Midsummer madness at the Globe

Titania

Zubin Varla as Oberon and Meow Meow as Titania

I saw this show two days after the UK voted to leave the EU, in what seemed to me a fit of midsummer madness. I was with a Belgian friend who was now wondering how long she will be able to live in lovely London – and whether she was still welcome. We were both in serious need of cheering up.

Boy, did the Globe deliver. This was one sexy, swaggering, joyous carnival of theatre. A Midsummer Night’s Dream is one of Shakespeare’s dafter plots. It requires an embrace of the absurd and fantastical, a massive willingness to suspend disbelief. I mean, fairies. Love potions. Amateur actors sprouting donkey’s heads, with scant regard for evolutionary theory. Richard Dawkins would hate it.

I’ve seen minimalist productions that expect you to do that work on your own, with only a few leotards and hanging drapes to help your imagination. This production, Emma Rice’s first as artistic director of Shakespeare’s Globe, could be described as maximalist.

It doesn’t feel like a play, so much as a musical show, a celebration rich with comedy, dance and song. Other voices, from John Donne to David Bowie, are conscripted to the irreverent mix. The energy fizzes, the costumes dazzle, the wit sparkles. The farcical elements are played to the max, wringing every drop of comedy from Titania’s lust for Bottom, and the lovers’ misplaced longing for each other. The energy is earthy and raw, the fairies elemental rather than ethereal. Titania (the outstanding Meow Meow) and Oberon are wilful as well as powerful, dishevelled, funny and magnificent by turns.

The much-commented gender swap from Helena to Helenus could have been gimmicky, but Ankur Bahl gave the part a heartbroken tenderness that makes good sense of the lovers’ relationships. Anjana Vasan was a charmingly lusty Hermia, Katy Owen a beguiling Puck. By the end of the show, when the puzzles had been resolved, the play had been played out and every Jack had his Jill (or his Jack), we were swept up into a dazzling finale of bhangra that rocked us out of our seats.

It was the sort of thing London does best. Shakespeare, our greatest national treasure, can well take anything that multi-ethnic, pan-sexual London can thrown at him. Indeed, his work dazzles all the brighter for the alchemy.

In a strange contrast, I was in Stratford-on-Avon three days later, sipping tea in the Hathaway tea shop in the heart of this Midlands English town. Stratford has been preserved for the nation as a genteel Shakespeare-land, with more Elizabethan houses than you can shake a stick at. Shakespeare might have recognised the buildings, but I bet he’d have recognised the excitement of the Globe as a truer legacy of his genius.

Photo: Steve Tanner.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, directed by Emma Rice, is at Shakespeare’s Globe until 11 September 2016.

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