Summary 
Set in Greco-Roman times with togas and sandals, armored centurions, and hempen homespuns in straw-and-cloth clothing, the production features a large cast in a huge theatre. Emphasis on gentle comedy: the four lovers and the mechanicals are meticulously directed with an array of amusing flourishes, and the fairy world is depicted with a strong musicality. Excellent Greek dance conclusion amid floating bubbles. Myriad directorial flourishes would have benefited from a more intimate staging.
Design
Directed by Richard Monette and Paul Leishman. Set by Teresa Przybylski. Lights by Michael Whitfield. Sound by Keith Handegord. Original music by Don Horsburgh. Choreography by Valerie Moore.
Cast
Jonathan Goad (Theseus), Diane D'Aquila (Hippolyta), John Gilbert (Egeus), Melinda Deines (Hermia), Graham Abbey (Lysander), Martin Albert (Demetrius), Michelle Giroux (Helena), Brian Bedford (Bottom), Juan Chioran (Oberon), Seana McKenna (Titania), Jordan Pettle (Puck).
Analysis
Richard Monette's cast of twenty-nine for a A Midsummer Night's Dream swarms the expansive Festival Theatre stage. Monette begins the play with a literal flash of fire from a center-stage flash-pot, then the dramatic fire from the infuriated Egeus. The Athenians are attired in Greco-Roman toga-like robes, replete with white headbands and sandals that wrap around their calves. Egeus's fury is later mirrored by Oberon, who towers over Puck and his fairies, barking commands with vehement displeasure.
Michelle Giroux's bravura portrayal of Helena brims with confidence and dynamic stage presence. The typically demure, bookworm Helena displays fiery, almost Irish spirit - complete with flowing auburn hair - and a physical as well as inner beauty. Giroux's star-turn begins as she punctuates Lysander's and Hermia's announcement of their elopement plans with a vociferous blow into her ever-present handkerchief.
When Demetrius enters via a comic leap from the gallery in 2.1 - with a comic sound effect of "boing" that seems to pursue him - the radiant Helena follows. Demetrius, clad as a centurion in breastplate, helmet, sword, and shield, pursues Hermia as if waging a military campaign. Helena chases upon his footsteps, and she bares a thigh for him, embraces him from behind with her legs splaying out behind her, and dances excitedly in place. When she implores him to "use me but as your spaniel," she behaves like an over-excited puppy, bouncing about on hands and knees and giving a yelping "bark." Giroux's hyper-animation reaches a crescendo when she crouches and refuses to let go of kill-courtesy Demetrius' hand. His attempts to break free result in her leaping like a frog until they both fall backward, at which point she mounts him and beats his armored chest with her fists, making an ironic point that she "cannot fight for love."
Lysander and Hermia also contribute to the manic comic chemistry. When the spellbound Lysander first sees Helena in 2.2, his mouth drops open and he crouches and swivels his hips in carnal infatuation. His comment that he can "see" Helena's heart prompts Giroux to clutch and conceal her bosom. He even dives headlong across the stage in a desperate sprawl for her affection. Later, in 3.2, Lysander kneels behind Helena, who is preoccupied with her approaching cat-fight with Hermia, and he kisses her fingers individually before she stops him with an impatient slap of his hand. Similarly, Hermia fends off advances from Demetrius by beating him with her rag-doll - although he deftly blocks the blows with his battle shield - then felling him with a kick between the legs. Later, the desperate Hermia leaps upon Lysander's back and clings to him while he struggles to shake her loose, and she later approaches Helena with the swagger of a wrestler. She shows her nails and leaps in attack, but Lysander and Demetrius intercept her in mid-air. The two suitors then exit "cheek by jowl" for single combat with their faces stupidly pressed against each other.
A playful Puck is a sprite whose mistakes are not the result of being mischievous or malevolent so much as they are the result of sheer puppy-dog exuberance and eagerness to please. Puck responds to Oberon's commands with feline grace and canine glee, at one point even barking in excitement. He makes his first appearance as "stars" light the theatre's upper elevation and reflect prettily upon the stage. A sliver of yellow moon emerges from a center stage trap and slowly rises into the "sky." Puck appears in the gallery beneath the moon, and, after his benign 2.1 interaction with the first fairy, she sings to him, "Over Hill, Over Dale."
Puck and all the woodland denizens are clad in a camouflage blend of dark blues and greens, and they move in bare feet, with frizzed and sparkled hair, make-up enhanced eyes, and feline face paint. Amid lightning and thunder, Oberon struts angrily onstage behind his minions, who pound the stage with their spears. After the confrontation with Titania, Puck crawls up to perch upon the towering Oberon's shoulders to await a command.
Monette employs original music to good effect, utilizing the strong musical theatre capabilities of his cast. When Titania prepares to rest in 2.2 - just before Puck emerges from a center stage trap to cast the spell upon her - her fairies croon "Sing Me to Sleep" and wrap her in silk and a robe of leaves, and at the end of their conflict, Oberon and Titania share a romantic dance while serenaded by the fairies.
In spite of Oberon's anger, the fairy world is consistently playful. Puck appears from a tiny door far above the gallery next to the "moon" to "throw" the love-in-idleness magical flowers to Oberon, and the fairies dance with glee while waving their fronds to conceal the lovers from one another - at one point hiding a wooden post into which Demetrius charges headlong ("boing," again) and at another fanning the air around Lysander so his toga rises up like a woman's skirt in an impish breeze.
The blithering Bottom leads homespuns who are literally hempen, wearing garments made from strands of yellow straw-like rope. They arrive onstage in 1.2 in a flurry of activity, wheeling wooden carts and carrying backpacks, pouches, crates and baskets of fruit. Their interaction is composed of the usual audience pleasing antics, like Bottom's malapropisms - "we rehearse most obscenely" - Flute's terrible breath, and Snug the Lion's script simply reading, "roar."
Monette's meticulously directed production approaches its conclusion with Theseus and Hippolyta, seated upon pillows and holding goblets of wine, hosting the united lovers. The dreadful entertainment from the mechanicals is imbued with amusing touches, even in its Prologue, with Starveling's toy dog on a leash that must be swung over the audience's heads to be removed from the stage, Bottom forgetting his sword, and Snout's bashful but pleased smile at "O lovely wall." The play itself is a delightful disaster, highlighted by Snug's roar and leap that inadvertently tramples and beheads Starveling's toy dog. Starveling's boyish distress, and his dangling leash with just a furry dog head, win the largest laughs of the performance, as he hides his saddened face behind his paper moon.
In the finale, Brian Bedford's scene-stealing Bottom, on his knees, accidentally bends his "sword" in half, and unable to impale himself, he must ad-lib, so he strangles himself with Thisby's kerchief. As he expires, he waves his hand to the court, who wave back with bemusement. Thisby throws herself upon Bottom's chest, nearly doubling Bedford over, and when she throws her head back in anguish, her curly wig flies completely off. Finally, when Flute fails to find Bottom's weapon ("come, trusty sword"), the supposedly deceased lover hands it to him, while also squirming to avoid his foul breath.
The play within a play garners spontaneous applause, and the Athenians celebrate with traditional Greek dancing in a large circle, as they break plates, wave scarves, and exuberantly shout "opa!" This kind-hearted production then concludes with all the fairies gathered in the gallery, each holding small lights, to sing "Break of Day," and, as tiny bubbles drift down from above upon the three newly wedded couples, Puck delivers his apology and "blows out" the moon. A successful entertainment within the enormous Festival Theatre, the abundant array of directorial flourishes in this production would have been spectacular within a more intimate space.
Note: A version of this article was edited and published in Shakespeare Bulletin, Vol.18, No.2, Spring 2000.