One of the hardest tasks facing the reviewer of any touring production of a major hit is finding something original to say: When a production reaches Oxford that has wowed New Delhi and Stratford (not to mention Chalk Farm), the critic’s lot is not an easy one. What Dash Arts’ staging of A Midsmummer Night’s Dream affirms, however, more than anything else, is the fantastic pluralism of Shakespeare, and leaves one thinking, to grope elsewhere in the canon for a fitting sentiment, whether this could be a brave new world for plays and playgoers in Britain that will be seen more and more as our society further diversifies.
With almost every character speaking multiple languages, there is less Shakespeare in this 'Dream' than another. The loss of some of the language of the play detracts a little from the joy of seeing familiar, often-performed Shakespearean comedy, but it could be argued that this is a deficiency only in a largely monolingual mindset. Multilingual drama, the production notes stress, is not something that Indian audiences are used to despite their nation’s twenty-two official languages. This play’s multilingualism is a modelling of a harmonious co-existence of tongues that does not exist in an India where languages are deeply tied up with political sentiment. Non-familiarity with particular individual Indian languages might leave an audience member wanting to know why some characters converse in Hindi, some in Tamil, some in Malayalam, but equally it might well add to the magic of the production, and also to its progressiveness. There is surely no-one in any audience able to follow every single one of the languages in the way that the modern urbanite cannot hope to comprehend every overheard conversation, or to converse with each person they meet in a day in that person’s own mother tongue.
The set by Sumant Jayakrishnan gives more than a slight nod to Sally Jacobs’ white walls, swings and trapezes for Peter Brook’s 1970 production at the RSC. The way Tim Supple and his choreographers move the company around it, however, does not recall Alan Howard and the rest of Brook’s company lazing around staring at one another,. Rather, this company use and abuse their space punchily and sexily, with Archana Ramaswamy’s Hippolyta and Titania running, twirling, snarling and climbing her way to a standout performance. With a Hoxton fin, Ajay Kumar’s Puck spends very little time off stage, something in his red loincloth giving one both the India of technicolour cinema and the brash sensuality of the burlesque. Indeed, these two analogies would further serve to characterize the production as a whole, with colour, chaos, noise, and fun replacing much of what the loss of some of Shakspeare’s language takes away.
