Review: THT REP'S SHARP, SHIMMERING MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

The deep humanity of Shakespeare's characters has often been enriched by revisiting them in new stagings. The Hanover Theatre Repertory is not the first to set A Midsummer Night's Dream in a dance club, but their powerfully realized, thoughtfully sculpted, and beautifully acted production is at once accessible and illuminating, and well worth a road trip to Worcester.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare's comedic masterpiece from 1595, is one of his most frequently staged works. But director Dr. Kathryn Moncrief (a WPI professor and Shakespeare scholar) has found a delightful sweet spot at the intersection of spectacle and substance. Working with associate director and dramaturg Dr. Sarah Lucie, they have adapted  Shakespeare's text to meet a very particular moment. 

Set in a queer-coded 1985 nightclub called "The Wood" that lives in a  NYC imaginary somewhere between Limelight and The Duplex, the show retains the original language (smartly trimmed), plays its visual concept to the hilt (think: yuppies versus punk), and ends with the best “Pyramus and Thisbe” play-within-a-play this reviewer has seen. 

The plot is likely familiar. In a Wall Street "Athens" defined by patriarchy and power ties, Theseus (Jake Berger, in a commanding performance) and Hippolyta (a charmingly haughty Janis Hudson) plan their wedding and seek to enforce the status quo when campaign donor Egea (a determined Alexa Cadete) begs for their help in policing her daughter's romantic life.

Hermia loves (the gender swapped) Lysandra while her mother insists she marry the straight arrow Demetrius (Ian Kramer totally nails a period-accurate master of the universe with a pocket full of coke.) Stella Chinchilla and Giselle as the lovers Hermia and Lysandra have a powerful chemistry and their scenes are touching and deeply honest. Meanwhile, Helena (a complex role handled with aplomb by Gillian Mariner-Gordon) is smitten with Demetrius and spills the tea on the pair's plans to seek sanctuary in The Wood, which sets the action in motion.

Meanwhile, in the nightclub, Shakespeare's "Rude Mechanicals" (here the bar staff) are working up their Pyramus and Thisbe floor show. John Tracey's "Quince" is a delight as the director who struggles to contain the fractious energies of their "cast," Flute/Thisbe (a pitch-perfect Mitra Sharif), Snug/Lion (an endearing Maxwell Caraballo) and Snout/Wall (Daisy Jane Birch, whose Wall business is inspired). Playing Bottom/Pyramus is Teddy Lytle, in a tour-de-force of exquisitely calibrated scenery chomping that totally nails Shakespeare's critique of self-important actors.)

Overseeing the club are the fairies Oberon and Titania, played with panache and passion by Equiano Mosieri and Meri Stypinski. They have a testy authenticity that makes their domestic dispute scenes crackle. The moments of Titania's enchantment and Oberon's remorseful reconciliation are beautifully handled.

The enchantment reaches its zenith when Oberon’s fixer, Puck (an utterly delightful Livy Scanlon, whizzing around on wheelie sneakers) uses magic makeup to redirect the lovers' desires. A mixup leads to both Lysandra and Demetrius pursuing Helena, while Titania falls in love with Bottom, whom Puck has converted into a reverse centaur (with a skeletal wire mask that evokes both Equus and bondage fantasies).

Gone is Titania’s oft-quoted line about "purging thy mortal grossness"; in the production's most transgressive pivot, Titania leads Bottom off on a leash, as her groupies (Kyle Hargrove, Ginny Hill, and Alyssa Morales) watch adoringly. 

When morning comes to The Wood and the right lovers are re-paired, Theseus and Hippolyta appear (in sweats and note-perfect Jane Fonda workout gear) to re-establish discipline, leaving the lovers to wonder if their night in a temporary autonomous zone was a dream.

Which brings us to Pyramus and Thisbe. Often a dead weight in productions, here it is a riotous comic gem, precisely sculpted for an  afterparty. Daisy Jane Birch, as Wall, delivers deadpan brilliance as Lyle and Sharif attempt to smooch through a tiny gap. It’s pure absurdist stagecraft, but it totally works. Maxwell Caraballo has a charming moment as he steps downstage, gently raises the mask, and reassures the audience he's not a real lion. The bit is played for laughs, sure, but it also reminds us of the proto-Brechtian nature of the work. Is there any theatrical trope that Shakespeare didn't invent? And Teddy Lytle's manic Pyramus is a gold mine of pure unhinged theatrical id. It's exhausting just watching him (in the best possible way...).

And then comes the final enchantment. As Puck delivers the closing lines and invites the audience to "give me your hands," three mirror balls overhead ignite, and the open semi-circle of the stage transforms into a pulsing dance floor. Cast members walk into the house and beckon audience down. The play doesn't end so much as dissolve into a disco—a final invitation to abandon decorum, step into the light, and join the dream.

The production doesn’t belabor its references, but it rewards close watching. Characters flash black bandanas (a nod to 1980s West Village hanky code), and even the bar logo (stenciled on the Rude Mechanical's garments) subtly reinforces the theme. The gender-fluid casting (most notably in changing Lysander to Lysandra) updates the play's tangled affections without making it feel like a stunt. Peter M. Rule's set design — a bar, some couches, a floor painted with graffiti and knock-off Harings, and a row of two-tops with the audience seated inches from the action — pulls the viewer into the spell. As do Rule's meticulously visualized costumes. The lighting by Laura J. Eckelman is precisely executed, especially the magical freeze effects. Christi Dionis's makeup explores the full range from flat Wall Street pancake to full-on fairy fantasy. Scott O'Brien's sound design is unobtrusive but powerful, with some standout moments like Puck's highly directional little hand-held speaker.

This is an intensely smart production that has dug into Shakespeare's text to find its DNA and mutated it just enough to make it sing in the same key as the 1980s soundtrack that threads through the show. Add an outstanding ensemble cast and crisp and insightful direction, and this is a truly magical evening guaranteed to enchant both newcomers to the Bard's work and long-time fans. It's a production that respects the text, recharges the magic, and trusts the audience to dance with both. Highly recommended.

A Midsummer Night's Dream, by William Shakespeare, directed by Dr. Kathryn M. Moncrief. At The Hanover Theatre Rep's BrickBox, 20 Franklin St., Worcester, MA. Jan 31-Feb 14.