PERFORMANCE & COMEDY

Tobacco Factory, Bristol (21-26 Nov)

THEATRE All in favour of settling down for an evening of our favourite beardy bard’s marathon of misunderstandings on the riverbank: say aye. All those in the mood to be sprayed with 90 minutes of Shakespeare purist repellent: get in. The Filter Theatre/Lyric Hammersmith production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ follows their acclaimed interpretation of ‘Twelfth Night’ and turns the Tobacco Factory into a deserted studio awaiting a bunch of muso slackers. We are, says Peter Quince – brilliantly pitched by Ed Gaughan somewhere between prologue and stand-up comedy – in ancient Athens, whose sexually liberated citizens makes it “a bit like Brighton without the annoying media types”. We’re introduced to The London Snorkelling Team house band, a ‘guest star’ playing Bottom and a cast of 11 who remain on stage throughout as though in rehearsal. So we watch them watching us watch a play within a play (within a play – they keep adding layers of metatheatre).

Yet, despite occasions where, in aiming for a symbiosis of music and language, the text inevitably becomes a distraction for the excellent sound design, it’s clear that Filter knows how to deliver a quality line. What ferocious editing makes the play lose in lyricism, the bold presentation makes up for in spirit. There’s a charm about the four young lovers struggling with the fictions of romantic complications, showing how “the course of true love never did run smooth”. It’s an ensemble piece but there are stand-outs: Ferdy Roberts’s Puck cleverly walks the line between mischievous imp and prurient reality audience member. There’s excellent comic timing from Jonathan Broadbent, playing Oberon as Austin Powers superhero. With asthma.

Director Sean Holmes scatters inventive touches throughout, with walkie-talkie dialogue, a video game duel, full-on food fight and fnar-fnar Bottom slapstick. Where the controlled chaos works best is in the mash-up of musical styles, from doo-wap and shouty rock to cheesy funk, as the effects of fairy (liquid) juice result in Glasto tent and wellies love-ins.

Still, the whole thing may have been nought but a dream. Hey, maybe Shakespeare didn’t even write it! Maybe he came out of the shower and realised he’d been the Welsh one out of ‘Notting Hill’ all along. Either way, in showing the transformative power of imagination and love, it’s a play whose timeless themes we all own. Oh, and in case you’re sticking with the three-hour version, reserve judgement until you’ve seen the dying Pyramus as a rock and roll donkey in a fat suit, in the longest and most bravely judged stage pause you’re likely to snigger through. Get in. (Kerry Hood)  

Copyright Kerry Hood 2011