Scot can only remain one of the unexplained mysteries of theatrical history. Ariel in this production was similarly affectless, but to much greater effect. Rather than the anxious puppydog he's usually portrayed as being, he became a kind of saintly schizophrenic presiding over the play, toying with these mortals in almost scientific detachment, bemused by their responses, capable of killing heartlessly if his master's voice should tell him so, but thankfully spared that role by Prospero's own good intentions. As indicated above, the best bits here were the ones that made the audience a part of the performance. Much more effective than Redgrave's explicit ad lib, for example, was the implicit sharing of the audience in the entering Triculo's plight.
Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.
As in most productions, Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban all but stole the show in their initial acquaintance and rebellion. Wet as we were, few of us wanted it to end. If ever a production truly exhibited what even monarchs had to fear from the theater's potential to foment popular rebellion, this was the one. Caliban, you realized, is the natural leader of this troop or would be, if here weren't convinced of his own inferiority from the start. Stephano's just his figurehead.