Review: A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM, Shakespeare’s Globe
Photo credit: Helen Murray
A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a play which tackles head on the idea of what is fated and what is fickle when it comes to love, informed by the perceptions of yourself which you believe to be true – whether self-deprecating or overly narcissistic – and playing out different ways of viewing romantic connection – from those who earn it, to those for whom it is merely a transaction, to those who think it is owed to them, and beyond. This production, currently gracing the magically intimate Sam Wanamaker Playhouse at Shakespeare’s Globe, captivates and challenges. A physicality throughout wakes the brain and stimulates the heart, emphasised in snapshot moments with dynamic practical effects of transcendent atmospheric power, swept up by magic to crash back home.
Lighting excellently transforms the set, at its most impressive convincing the crowd of morning through the window while live sound effects, classical music and dance are used to represent a more whimsical world, anchored in its artistry, airy in its comedy, and arguably sharp in its song choice, and a clever, perhaps genius, use of space sees us imploring you to look upward once in a while.
The tone is set instantly amongst a smattering of chuckles at a rather abstract opening of suspended challenge for the audience. Deprived and then overwhelmed with drowning silence and hurried ambience respectively, we see a cleverly constructed spotlight on the working class, quickly followed by that of misogyny and sexism, a weighted sink into your seat to the point of pure focus. The show will take Shakespearean themes to their depths but yet, with a violent scene to start, an even more violent one to close, and everything in between, the production is able to make what is classical, unexpected.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream through the eyes of co-directors Holly Race Roughan and Naeem Hayat is visionary. Excellent dramaturgy by Frank Peschier supports an interesting adaptation of the text, of which this reviewer stands careful of branding all-together clever – but teeters on the side of doing so. Though we lose certain staples, the moving parts of the narrative are not so tightly bound as they have been previously, fairies are not tethered stereotypically to a life based in nature and spirituality and rather in some ways finding their base in the unnatural, stand out quotes are built upon and given new life, and the so-called “rude mechanicals” bringing us that classic play-within-the-play are connected with a clever anchorage and tie to the main ship.
An incredible cast take to the stage, all but two taking on a double role. Sergo Vares brings to life only the iconic Puck. Our central figure in many ways, dressed in each of the directions he is pulled – or rather the parts he plays – singularly capturing the askew nature in his characterisation whilst allowing a clever outward expression of his readiness to be interchangeable, further illustrated in moments of bespoke embrace of a particular side. Interpretation of his magic in this staging captures the inhuman element in eerie, sometimes horror-like, ways as clever use of his spritely foundation assists aesthetically in his own transformations. A role of great theatrical undertaking, Sergo Vares does not buckle and plays a Puck that blends in. A new path compared to his largely overpowering predecessors, his guiding hand does not grip the narrative as tightly or dramatically as previous iterations have seen. Vares rather leads, not lost in his enjoyments, but tactical of them in a wonderfully confident and controlled performance.
Whilst the original text has often said to not allow for particularly explored personality or depth within each part of the respective broken pairings, this cast more than provides and it is the central four – the humans – that shine through, although some – for the pains they take – prove to be the closest to perfection. Lou Jackson as Demetrius is dressed to the part of the entitled preppy rich, bolstered by wealth and stature – a character we have seen before in modern explorations of romance, or general teen dramas, becoming a clever vehicle for adding dimension to the Shakespearean baseline of the man who forsakes one love and harasses another. Jackson’s approach is entirely unafraid and as such, captivates absolutely with his malleable capability. Amongst a full surrender to such a turbulent journey as is Demetrius’, he takes on brilliantly a share of the plot with historically blatant holes and question marks – a metamorphic arc where his counterparts in romantic entanglement come full circle – managing to instil some sympathy for Demetrius and happiness for his ending. Jackson takes the stage in both roles with beautiful physicality and presence, with pleasant surprises in physical comedy and melodic vocal. That this is his professional debut, following a summer 2025 graduation, is a true wonder. His promise in on-stage performance is beyond belonging.
Pria Kalsi in her dual portrayal of Flute and the Child truly splits herself in two. Her prowess in doing so is challenged only by that of Michael Marcus playing the sensitivity of the romanticised regal Oberon and the brutality of the stark militia Theseus. The choice to have the changeling child not only on stage but incorporated into the script sets an exciting foundation for the creative re-imagining to unfold. Hedydd Dylan takes on a grungy Titania – performed, in her unenchanted movements, with a relished anger only softened in maternal care of the young girl – further tackling the idea of gendered experience punctuated contrastingly in perceived contempt for humanity.
Tiwa Lade and Tara Tijani, as female leads, stage speech which is refreshingly matter of fact, where although they are driven by an all-encompassing love, they do not lack a self-standing power. It is their interaction with one another that, in fact, unearths a shining comedic peak, slipping into modern cadence and rhythm. The grounded counterparts to their flitting spellbound men. Tijani, as Helena, is a shining talent on this stage, proving herself a performer of incredible presence, tears running down her face within her first personal address of the audience.
In a time that has seen this Shakespeare classic return in a big way – with reference to the play and its characters in the latest season of Netflix’s Sandman and the return of the Bridge Theatre’s production seeing Moorst revive his 2019 portrayal of Robin Goodfellow – what is proving to be something of an evergreen relevance speaks to the current indulgence in a romanticised view in entertainment today. Surely, we can all admit that Shakespeare’s pitting of ‘the womaniser’ against ‘the yearner’ or the coming together of neat pairings synonymous with a happy ending are all too familiar and all the more desired – so indulge why don’t you?
**** Four stars
Reviewed by: Louisa Clarke
