A Bonkers Caravan of Love: Celebrating the Mechanicals in A Midsummer Night’s Dream @ Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre and The Bridge Theatre
It is a peculiar Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre tradition: no matter what the play, the cast will close down the action with a (usually) cheery jig. Lucy Bailey’s Titus Andronicus at the Globe (2006 and 2014) saw Titus lead the cast in an animated conga across the stage and around the yard — notwithstanding the fact that most of the characters at that point were dead! The modern Globe jigs nod to the original Globe tradition of frequently satirical dramatic ballads and jigs following the main production, a tradition updated by Mark Rylance during his years as artistic director. It is now expected that modern Globe productions will be followed by a company jig that riffs off themes of the play, closing down the production with a joyous moment that brings together the audience and company and acknowledges the experience they have shared.¹
The unintended (or should that be intended?) consequence of a post-show jig is that an audience — 700 of which have been standing for around three hours — join in with keen clapping that gives way to enthusiastic applause and cheer: the actors get a louder, rowdier reception, and the villains get a chance to share in the adoration.²
I found it fascinating this summer when the productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at both the Globe and the Bridge Theatre afforded Pyramus and Thisbe, and by extension the mechanicals, this same honour of a participatory jig — elevating the status of the play within the play. Earlier this week, Ben considered the way in which the conclusion to the mechanicals’ performance of Pyramus and Thisbe has at times been altered from clownish comedy to something with pathos and depth, and the impact this has upon these productions overall.
At the Globe, Sean Holmes’s Pyramus and Thisbe closed with a high-octane cover version of the 1985 Isley-Jasper-Isley song ‘Caravan of Love’ (although my cultural reference, and likely that of many other audience members, is the Housemartins’ 1986 cover version). Quince (Nadine Higgin) led the audience in an enthusiastic singalong. A number of critical reviews refer errantly to ‘Caravan of Love’ closing the show… but it didn’t.³ The production’s final jig was to an arrangement of the Buzzcocks’ ‘Ever Fallen In Love’ — a clear reference to the underlying themes of Dream with characters falling in love where they shouldn’t. However, singing along happily to ‘Caravan of Love’ with my friends in the yard during the final performance will be one of my lasting memories of the production. Given the joyous audience response, you could have easily believed that this was the curtain call for the wider production rather than just the mechanicals’ performance.
Similarly, Nick Hytner’s Dream at the Bridge Theatre offered two jigs. The end of Pyramus and Thisbe saw the mechanicals joined by the lovers and Theseus (Oliver Chris) in a high-energy dance routine to Dizzee Rascal’s ‘Bonkers’. As Ronan notes in his commentary on the use of Beyoncé, Hytner used the performance of Pyramus and Thisbe to allow for a moment of recognition between Theseus and Bottom (Hammed Animashaun), alluding to more than merely parallels between Theseus and Oberon (also Chris). The final jig was a return to Beyoncé’s ‘Love on Top’, the anthem of Bottom and Oberon’s love, offering an interesting parallel when played in the context of a wedding dance as this jig was played in Hytner’s Dream.
I wonder whether the interactive nature of both the Globe and the Bridge plays a part in this elevation of the mechanicals? In traditional proscenium arch theatre, the audience sits quietly and watches. The ongoing commentary of the lovers during Pyramus and Thisbe therefore references some other form of theatre — one in which we, the modern audience, are not participating. As Ben notes, Dominic Hill’s production of Dream at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre placed the lovers in the audience, but the unnecessarily aggressive comments and criticism they aimed at the mechanicals seemed harsh and encouraged judgment of, rather than identification with, the lovers.
Contrastingly, in Hytner’s production, Theseus shut down any mocking of the mechanicals, frequently ‘shushing’ Demetrius. Theseus’s much changed commentary was unwaveringly positive and self-consciously drew parallels to the wider production. His reply of ‘it’s immersive’ to Lysander’s complaint about flashlights shining in his eyes drew a laugh from an audience in the pit that had been manhandled and corralled for the preceding three hours. Similarly, the mechanicals breaking the fourth wall to address the lovers directly did not seem that out of place in a production where there had been high levels of audience interaction.
There were similar devices in play at the Globe where an audience member played Starveling (credited in the programme as ‘one of you’), and Jocelyn Jee Esien’s Bottom engaged the groundlings in extensive conversation. Furthermore, when called forth by Higgin’s Quince, the mechanicals responded from various parts of the yard, where they had, unnoticed, been masquerading as audience members and stewards. Rather than being an audience expected to passively experience the play, the lines of differentiation between audience and company were again blurred.
In both productions, the elevation of Pyramus and Thisbe seemed intentional. Neither Higgin’s Quince at the Globe nor Felicity Montagu’s at the Bridge mangled the prologue, and neither did Francis Lovehal’s Starveling at the Bridge nor the ever-changing guest Starveling at the Globe ever seem unduly thrown by audience participation. Similarly, both the wider production and the play-within-a-play followed a similar structure: pre-set, play with audience interaction, and jig. Moreover, the choice of song for the mechanicals’ jig drew allusions not to Pyramus and Thisbe, but to Dream. The lyrics to ‘Bonkers’, for example, act as a plot synopsis for the wider play — a link the Bridge social media team encouraged Twitter followers to make.⁴
“I wake up everyday it’s a daydream
Everythin’ in my life ain’t what it seems
I wake up just to go back to sleep
I act real shallow but I’m in too deep”
Very little happens following the mechanicals’ performance, and elevating the status of Pyramus and Thisbe has the effect of creating a larger, more euphoric audience reaction. Puck’s tidying up becomes less tying together loose ends than crowd control. This was most evident at the Globe where there was no singular Puck: the whole company played the role at some point, culminating in a mayhemic final scheme where the actors jostle and fight to be the ultimate Puck. And David Moorst’s Puck at the Bridge had to battle a pit dance party complete with giant inflatable moons to get the audience’s attention for company bows. Ben suggests that the change in playing the mechanicals is indicative of a shift away from postmodern cynicism and I’m inclined to agree. Both the Bridge and Globe Dreams left me with a giddy sense of excitement — and an extended joyous dance party and singalong played no small part in that feeling. By elevating rather than mocking the mechanicals, the inherent comedy in Pyramus and Thisbe is uplifting and validating rather than something more cynical. An antidote to a jaded 2019.
[1] http://2011.playingshakespeare.org/text-in-performance/category/choreography/what-is-a-jig-0.html
[2] For more on the jig tradition at the Globe I recommend Roger Clegg’s chapter in the Oxford Handbook of Shakespeare and Dance.
[3] See for example, Theo Bosanquet’s review for The Stage, https://www.thestage.co.uk/reviews/2019/a-midsummer-nights-dream-review-at-shakespeares-globe-heady-summer-treat/
[4] https://twitter.com/_bridgetheatre/status/1158702770326843393
