April 7, 1998

A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of two shows being performed this month at the Orlando-UCF Shakespeare Festival, is a comedy about magic and dreams. This inventive interpretation, directed by Festival veteran Jim Helsinger, is imbued liberally with both, and while far from flawless, nonetheless creates an enjoyable and memorable experience.

As you may have heard by now, this Midsummer is set in British Colonial India. Magic is invoked before the play even begins, with sari-clad ushers, exotic incense floating on the breeze, and the unexpected treat of a live musical performance from a raga trio. I must admit I was hoping for a more thorough thematic justification of the setting, other than the obvious Eastern mysticism involved. "Colonial India," I thought going in, "right on, some stickin'-it-to-the-man, down-with-whitey type satire, I'm down with that." I was a little disappointed that the historical meaning and context weren't explored more, but then again, Midsummer isn't what you'd call a message play anyway. The Indian setting is still probably the most creative interpretation I've seen of this play, and serves well to differentiate between the ordinary world and the extraordinary realm of dreams.

The production is a technical masterpiece, and a feast for three of the senses (four, if you bring your own picnic basket - I recommend curry, and five if you bring a pillow to avoid the waffle-butt syndrome induced by the metal grid seats). The visuals are downright stunning at times, a perfect synergy of costume, lighting, and set design, especially in the scenes with Oberon and Titania, the king and queen of the faeries. These two are Hindu idols come to life, complete with the blue skin and, at times, multiple arms of the traditional depictions of Vishnu. These elements, combined with their gracefully deliberate body movements, create transcendent moments of painterly beauty. The play also features some truly innovative and well-placed use of sound effects and music, including live sitar, tabla, and myriad other instruments played by a musician in a parapet overlooking the stage. Again, fine attention to detail often overlooked in live theater. Better use could have been made of the stage space itself, however; for such a fantastic multi-level set, the actors too often are placed in a chorus-line formation, and don't do much with the upper level.

The acting in Midsummer is all at least above-average, but the two performances that really stuck out were Philip Nolen as Bottom, and Christine Calfas as Titania. In just about every production I've seen, the character of Bottom (you know, the one who ends up with the head of an ass) ends up getting the biggest laughs - it's a showcase role. Still, Nolen brings a freshness and whimsy to the role that had me laughing long before the pants-wetting comedic crescendo of "Pyramus and Thisbee", the hilariously melodramatic play-within-a-play performed by Bottom and the rest of the inept Mechanicals. Nolen is one of the few performers who seems to be genuinely having fun with his role; indeed, during the suicide in "Pyramus and Thisbee", he responded to some irksome microphone problems with a hilarious ad-lib, offering his final death blow as a "sacrifice to the gods of amplification." As Titania, Calfas captures the mystique and otherworldliness of the faerie queen in a seemingly effortless manner. (In the program, it says that she's played Titania before, and is a Fulbright Scholar in Indian classical dance, so maybe it really is effortless; in any case, her poise and experience show through.)

The performance that gave me the most pause was Puck, played by John Daggett. The problem isn't a matter of acting, but interpretation. In this show, Puck is portrayed as a white-furred monkey, a typage designed to instantly convey mischief to the audience, and as an actor, Daggett is fully and energetically committed to the monkey role. Some of the mischief is there, and the part gets laughs for sure, but the crude, boorish quality of a monkey-man seems more at home with the broad humor of the Mechanicals than with the fleeting spirit world of the faeries. There also wasn't much delineation between the four main characters - Lysander and Demetrius, the male leads, and Hermia and Helena, the female leads. Besides the obvious external differences, these characters seemed pretty much interchangeable.

The play relies on cheap laughs a little too often, as with Puck's broad aping (no pun intended), and the pop culture references sprinkled throughout (although I admit the jab at a certain flamboyant Irish step dancer had me howling). Also distracting is the use of what I call the "Kwik-E-Mart Rule of Comedy", which states that any line of dialog is automatically funny if it is delivered with an exaggerated Punjabi accent. Fortunately, however, this method is not employed excessively.

These gripes are all relatively minor when viewed within the context of a production as imaginative and refreshingly entertaining as this one is. The production's Achilles heel boils down to style winning out over substance, but given the transient, dreamlike nature of the play itself coupled with such splendid and formidable style, it's not such a grave battle lost.

Jim Gunshanan is filmwriter looking to support himself in doing what he loves. He likes Indian food and music. Other Articles I've Written