Look/Listen

Remember Shakespeare purists? Those folks who would go all frothy at the scent of an updating of the unassailable Bard? Thankfully these spoilsports are a rarity, off darning the suede patches on the elbows of their tweed jackets somewhere. Equally endangered is the self-congratulatory modernizer—you know, the producer/director who feels himself quite the rogue for staging Timon of Athens in a post-apocalyptic kebab house. Nowadays, we're so inured to re-imaginings of time and place in productions of Shakespeare that the old tights-and-doublets route might seem the most problematic and controversial approach one might take. Do we attire Romeo and Juliet in Elizabethan dress? Medieval Italian dress? Some historically accurate Elizabethan misinterpretation of Medieval Italian dress? The truth is, given that the continued relevance of the work lies in its timelessness and universality of theme, no wonder we've simply come to accept that era and garb are, like casting, simply choices in the production grab-bag.

That mouthful espoused, suffice it to say that The Black Rep reached into that grab-bag and pulled out a gem—or, a mirrored disco-ball—by staging A Midsummer Night's Dream in the '70s, or at least in the halcyon, funked-out, groovalicious '70s of collective cultural nostalgia. Set atop a bumpin' soundtrack from the era, heavily featuring my beloved Funkadelic and Parliament, Shakespeare's mystic tale of love misdirected and fractious faeries seems to fit like the snug, low-slung hips of a pair of paisley elephant flares.

To synopsize briefly (word-check informs me I'm coining that word, so hands off!): Hermia (Courtney Brown) loves Lysander (Chauncey Thomas) who well loves her back. Hermia's dad, Egeus (Chad Morris) has promised her to Demetrius (Anthony Peeples), who quite digs the idea. Demetrius is pursued by Helena (Patrese D. McClain), whom he digs not. All this while Duke Theseus (Robert Mitchell) plans to grandly celebrate his own nuptials with Hippolyta (Monica Parks). Theseus decrees that Egeus' will supersedes love, thus it's Hermia plus Demetrius or else. Oh, and there are the faeries, of course, King Oberon (Mitchell again) and his estranged wife Titania (hello, again, Ms. Parks), rowing over her refusal to hand over a beloved servant-boy to her king, in one of those curious old-world conceits that we just have to get over for continuity's sake. (This synopsis gets less brief by the second!) MEANWHILE: A band of the town's laborers—traditionally known as “The Mechanicals”—set themselves about presenting a play (Pyramus and Thisbe, the base material for Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet) for the Duke's wedding celebration, and hilarity ensues. Oberon has seen Demetrius' cruel spurning of Helena, and so orders his main man Puck (Daniel D. Hodges) to put the whammy on the fella to make him love the girl—surprise, Puck gets the wrong fella, now Lysander's gotta have Helena. Oberon also dispatches Puck to wham-ify his Queen to fall in love with the first thing she sees after her nap, that being one of the rude mechanicals, Bottom (Matthew Galbreath), whom Puck has deigned to fit with the head of an ass. How will this all work out? Well, brush up your Shakespeare. The rule is that in a tragedy everyone dies and in a comedy everyone gets married. Spoiler: no corpses.

So how's the show? Overall, splendid. The set, which serves as all locales, is simple and effective. A jungle-gym type apparatus sit among drooping swags of fabric evoking Spanish moss, quite ethereal and faerie-foresty, especially when that disco-ball starts spinning. If ever there was a Shakespeare play that allowed room for unbridled hamming and scenery-chewing, it's Midsummer, but director Chris Anthony shows a good sense of pace and timing. The mechanicals get room to provide the screwball slapstick their scenes intend, and they make exceptional use of their leeway, most notable Galbreath, an actor of obvious comic chops whom one imagines could steal focus from backstage, and Ryan Cunningham, who milks every possible Python-esque guffaw out of his drag performance. Only in the protracted scenes of post-faerie-dust discord among the four young lovers did I feel the reins could have been tighter. If a sequence kicks off with yelling, it's not long before the emotional ceiling has been hit and things tend to plateau. By the fourth or fifth time we see the very modern “you wanna go” physicalities in the same drawn-out exchange, urgency has been lost. Oh, and across the board, some ad-libs took me right out of the game in their striking modern-ness. A couple provided pretty good chuckles, but that's a bit of a Shakespeare no-no for me,

The period works for, not against or alongside (worse!) the action, drawing the audience in and holding us there. A clever choice: Oberon's supporting band of faeries are appointed in boots, garish colors and shades, à la Parliament/Funkadelic, backing up Oberon's rhyme-schemes with appropriate bass-heavy beats, while Titania's entourage are decked out like the Supremes, cooing the backing vocals to “Ain't No Mountain High Enough” as she enters and exits.

Of course, as with any production, some actors handle Shakespeare with particular aplomb, period and setting be damned, while others seem to go through the motions. Of particular note is Chauncey Thomas, who seems born to speak the words of the Bard. His voice is rich of timbre, his enunciation flawless, while fully committed and believable in his character's wants and motivations. Standing right alongside him on the medal platform is Patrese D. McClain, who has so fully absorbed the full meaning of every word of the text she utters, it feels effortless, contemporary, sassy and natural. I've rarely heard Shakespeare sound more at home in an updated performance or delivery. Quick question: when will these two square off as Petruchio and Katherina in Taming of The Shrew? Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado? Just throwing that out there.

The Black Rep continues a now well-established and rich tradition of re-imagining the Shakespearean canon through costume and staging. Faithful to the end to the original material, they've presented a lively, often hilarious, always magical production, so (ahem) git down, git down to the Grandel Square Theatre this weekend. You're gonna have a funky good time.