A Midsummer Night’s Dream meets Love Island in this Fringe favourite
This perennial favourite pops up every year – and for good reason. Devised by the in-house creatives at the C Arts venue, it peppers The Bard’s seasoned works with irreverence, humour – and pastries!
On arrival, grab coffee and a croissant to enjoy as you take your seat (and you might want to get there early for your pick of both). Sit back and relax as you hope to be eased gently into a day of theatrical delights – but the instant hit of high-octane chat may work as well as a cold shower to get you going.
This year, the team reworks A Midsummer Night’s Dream: an audience-pleaser if ever there was one. The plot is all one might hope from a Shakespeare comedy, following the tangled lives of four young lovers – Hermia has rejected Demetrius for Lysander and they run away, pursued by Demetrius who in turn is pursued by his own rejected and desperate lover, Helena.
The fairy king, Oberon, tries to neaten the tangle to form two couples, but his deputy Puck’s love potion causes both men to fall in love with Helena, now leaving Hermia desperate. Meanwhile, Oberon uses the same love potion to play a trick on his queen, Titania, making her fall in love with Bottom, the most foolish member of a theatrical troupe – who, for good measure, Puck transforms into an ass.
Things in the C Arts performance kick off with some buoyantly meta back-and-forth, introducing the players as they deliberate over how to present the show. In the end, their decision is to format the play as a dating show in the vein of Love Island (or, as they’re careful to say, ‘Lusty Mainland’).
All parts are taken by members of the four-strong cast, with roles differentiated partly by basic costume changes but most effectively by the cast members’ charismatic, chameleon-like characterisations.
Uncontrived modern speech is intermixed with original and comically pseudo Shakespearian flourishes, always appropriate to how sardonic or flamboyant speech needs to be, which does a great job of ensuring no one in the audience is alienated by the language (particularly useful at breakfast time).
Particularly pleasing moments were delivered by the interludes in which Bottom’s theatrical troupe (still our own four thespians) pour onto the stage. They frenetically advertise a clearly laughable show in a way familiar to anyone who’s walked down the Royal Mile this month.
My only problem, really, is how thorny the premise of the play is in the current climate. While the comparison to structured-reality TV does a pretty good job of negotiating the inherent issues of interference and manipulation, there really isn’t a good way of brushing over chemically induced consent. The production does give a nod to this and, in its own way, also comments by presenting the ‘potion’ in the guise of drinks. There are contexts in which this could certainly be better explored – but this (understandably) isn’t one of them.
What we get instead is a fun, family-friendly bounce through the play, with plenty of knowing nods and lots of laughs. If you’re up and about as early as 10, there aren’t many better ways to start a day at the festival. I, at least, have never been at the Fringe without attending a performance – and I don’t expect that to change.
Shakespeare for Breakfast at C Arts Aurora until 27 August
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