‘Finally You Put Me First’: Love on Top in NT Live: A Midsummer Night’s Dream @ The Bridge Theatre
A favoured technique by directors seeking to connect their Shakespearean production to a modern audience is to incorporate popular music of the period which will either highlight a prominent theme already contained within the original text or encapsulate the emotions of a specific character.¹ Nicholas Hytner’s 2019 A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Bridge Theatre doubles down on the power of pop to not only root us in the contemporary moment but also, in the manner of the catchiest song, lodge specific moments in the audience’s memory long after the production ends.
However, for a show which appeared to be populated by an array of familiar sounds it is worth noting that only three twenty-first century songs featured: Dizzee Rascal’s ‘Bonkers’ (2009), Beyoncé’s ‘Love on Top’ (2011) and Florence + The Machine’s ‘Only If For A Night’ (2011). This is surely because each was utilised so effectively and memorably. In this article, I will focus on how and why Beyoncé’s Grammy-winning single worked so effectively in the production.
The image of Bottom (Hammed Animashaun) and Oberon (Oliver Chris) grinding merrily to Beyoncé’s euphoric celebration of triumphant love will be indelibly seared onto my mind forever more. ‘Love On Top’ is arguably the iconic singer/songwriter’s most upbeat track and is noteworthy for its act of quite literal escalation due to the four ascending key changes (stretching from the low note of G3 to the high note of B5) which take place across four-and-half minutes. This makes it a highly suitable soundtrack to Oberon’s sudden and all-consuming infatuation with Bottom.
Bottom’s acceptance of the unexpected situation without protest or question was ably supported by a song as powerful and meteoric as ‘Love On Top’. It is worth noting here that Hytner’s decision to have him behave in this manner, rather than embarrassingly rejecting or attempting to avoid Oberon’s advances, felt incredibly progressive and mature. It transformed the scene into an act of erotic celebration that was simultaneously hilarious and touching. Moreover, Oliver’s performance as Theseus/Oberon was arguably the one which showed the greatest change and depth of range throughout this production, moving from a standard, chest-beating alpha (as Theseus) to a fascinating self-examination of fragile and unstable masculinity (as Oberon).
I have never seen a production in which Bottom and Titania’s relationship was treated with this degree of tenderness and sincerity. The marriage of ‘Love On Top’ and the image of two characters in perfect harmony — despite the enchanted nature of the relationship from one side — lent it a tenderness and genuine shared affection which is often lost amidst the sleaze of Titania salivating over the translated Bottom. The absence of the usual smut and donkey gags was therefore most welcome, as was the downplaying of the character’s donkey ears, which are too often an excuse for lazy physical humour.
Baby it’s you
You’re the one I love
You’re the one I need
You’re the only one I see
Consider, in particular, the final line taken from this snippet of the song’s chorus. In Dream, Titania is drugged by Puck on Oberon’s orders through the use of the love juice and, consequently, falls in love with the monstrously ‘translated’ Bottom. The relationship between Oberon and Titania is frosty to say the least but, in Hytner’s production, due to the subtle hints throughout that Oberon and Titania may actually be the same people as Theseus and Hippolyta, this animosity was perhaps greater than ever.
The decision to have the Fairy King and not Queen fall in love with Bottom also supposedly poses a different set of questions. How will Bottom respond to the advances of a male being? Does this mean both characters are bisexual? However, rather than overanalyse this moment or potential predicament, I believe that Hytner used Beyoncé’s lyrics to signal to the audience that Oberon may be falling in love with Bottom for real rather than merely being under the influence. In this moment, he is truly ‘the only one’ that Oberon sees and this provides an escape from the unhappy accord between himself and Titania.
The dual nature of Theseus/Oberon’s identity was underscored in the final scene by the Duke and Bottom sharing a passing moment of recognition. Evidently, this was intended to generate laughter from the audience at the actors’ meta-theatrical awareness of having met before in the drama of the woods. However, given that many productions of Dream generally avoid such cross-pollination between forest and court, it also provoked audible gasps that some memory of those events may still be held by Theseus and Bottom. Shakespeare arguably created a precedent in Dream for characters to remain enchanted once they leave the woodland realm, choosing not to release Demetrius from Puck’s spell and therefore remain (drunk) in love with Helena. Hytner is merely continuing and extending this mysterious notion.
This Dream was the perfect tonic for a modern audience tired of female prejudice and being pandered to by institutions who think they speak their pop culture language. In the pit, the balcony and cinemas across the country, this production put the audience first and delivered an immersive experience which was palpable even via live broadcast. In an admirable case of audience engagement, which Gemma will discuss at a later date, an official Dream playlist was recently made available on Spotify and is accessible via the link below, ensuring that you too can become Beyoncé in the privacy of your own home, only if for the night.
[1] In 2015, for instance, these examples ranged from the urbane to the anarchic. Lyndsey Turner’s Hamlet opened at the Barbican on Benedict Cumberbatch’s Prince to strains of Nat King Cole’s ‘Nature Boy’ (1948), reminding the audience of this ‘very strange enchanted boy’ and laying the scene perfectly for the actor’s portrayal of the character as a lost soul. Meanwhile, in the Young Vic, the the punk rock punch and defiant lyrics of Alannis Morissette’s ‘You Outta Know’ (1995) encapsulated the boiling fury of 0the mistreated Marina (Cath Whitefield) in Joe Hill-Gibbin’s full-throttle Measure for Measure.
