2008
The cast of A Midsummer Night's Dream 'don't so much take the stage as invade the theatre, spilling in through the auditorium in a frenzy'.
A Midsummer Night's Dream Peacock Theatre, Dublin When the line comes, it is delivered with the over-familiarity of a cliché, a shrugging understanding that the words have been said several thousand times already: "The course of true love never did run smooth." In National Youth Theatre's ferociously energetic production, that's putting it mildly. But Barry Morgan's reading, as Athenian bad boy Lysander, reveals another layer of this production's wit. Here it is desire, more than love, that rages like an ungovernable torrent. György Vidovszky's production, full of sound and fury and signifying quite a number of things, recognises that even a play as fun and frantic as A Midsummer Night's Dream can be shaken up and made anew with youthful vigour. That's why the cast - drawn from several youth theatres under the aegis of the National Association of Youth Drama - don't so much take the stage as invade the theatre, spilling in through the auditorium in a frenzy. Or why they reverberate with the spiky sexual politics of the play more than its fantasy, making almost every coupling an act of violent force or subjugation. Even Mary-Rose Phipps, as a sort of mall-punk Puck, is sexualised and subversive, while the union of Brian Devaney's road-warrior Theseus and Róisín Watson's otherworldly Hippolyta is achieved only by means of sturdy restraints and a burlap sack. The stage picture, under Eamon Fox's iridescent lights, may be beautiful, but the dream could shatter into a nightmare at any second. Just as Diego Pitarch's design, equal parts elegance and decay, preserves the framework of a demolished house but hollows out a liberated centre, so the play gets similar treatment. The verse and tangled desires of Hermia, Lysander, Demetrius and Helena - a love quadrangle further complicated by fairy intervention - remain a protected structure, but there is more than a touch of extended Saturday morning improv to the renovated prose of the hapless rude mechanicals: "We don't need the original text, Nick," Quince tells Bottom. "F**k the purists." Shakespeare certainly allows for such self-mocking gestures, but these scenes are less successful precisely because the play wasn't that pure to begin with. Characters such as Roxanna Nic Liam's masochistic Helena are spurred on by rejection ("The more you beat me, the more I will fawn on you") but horrified by reciprocation; lovers become enemies in a heartbeat; desire is fickle and instantaneous; the moment of consummation is profoundly awkward. Any similarity to adolescence is entirely intentional. And although the stage abounds with apples (the semiotician's go-to device for forbidden longing), all that wild energy finally succumbs, rather sweetly and conservatively, to a low-lit snog-a-thon . . . How do you like them apples? Ends Sat
PETER CRAWLEY
Irish Theatre Magazin
A Midsummer Night's Dream
Reviewed 30 August
By Victoria White
It shouldn't surprise that the National Youth Theatre breathed fresh life into Shakespeare's great comedy. Romance and sexual longing are specialities of the young, after all. But it did surprise. And that's because of the accretions of culture, history, reverence and endless other productions with which almost any middle-aged theatre-goer will approach the play.
The National Youth Theatre, under György Vidovszky's direction, stripped them all away. We faced Diego Pitarch's bare set, with a chandelier and an old dresser. Eamon Fox's lighting suggested the aftermath of a blitz, or Dublin as she used to look before the Tiger.
Hippolyta is dragged in, bound and gagged. She speaks no English. Ah hold on, thinks middle-aged Mammy, they're over-punking this. Ah hold on, Mammy. Look at the script: "Hippolyta, I wooed thee with my sword/And won thy love doing thee injuries", announces Theseus.
This production hinged on the tension between love as power, and love as longing. No other production I have seen has so firmly sketched in the patriarchal power that constrained love and stabilised society in Shakespeare's time. All productions make hay with the anarchy of sexual longing, the love potion arbitrarily dripped on the sleeping eyes. But this one brilliantly explored the tension between this desire and power, so clearly shown in the opening scenes with Egeus insisting his daughter Hemia must marry Demetrius, although the man she favours is agreed by all to be just as worthy. "As she is mine," he states, "I may dispose of her."
Brian Devaney as Theseus enunciated badly, which was a shame. Overall the lords and lovers were a delight, particularly Barry Whelan's fogey-like Demetrius and Roxanna Nic Liam's amazing Helena, getting off her wedges to trot after Demetrius like a dog. Never before has the shock of the expression of the young woman's longing been so clear – and the social upheaval it would have caused in a society which pretended it did not exist. Shakespeare was obviously and actively exploring the explosive power of liberating women.
Vidovszky bravely took liberties with the "Rude Mechanicals", but his liberties were carefully taken. The Mechanicals speak in prose and in a very real way are not part of the poetry of the play. They can depart from the script with impunity. And they did, to hilarious effect.
Vidovszky gave us a band of amateur actors, with a scarf-and-tantrum-throwing director, played brilliantly by Barry Lenihan. Lutz Biedinger's Bottom, with swinging golden tresses and boiler suit, was incredibly funny; his leaping, swooning, rearing death scene as Pyramus had the audience bent double with laughter. And when you read the text you feel something like Biedinger's performance was what Shakespeare had in mind when he wrote, "Now die, die, die, die, die."
Luke Naessen's Francis Flute was a perfect creation, the mild camp overcoming the initial unwillingness to play Thisbe. And as for Kiefer Moriarty-Short's Wall, the blank gaze suddenly breaking into a smile when the Wall was moved to wave to someone in the audience – I wasn't the only one who was nearly sick with laughter. And again, the brickwork painted on his face which seems such a funny novelty, is clearly suggested by Bottom in the text: "And let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him…"
The Budapest-based Vidovszky, who has long experience of working with young people, clearly communicated this text quite brilliantly to these young actors. The precision and daring of their movements – such as Lysander's leap onto Hermia's maidenly woodland bed – was notable. His trademark here were the pauses he forced at times between speeches, which pointed to the tension between words and the sexual longing that the play was all about. However, at times this affected the pace.
Wonderful sound effects, such as the fairy music played on triangles, were provided by sound designer Samuel Gryllus, while Eszter Gyevi-Bíró choreographed the movement.
A Midsummer Night's Dream
By William Shakespeare
National Youth Theatre
Directed by György Vidovszky
Set and Costume Design: Diego Pitarch
Lighting Design: Eamon Fox
Sound Design: Samuel Gryllus
Choreography: Eszter Gyevi-Bíró
With: Lutz Biedinger, Kevin Corcoran, Alan Dalton, Brian Devaney, Barry Lenihan, Eoin Lennon, Mary-Louise McCarthy, Christina Matthews, Barry Morgan, Kiefer Moriarty-Short, Gráinne Moriarty, Katherine Murphy, Luke Naessens, Roxanna Nic Liam, Jessica O'Driscoll-Breen, Mary Rose Phipps, Paul Tansey, Roisín Watson, Barry Whelan, Darren Yorke.
Peacock Theatre, Dublin
25 – 30 August 2008
Victoria White is a journalist based in Dublin.