A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Rep, Birmingham, until 24th May
There is nothing – and I mean absolutely nothing – in this whole wide world that makes kids laugh more than the sight of someone getting kicked in the nuts.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Don’t believe me? Get yourself up to Birmingham Rep where this super-silly production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream excels in said kicking to the tenderest of parts. Not to mention the flicking, biffing and otherwise gratuitous violence aimed at those ouchi-est of nether regions. Cue mass giggling, screeching and crying out for more, more, more from the primary schoolers in this enthusiastic, all-ages crowd.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Directors Joe Murphy and Madeleine Kludje have gone no-holds-barred full panto on the bard for this one, plundering the plot – already ripe for ridiculousness as originally written around 1594 – for every conceivable opportunity to titillate the crowd.
Ringleader, imposing themself front and centre in this havoc of hi-jinks, is Adam Carter aka drag artist Fatt Butcher, our dame if you like. They’re Puck – “as in what the Puck?” – a flamboyantly costumed, spectacularly sarcastic preening peacock leading the cast up and down in a mischievous merry dance with a couple of crowd singalongs for good measure. Victims of the conjured vicissitudes on the neon-lit stage are Haydn Oakley who doubles up as the stiff shirt Theseus and the crusty Oberon, king of the fairies who resembles no-one so much as the tramp who gives that fearful fellow a heart attack in David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive and, in one of this production’s bold reversals, is the one drugged to fall in lust with the donkey-transformed Bottom.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Boss of this twisted bewitching is Ellena Vincent’s forceful Titania, which may sound like quite a controversial, even catastrophic change to the original, but actually works rather well; Oberon serenading the ass with Foreigner’s I Want To Know What Love Is one of many show-stopping scenes.
Vincent doubles up as Hippolyta while the quartet of messed-about lovers also feature a modern quirk in that Charlotte Wallis, Evie Ward-Drummond, Isabel Adomakoh Young and Qasim Mahmood are dressed in school uniform and act out their relationship issues with the aid of smart phones, as if they’re involved in a playground tiff. Oh, and Lysander is now Lysandra so half of the intrigue’s now lesbian.
Again, on the face of it and in cold text, this could appear a little try-hard woke but it never comes across that way. And that’s one of the really encouraging strengths of this production – that the embracing of sexual fluidity and the multi-cultural casting feels totally natural – not so much a statement as an honest reflection of Birmingham’s gladdening cultural make-up.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Talking of statements, though, there’s a preachy bit at the start and finish about climate change that, admirable intention aside, is out-of-place tonally. The mis-step’s not worth dwelling on though, when there are the idiotic rude mechanicals to savour.
The way the play is pitched, one might fear that the high daftness count throughout might lessen the traditionally hilarious impact of the play within the play. Fear not. Hannah McPate’s Quince is as put-upon an organiser as there ever was and gets a surprising turn which I won’t spoil. There’s some ridiculously good doings involving James Tanton’s Snout and the depiction of wall which calls to mind Spinal Tap, and Omar Malik gives Puck a run for their money as cock of the roost with his Bottom, a magnificent study in narcissistic buffoonery.
Played with the emphasis on sheer entertainment, this AMND is probably a no-go for prudes and purists but a brilliant introduction to Shakespeare for little ‘uns and tremendous fun for the open of mind and young of heart.