The Mac Weekly

Issue date: 4/25/08 Section: The Arts

Media Credit: Guthrie Theater Titania and Oberon in Titania's fairy hideout on the Guthrie stage.

It's a good thing that Shakespeare is dead. "Blasphemy," you cry, clutching your leather-bound anthology. But there are reasons for this outlandish statement: one, directors who take on Shakespeare's plays have unlimited creative license, and two, William isn't around to witness the mistakes these directors inevitably make with said creative license. As all sixteen-year-old drivers know, getting a license doesn't mean you won't have an accident.

Shakespeare's beloved comedy, "A Midsummer Night's Dream," is currently onstage at the Guthrie, one of the many nationally acclaimed theaters in the Twin Cities. Director Joe Dowling's production has had a successful ten-year run, and for good reasons-it is brilliant, from the set design to the acting. However, updating Shakespeare is a risky business, and while Dowling almost pulls it off, I can hear Billy moaning, though quietly, in his grave.

A considerable number of us Mac Weekly staffers have been in a production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" at some point in our childhood (For me, it was in fifth grade, and I played Cobweb the fairy.), and often perceptions of literature and theater are colored by early experiences with the text in question. So maybe the production's modern setting turned me off because my fifth grade production was set in ancient Athens-or maybe "A Midsummer Night's Dream" just shouldn't take place in the 21st century, no matter how talented the director.

To be fair, the contemporary time period setting manifests itself almost exclusively in costume choices, but this doesn't mean the time frame is minimized. Theseus and Hippolyta, the presiding Athenian royalty, seem more like president and first lady, constantly flocked by Secret Service men sporting black suits and earpieces. Hermia wears a 1960s-style brocade dress; Helena, a skirt suit. Demetrius, Hermia's betrothed, wears a military uniform while her true love, Lysander, looks sloppy in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. Frankly, it's a little weird.

Even weirder is Dowling's crossing of the boundary between musical theater and non-musical theater. One would think a Shakespeare play has no room for song and dance breaks, but think again. Dowling's cast sings, shimmys and-sit down for this one-they rap. At least they attempt to rap. Not weird enough for you? One song near the end of the play sounds like a church hymn.

Continued...

Page 1 of 2 next >

Article Tools