment of community, royal authority, and general happiness in a triple gamos. The balance of tension between youth and age, guilt and innocence, death and rebirth is decided in favor of life, and the play escapes the clutches of remorseless tragedy in a kind of ultimate mystical vision of human life made ideal through suffering.

Leontes is a most puzzling character. His antifeminism, as expressed in his cynical speech on cuckoldry, seems more fashionable than felt. In his determined jealousy, he resembles Othello, and in his self-inflicted insanity, Lear. In fact, the words of Lear to Cordelia resound in Leontes’s great speech, beginning, “Is whispering nothing?” and concluding, “My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings. / If this be nothing.” It is almost impossible to sympathize with him further when he condemns even his helpless child in the face of Paulina’s gentle pleas; and it is not surprising that he at first even denies the oracle itself. Yet his sudden recognition of culpability is no more convincing than his earlier, unmotivated jealousy. It is as if he changes too quickly for belief; perhaps this is the reason for Hermione’s decision to test his penitence with time, until it ripens into sincerity. Certainly his reaction to his wife’s swoon shows only a superficial emotion. Leontes is still self-centered, still regally assured that all can be put right with the proper words. Only after the years have passed in loneliness does he realize it takes more than orderly words to undo the damage wrought by disorderly royal commands. His admission to Paulina that his words killed Hermione paves the way for the happy ending.

Even the minor characters are drawn well and vividly. Camillo is the ideal courtier who chooses virtue over favor. Paulina, like the nurse Anna in Euripides’s Hippolytus (428 BCE), is the staunch helpmate of her mistress, especially in adversity, aided by magical powers that seem to spring from her own determined character. Her philosophy is also that of the classical Greeks: “What’s gone and what’s past help / Should be past grief.” This play does not have the tragic Greek ending, because Paulina preserves her mistress rather than assisting her to destroy herself. Even the rogue Autolycus is beguiling, with his verbal witticisms, his frank pursuit of self-betterment, and his lusty and delightful songs. His sign is Mercury, the thief of the gods, and he follows his sign like the best rascals in Renaissance tradition, Boccaccio’s Friar Onion, Rabelais’s Panurge, and Shakespeare’s own Falstaff.

In Hermione and Perdita, Shakespeare achieves two of his greatest portraits of women. Hermione’s speech reflects her personality, straightforward, without embroidery, as pure as virtue itself. Her reaction to Leontes’s suspicion and condemnation is brief, but telling. “Adieu, my lord,” she says, “I never wish’d to see you sorry; now /I trust I shall.” She combines the hardness of Portia with the gentleness of Desdemona; in fact, Antigonus’s oath in her defense recalls the character of Othello’s wife. Like Geoffrey Chaucer’s patient Griselda, Hermione loses everything, but she strikes back with the most devastating weapon of all: time. Yet in the final scene of the play it is clear that her punishment of Leontes has made Hermione suffer no less. Perdita personifies, though never in a stereotyped way, gentle innocence: “Nothing she does or seems / But smacks of something greater than herself / Too noble for this place.” Indeed, when Polixenes’s wrath, paralleling Leontes’s previous folly, threatens Perdita’s life for a second time, the audience holds its breath because she is too good to be safe. When Shakespeare saves her, the play, sensing the audience’s joy, abruptly ends on its highest note.

In its theme and structure, The Winter’s Tale bears a striking resemblance to Euripides’s Alcestis (438 BCE). In both plays, the “death” of the queen threatens the stability and happiness of society and, in both, her restoration, which is miraculous and ambiguous, restores order to the world of the court. Shakespeare, however, widens the comic theme by adding the love of the younger generation. So The Winter’s Tale defies the forces of death and hatred romantically as well as realistically. The sad tale becomes happy, as winter becomes spring.

—Kenneth John Atchity

FILM ADAPTATIONS

1980–81 BBC Shakespeare Production

Directed by Jane Howell, this adaptation featured Rikki Fulton as Autolycus; Robin Kermode as Florizel; Anna Calder-Marshall as Hermione; Jeremy Kemp as Leontes; Margaret Tyzack as Paulina; Debbie Farrington as Perdita; and Robert Stephens as Polixenes.

Henry Fenwick, in his essay on “The Production” printed as part of the booklet the BBC published to accompany the first broadcast of this play, described director Jane Howell as a committed, intense perfectionist (17–18); reported that Howell said that television need not be realistic and that for her the strength of the acting is what counts (18); said that Howell stressed the Englishness of the play despite the “foreign” setting; and said that she professed that she was not interested in being realistic. He quoted Howell as commenting that “the character of Perdita interests me very much because it seems she has the graces of both ways of being brought up: she has the simplicity and honesty of the country and she also has a true sophistication of the town and education inbred in her. She and Hermione are the most balanced people in the play and it seems a play about balance, and about reconciliation.” Howell emphasized the importance of seasons in the play, saying that she began with winter, when emotions are the most exposed, then transitioned to spring (19). She thought that seasons are not that difficult to imply or depict on television; felt that a director should trust Shakespeare’s words and not try to replace them with props or special effects; and remarked that the set “had to be the same for the country and the court” but viewed and presented differently (20). Don Homfray, the set designer told Fenwick that “Jane felt that one of the themes of the play is that life is always the same and that it depends on how you open yourself to it, what you do to it, that makes you see it differently. The landscape of life, if you like, is seen in a certain way; but if a different action is taken, a different choice is made, then the landscape changes. So we felt that the set should always be the same place but always seen slightly differently,” so that at the end, the production emphasized the movement from light to darkness (21). John Peacock, the costume designer, said that the costumes were inspired by Botticelli, Bruegel, van Eyck, and others and that Leontes and Polixines “change places” by the end in the ways they are dressed. He described how Hermione was disguised as a sculpture and said that the costumes reflect the early seventeenth century (22). Howell, returning to the discussion and saying that she saw the bear as a symbolic extension of Leontes, who himself is dressed in furs, also remarked that she emphasizes the importance of the actors (23) but also thinks the plot and Shakespeare’s words are even more important than the actors, who are there to serve the plot (24). She saw the sudden jealousy of Leontes as typical of the way humans in the world are often irrational (24–25), while Anna Calder-Marshall, who played Hermione, said that she tried to imply in the opening scene that her marriage to Leontes had been a long and happy one and that his sudden jealousy completely mystified her. Jeremy Kemp, playing Leontes, said: “I think in the last group of plays Shakespeare was getting impatient with the mechanics of plot and he wanted to get launched into this story of a jealous man” as quickly as possible. Kemp considered Leontes “not a very secure chap. You have to remember that he comes out of it just as suddenly—and that perhaps is a greater problem for an actor than getting into it” (25). Kemp considered the last scene the hardest: “Leontes is given a second chance. He himself is, in a manner of speaking, brought back from stone. … He was constantly reminded of [Hermione] by Paulina; she was still very much alive in his head” (26). Calder-Marshall described the difficulty of playing the statue scene; her first impulse was to cry when she first saw her daughter; but her second impulse was that she should not cry because doing so would upset her daughter (26–27). Howell herself, in some of the final remarks Fenwick recorded, said, “I believe in Resurrection and regrowth—not necessarily in a Christian sense, but I do believe in a cyclic thing, in the right to have second chances. And the health that comes to us through our children. Everyone has the right to a second chance and can take that right. That regenerative thing in the play kept me going. I find it the most satisfying of plays, I mean deeply, on a spiritual level, very rewarding.” Stressing the need for audiences to pay close attention to every single one of Shakespeare’s words since the words are the essence of a Shakespeare play, she said that she strives for clarity in her productions (27).

J. C. Bulman and H. R. Coursen, in their pioneering 1988 critical anthology Shakespeare on Television, quoted from and/or reported on the earliest reviews. One, in the London Times, faulted the production’s pace and sets, commended the three lead actors, while another, in the Washington Post found the “scanty, semi-abstract scenery appropriate for a story whose true location is never-never land,” noting that closeups were frequently featured and praising Jeremy kemp’s credibly jealous Leontes. A writer for the New York Times considered this one of the best of the BBC productions, praising the clarity of the language, the “solid, at times superb performances,” and broadcast’s overall result of “delightful surprise.” A reviewer for an academic journal noted the symbolism of Leonte’s bear-like fur coat, praised the acting, and reported that there was “little attempt to age the characters between the first and second half.” Another academic, writing for London’s Times Literary Supplement, thought that the “set’s limitations … deny the romantic liberties of the tale” and said that “televising the play resulted in reducing perspective, diminishing stature,” and inhibiting rhetoric. This reviewer remarked that “Jeremy Kemp’s Leontes, introverted, properly humourless, seems understated. His anguished utterances need air. He avoids embarrassment but sacrifices range. He contrasts with Robert Stephens’s Polixenes, never dull, but mannered, visually and vocally, with no respect for the pentameter line.” However, this reviewer did praise the performances of Margaret Tyzack, Cyril Luckham, Arthur Hewlett, Debbie Farrington, and George Howe (276). Jane Howell’s direction was called “sensible and fluent” but the play was judged to be “smaller, flatter [on television] than in the theatre. There is less sense of interaction among the characters, and so less comedy, less drama. … Though the statue scene is moving, the focus on individuals denies us the sense of simultaneous involvement.” In short, “The approach is intelligent and honest, the acting accomplished, but the medium has reduced the message” (277). A review in the Shakespeare Quarterly, also quoted by Bulman and Coursen, observed that “Ms. Howell has encoded ‘things dying’ and ‘things reborn’ in contrasts of stark white and subtle greens and pinks”; reported that the set was “non-representational in rendering this tragicomedy as a dream play set against a symbolic world of pyramids and cones”; thought this Leontes confirmed feminists’ worst suspicions about men; and found the heavy costumes strangely at odds with an southern Italian setting. Jeremy Kemp’s Leontes was called “very understated,” and the reviewer wrote that he sometimes “would have liked to see the camera pull back so that from a suitable distance I could behold Leontes properly rave and rant. Like Titus and Lear, he should fly off the handle” (277).

Donald Hedrick, reviewing this production for the Shakespeare on Film Newsletter, called the adaptation “too tame” and the bear “embarrassing” and “shabbily costumed” in a fashion “inappropriate for realistic or fantastic style.” He thought the production’s “good sense” resulted in “timidity” and “restraint,” albeit also in “elegance and clarity.” Describing the setting as “visually bare” and the acting “crisp and restrained, with additions of delivery and gesture and blocking that are intelligent and studied,” he nonetheless mostly found that “the actors, like the bear, have too little to do (the opposite of so much busy contemporary theatre). Too many lines are merely intoned reverentially” (4). He concluded: “For all its elegance, this gentle production manages to inspire an irreverent reverie: for a wild bear director to be suddenly let loose on the set, running amok” (6).

In her 1991 book on the BBC series, Susan Willis wrote that “Winter’s Tale was the start of [director Jane] Howell’s experience with the Shakespeare series, and of all her productions it has the most highly strung cast and the most abstract set” (167), with an emphasis on “seasonal changes” (168). According to Willis, “the actors often seem aware of the camera and engage with it” (169).

Ros King, in her 2009 handbook on the play (142–43) described the BBC set; noted that characters are often shown walking toward the camera from a long distance (142); said that Leontes often speaks directly to the camera; remarked that the film powerfully presents a “cold, controlled society” lacking privacy; and observed how the set slightly changes in the second half (143).

Writing in his 2013 book Small-Screen Shakespeare (344–46), Peter Cochran found this production disappointing because of the nondescript set (344); mocked other settings; faulted the bear (345); called this version “half-baked”; but did term the actors “excellent” (346).

In an essay from 2017 titled “The Winter’s Tale: Comparing the Polish Television Theatre and the BBC Versions,” Jacek Fabiszak, comparing and contrasting the BBC version of The Winter’s Tale with an earlier television version broadcast in Poland, noted the challenges presented by television productions and the differing views of various critics about those challenges. He described producer Jonathan Miller’s approach to the BBC series and the freedom he gave to Jane Howell when she directed The Winter’s Tale (94–96). Fabiszak listed various similarities between the BBC and Polish productions, saying that both avoided being mere filmed versions of theatrical stagings, that both used comparably unrealistic sets, and that both sets emphasized artifice (98–100). He reported that the productions differed in the extent to which they emphasized color, with Howell greatly emphasizing it both in the sets and the costumes she employed (100–101). Writing that both directors avoided spectacular acting, instead focusing on “the power of words” (101) and that both productions allowed actors to address the camera directly (102–3), he also reported that both women directors gave great attention to the play’s female characters (103–4). His essay closed with a final assessment of each director’s strengths (104).

1999 Doran/Lough Production

Directed by Gregory Doran and Robin Lough and broadcast on British television in 1999, this adaptation featured Ken Bones as Polixenes; Emily Bruni as Mamillius/Perdita; Alexandra Gilbreath as Hermione; Ian Hughes as Autolycus; Estelle Kohler as Paulina; and Antony Sher as Leontes.

Ros King, in her 1999 overview of the play (143–45), highly praised this version. She described the set; noted the emphasis on shades of gray (143); said there is sometimes too much focus on characters’ medical conditions; mentioned an over-emphasis on jealousy; reported changes in the set (144); and thought there is too little focus on Hermione’s resilience and too much on Leontes’s sickness. King found the conclusion “distinctly unmoving” (145).

In his 2013 book Small-Screen Shakespeare (346–49), Peter Cochran said the play especially benefits from live performance (347–48); described the broadcast’s initial setting; said Anthony Sher’s Leontes is neurotic (347); and noted the use of doubling actors (347–48). He described textual cuts and the final setting (348); commented on the diverse styles of Autolycus and praised his singing; but found the pastoral scene too colorless (346–49).

Bibliography

1 

Bulman, J. C., and H. R. Coursen, editors. Shakespeare on Television: An Anthology of Essays and Reviews. UP of New England, 1988.

2 

Cochran, Peter. Small-Screen Shakespeare. Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013.

3 

Fabiszak, Jacek. “The Winter’s Tale: Comparing the Polish Television Theatre and the BBC Versions.” Shakespeare on Screen: The Tempest and Late Romances, edited by Sarah Hatchuel and Nathalie Vienne-Guerrin, Cambridge UP, pp. 91–109.

4 

Fenwick, Henry. “The Production.” The Shakespeare Plays: The Winter’s Tale. BBC, 1980, pp. 17–27.

5 

Hedrick, Donald K. “The Shakespeare Plays on TV: The Winter’s Tale.” Shakespeare on Film Newsletter, vol. 6, no. 1, Jan. 1982, pp. 4, 6.

6 

King, Ros. The Winter’s Tale: A Guide to the Text and the Play in Performance. Shakespeare Handbooks series. Palgrave Macmillan, 2009.

7 

Willis, Susan. The BBC Shakespeare Plays: Making the Televised Canon. U of North Carolina P, 1991.

Citation Types

Type
Format
MLA 9th
Atchity, Kenneth John. "Winter’s Tale." Critical Survey of Shakespeare: Film Adaptations, edited by Robert C. Evans, Salem Press, 2025. Salem Online, online.salempress.com/articleDetails.do?articleName=CSSF_0043.
APA 7th
Atchity, K. J. (2025). Winter’s Tale. In R. C. Evans (Ed.), Critical Survey of Shakespeare: Film Adaptations. Salem Press. online.salempress.com.
CMOS 17th
Atchity, Kenneth John. "Winter’s Tale." Edited by Robert C. Evans. Critical Survey of Shakespeare: Film Adaptations. Hackensack: Salem Press, 2025. Accessed December 08, 2025. online.salempress.com.