The Stratford Festival Review: Graham Abbey’s Dream embraces romantic chaos with humour, heart, and wonderment.
By Ross
Thunder rattles through the Tom Patterson Theatre as a lone woman appears above the audience, breathless and distressed beneath a large, bright moon. She stumbles down, carrying a lantern and the burden of a changling child yet to be born. Spirits emerge from the earth, surrounding her with music and gentle comfort as she brings new life into the world at the cost of her own. Developed in collaboration with Groundling Theatre and directed with intelligence and care by Graham Abbey (Benedick in StratFest’s Much Ado About Nothing), Stratford Festival‘s A Midsummer Night’s Dream opens with an image of creation itself, before a single lover loses their way in the forest. The effect is emotionally captivating and impossible not to be drawn in by its surprising ‘rough magic‘ as we are invited into a dynamic world where the mortal and the magical exist side by side, each shaping the other in ways both beautiful and unpredictable, and each struggling with the same emotional baggage.
The tight transition into royal Athens is immediate and engaging. Evan Buliung‘s Theseus commands the court with confidence, while Ijeoma Emesowum‘s Hippolyta brings intelligence, strength, and a refreshingly modern voice to their exchanges. Yet the production’s approach to the court occasionally raises a few questions. The visual world, designed with Victorian elegance by Joshua Quinlan (Crow’s Rosmersholm), often clashes with the distinctly contemporary mannerisms of the younger characters. The more the four lovers run with love and desire, the more the contrast is noticeable, as they seem far more modern in speech and behaviour than the costumes they inhabit. It never derails the production, but it does create an occasional disconnect between the world we see and the one we are asked to believe in with all our romantic heart.
Once the four begin their intrepid journey into the woods, however, those concerns quickly fade beneath the momentum of the story and the magic of the ever-changing moon. Shakespeare’s comedy has always thrived on romantic confusion, and Abbey certainly knows how to embrace that confusion with enthusiasm. The young Athenians stumble, chase, argue, and pine for love, creating a whirlwind of mismatched affection that keeps the play moving at a full, fun, lively pace.
That energy of the heart truly elevates whenever Helena enters the space. Jessica B. Hill (StratFest’s Sense and Sensibility) delivers a wonderfully spirited performance, finding both humour and genuine heartbreak inside Helena’s relentless pursuit of love. She transforms Helena’s desperation into something recognizably human beneath all the comedy. Opposite her, Thomas Duplessie‘s Demetrius gradually reveals his own surprising charm. Their scenes together become increasingly engaging as the production progresses, particularly once the forest’s enchantments begin scrambling everyone’s desires.
As Hermia, Vivien Endicott-Douglas (Tarragon’s Guarded Girls) stands true and determined, bringing warmth and playfulness to her role, while Jordin Hall (StratFest’s The Art of War) embraces the comic absurdity of Lysander’s increasingly chaotic behaviour. At times, the lovers lean a bit too heavily into the broad comedy, losing some of the emotional nuance in the shuffle. Yet, the quartet remains consistently entertaining and engaging, and the production continually finds particular joy in the escalating rivalry between the two young men. Their confrontations are cleverly staged, full of swagger, posturing, and youthful foolishness. Watching Demetrius and Lysander gaze adoringly while they stumble through their enchanted devotion to Helena becomes one of the evening’s most charming running jokes, helped considerably by the performers’ willingness to fully commit to the ridiculousness of the situation.
Serving as the troublemaking architect of much of that chaos, Mike Nadajewski (ShawFest’s Tons of Money) finds great glee in his Puck, constantly engaging the audience and breaking the fourth wall. His mischievous sprite feels like an eager instigator having too much fun propelling the evening’s silly party games forward. The performance keeps the audience firmly inside the dream, even during some of the production’s more extended comic sequences.
The fairy realm itself is beautifully realized as a regal trunk bed floats out into position, courtesy of the strong design work by Lorenzo Savoini (StratFest’s London Assurance) and the lighting by Kevin Lamotte (CanStage’s A Doll’s House). The lush visual design, evocative music, and that elegant moon that hangs over the antics below create an enchanting setting for the night’s adventures. Yet the fairies themselves feel somewhat less distinctive. Their costumes and movement establish a cohesive magical world in a manner we have come to expect, but many of the individual characters blend together, making the fairy court feel less memorable than the mortals who wander through it.
The exception is Titania, portrayed magically by Sara Topham (Broadway’s Travesties). She brings compassion, authority, and emotional depth to the Fairy Queen, creating a character whose love feels as powerful as her pride. Opposite her, André Sills (StratFest’s King Lear) presents an Oberon driven forcibly by anger stemming from jealousy. While undeniably commanding, the performance leaves less room for the wounded affection that might help explain both his conflict with Titania and his eventual sympathy for the wandering lovers. As a result, some of Oberon’s actions carry a sharper and darker edge than the production perhaps intends. Only in the later scenes do we begin to glimpse the love and hurt that lie beneath the anger and resentment.
Hijacking center stage under that magnificent magical moonlight (and the playful eye of our Puck), the Mechanicals provide reliable comic relief throughout. Sarah Dodd‘s wonderfully impatient Rita Quince struggles heroically to maintain order among a group seemingly determined to undermine every rehearsal. Michael Spencer-Davis (StratFest’s Twelfth Night) hilariously embraces Nick Bottom’s glorious self-confidence with infectious enthusiasm, and the ensemble, namely 郝邦宇 Steven Hao as Snug, Aaron Krohn as Francis Flute, Sara-Jeanne Hosie as Snout, and Michael Man as Robin Starveling, finds plenty of laughs in their preparation of “Pyramus and Thisbe.” Although the extended performance sequence after the weddings has never been my favourite portion of the play, this production finds so much joy in the retelling of “Pyramus and Thisbe” that the scene becomes a delight rather than an obligation.
Abbey’s production embraces Shakespeare’s comedy as a celebration of romantic chaos. Love arrives unexpectedly, changes allegiances without warning, and sends otherwise sensible people running blindly into the woods (I find it difficult not to make a Sondheim reference here) beneath the moonlight. That idea of chaotic celebration is ever present from the production’s opening moments, when one life ends so another can begin. By the time the lovers emerge from the forest transformed by everything they have experienced, that first image finds new significance. This Dream understands that love is rarely orderly, often bewildering, and capable of changing people completely. Under Abbey’s direction, that transformation becomes the beating heart of an evening filled with laughter, enchantment, and moonlit wonder.
