onionbagblog

To Shakespeare’s Globe! …on Saturday afternoon for a slightly out of seasonal romp of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The Summer Solstice was but seven days away, and whaddya know - the Transpontine weather was as buggered as poor old Bully Bottom and his botched attempts at love.

Plastic ponchos appeared as the downpour started as soon as Oberon and Titania were ill met by fair moonlight. The sun came out in South London just as the hey nonny nonny dancing brought the Dream to an end.

Shall we recount tales of our dreams, Comrades?

Don’t have nightmares, but the jolly Jacobean dancing that opened the performance ended in a multiple death scene. Supporters of the Fairy King and Queen clashed before the first dialogue was even spoken. It didn’t really set the scene for the three hours that followed. The Fairy world was more fun than frightening, although any Groundlings hugging the stage did get a few wonky looks from Puck and his pals.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream is essentially a play within a play within a play. Pissing it down is optional - the first appearance of the clog dancing Mechanicals drenched your funny bones in farcical fluid, if not the rest of your rain drenched body.

Elsewhere and Oberon and Titania were incredibly intense, Puck was gloriously disturbing (and disturbed), leaving the dopey four Lovers caught right in the middle of the serious / silly spectrum. Lysander stood out as a particularly smarmy git - the kinda guy that Willie S would have elevated to knobber sports car status in any contemporary setting.

It takes a while for the three worlds to spectacularly collide. This is always the dilemma for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s not *quite* Panto, but there is a temptation to walk around the wooden surrounds of The Globe shouting “He’s behind you!” …whenever Puck goes merrily wandering with the magic flower.

Once the Fairies, Mechanicals and Lovers are all thrown together, then the production starts to become more playful. Demetrius has a literal head over heels moment in love, which was rather spectacular to watch. The dry humping of a Globe pillar by Oberon is something that I don’t remember from my ‘O’ Level Drama back in the day.

I do recall though the craft of the intertwining and twisted plots over the course of one balmy Midsummer evening. The Globe production plays this out, as each character descends into a Lord of the Flies downward spiral as the magic of Midsummer starts to kick in.

It’s not the slapstick that some productions draw upon. Instead there is a mythical appearance to what is essentially a basic school production style backdrop and setting. The characters are strong enough to convince you that a wet afternoon setting south of the river is actually a transfixed fairy garden full of confusion and deceit.

The corset-busting scene is reserved for The Mechanicals come the close. The play within a play is an incredibly physical comedy containing cross dressing and knob gags - as all half decent wedding celebrations should be ale to boast.

A grubby fiver for an afternoon out at The Globe still remains the best value ticket in London. ZERO inflation over a sixteen-year period since the re-opening of the Bankside theatre is testimony the belief in spreading the work of Shakespeare, rather than simply cashing in with a commercial operation.

A wonderful surprise come the close on Saturday was the appearance stage right of Dominic Dromgoole, the Artistic Director of The Globe. Sam Wannamaker would have been 94 the previous day if he were still around. A presentation followed in recognition of keeping alive a love of Shakespeare south of the river. The Transpontine sky turned blue, and a yellow orb from up above radiated around The Globe.

My soul is in the sky, etc.