Often called Shakespeare’s sexiest comedy, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, as imagined by Hart House Theatre, falls closer to raunchy burlesque than aristocratic theatre. The show, directed by Jeremy Hutton, depicts several love triangles that, as the show goes on, shift, transform, and cross-connect.
In Athens, Hermia is determined to marry Lysander, who returns her love completely. Unfortunately, Hermia’s father is equally determined that she marry Demetrius, who claims to love her just as much as Lysander. Meanwhile, Helena, longtime friend of Hemia’s, was formerly involved with Demetrius but recently rejected by him, and has been pining after him since.
In the forest, there is an equally complex dynamic amongst the fairies. Oberon, king of the fairies, is feuding with Titania, his queen, because she refuses to give him a young Indian changeling. He has his servant, Puck, drug Titania to fall in love with an ass, so he can kidnap the changeling.
Finally, there is a band of handymen or “actors” attempting to put on a play. One of these, Nick Bottom, is the beast with whom Titania becomes infatuated.
These storylines are all tied together by Theseus, King of Athens, who has power over Hermia, Helena, Demetrius, and Lysander, who is a former lover of Titania, and is marrying Amazonian Queen Hippolyta, former lover of Oberon. Their wedding is the reason for the handymen’s play, and the finish of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Since it’s a comedy, I won’t be spoiling it by telling you that all loose ends are tied, fights finished, and love triangles sorted into pairs by the end.
Hutton sets the play in the 19th century and depicts the fairies as gypsies. As such, the sets are appropriate—the play opens on a grey afternoon with a single lamppost. The forest in which the fairies frolic features an elaborate caravan and bonfire. Likewise, the costumes are well-executed considering the direction: the Athenians costumes are distinctly English, and the gypsies’ costumes—full, colourful skirts and scarves for the women and intricate tattoos for the men—show Hutton’s particular spin on the characters in a beautiful and effective way.
Hutton portrayed the fairies as gypsies because he felt they shared many qualities: both groups were peripheral to their societies, and fundamentally transient. He represents gypsy culture as “an imagined culture cobbled together from fragments of the music, dance, art, and fashion of a dozen different regions.” The result is eclectic and engaging song and dance, which is perfectly timed and executed by the fairy dancers.
Unfortunately, the portrayal of the Athenians as members of 19th-century society is at times problematic. The play is whimsical, magical, and openly sexual. But this characterization is jarring, given the emphasis on rationality at the turn of the century; it makes the characters’ emotions and carryings-on seem silly, as opposed to light-hearted, and the sexuality seems juvenile, as opposed to edgy.
Despite this, there is excellent acting on the part of most of the performers. Hermia, played by Adrianna Prosser, is a perfect combination of flighty and melodramatic—a true comedienne. Helena, played by Carly Chamberlain, at first gives an over-the-top, one-note presentation of the woman scorned, but comes into her own in the forest, where she is sincere and deep-feeling.
Andy Cockburn and Andrew Knowlton, playing Lysander and Demetrius respectively, do a very good job, especially in changing from upright gentlemen to love-drugged fools. Andrew Dundass as Theseus, and Thomas Gough as Quince, were both perfectly cast—their characterization and execution were dead-on.
However, the show ends on an unfortunate note. The “play within a play,” Pyramus and Thisbe, quickly digresses from silly to ridiculous. It drags on for far too long, and by the end seems much more for the entertainment of the actors than the audience. Overall, the individual aspects of the show are good: the lighting and sound effects are excellent, the music and dancing engaging, the sets effective, and the acting fine. It suffers, though, from poor direction, which makes the characters and content seem silly and trivial.
A Midsummer’s Night Dream runs at Hart House Theatre through December 5.
