A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is currently playing at Washington, D.C.’s Shakespeare Theatre, must be a nightmare to direct.
One can emphasize its political accents, with Theseus’s decision to abrogate ancient Athenian law and introduce democratic consent into the structure of the aristocracy, or choose to weave a dream-like production, that places Puck and the comedy of the Mechanicals front and center. Doing both is next to impossible, if only because the theatrical elements of Midsummer tend to eclipse (when performed, not read) instead of shade, the deeper political philosophy of the play. Director Ethan McSweeny’s decision to make “all the different stories work equally well,” de facto settles the matter in favor of theatrics, and so we are treated to a Midsummer that delights the eyes in favor of enlivening the mind. But what delight you are in for!
Midsummer is set during the Athens of mythical Theseus, which is to say it is set both somewhere and nowhere at once. This allows McSweeny a latitude of artistry of which he takes—at times—a bit too much advantage. The play opens with Theseus, here in full military regalia resembling a Perón or Mussolini, addressing Athens from the top of a balcony through a booming microphone. One immediately gets the sensation that this Midsummer will, after all, focus on the question of regime and ruler. Instead, the play largely takes place against the backdrop of a dilapidated theatre that is also inhabited by Oberon and his extended retinue. The decision to set the play in this manner produces a slightly soporific effect, which sublimates the animating imperative (Marry him, or else!) deeper than is useful for understanding the dramatic action. The two sets of lovers are also somewhat out of sync with the opening background: Lysander is dressed (and acts) like a young Bob Dylan, while Demetrius looks a Phillips Andover pupil; Hermia is adorned like an Archie comics character, Helena like one of Edward Hopper’s suffering women. The interplay between the adolescents is a further cause of disorientation. For instance, Lysander and Demetrius are supposed to be playing for keeps, so to speak, but the two men act more like fraternity brothers overcome in heat than rival lovers dueling for the eternal heart of a beloved. Here, however, any complaints with the play end.
McSweeny’s Midsummer does so much so well. Lee Savage’s set design is a marvel to behold, containing the Midsummer cosmos in one basic backdrop. This feat is complimented by lighting designer Tyler Micoleau’s ability to act as a midwife to our imagination, always focusing the right amount of attention on actor or object. Special mention should also be made of choreographer, Peter Pucci, who puts the Fairies—and everything else—in wondrous motion. Pride of place, of course, goes to the cast whose excellence is in inverse proportion to that of the original Mechanicals. Unlike Lear, Hamlet, or Macbeth, Midsummer does not seem to have been written with one outstanding character in mind. Even so, Adam Green’s devilish (and hyper-sexual) Puck steals the show. Even the Mechanicals, ostensibly led by Peter Quince, who is played by the outstanding Ted van Griethuysen, but really (keep those political questions in mind!) led by Bottom, played by the equally capable—and hilarious—Tom Alan Robbins, are no match for Green’s Puck.
Midsummer’s philosophic counterpart is The Tempest, a play where Shakespeare gives the political question of ruling and ruled his deepest expression. Like Midsummer, The Tempest’s environs—staged well—can be distracting. Thankfully, McSweeny, who recently directed both plays for the Shakespeare Theatre Company, is part Prospero, part Puck, part Bottom, and even the most persnickety theatergoer cannot help fall under his charm.
The Shakespeare Theatre’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream runs from September 1 – September 13 at Sidney Harman Hall in Washington. The Shakespeare Theatre Company provided complimentary tickets to view this production.
