FringeReview UK 2026
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Shakespeare’s Globe
Genre: Classical and Shakespeare, Clown, Comedy, Community Theatre, Drama, LGBTQ+ Theatre, Mainstream Theatre, Mask, Outdoor and Promenade, Theatre
Venue: Shakespeare’s Globe
Festival: FringeReview UK
Low Down
There’s new faces here that blaze out, and in between laughter the fleck of pain winces across and is gone. Directed by Emily Lim at the Globe till August 29, this is a distinctly-edged family show, but far finer than that might imply. Be prepared to be roped in.
Blissful and side-splitting, which might be unique.
Review
Hard on the heels (say 40 minutes) of the wintry, sinister A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Wanamaker last winter, arrives a burst of spring. Something riotously funny, happy and with a truth amidst all the high-kicks that bodes well for Shakespearean (and all) comedy. There’s new faces here that blaze out, and in between laughter the fleck of pain winces across and is gone. Directed by Emily Lim at the Globe till August 29, this is a distinctly-edged family show, but far finer than that might imply. Be prepared to be roped in.
It’s also naturally unrelated to the 2019/21 Dream here, and some of the unpleasantness of the opening scene cleverly resolved. It’s been rethought as Lim has Enyi Okoronkwo’s Oberon (willingly it seems) captured by Hippolyta (a gently authoritative and as Titania super-slinky Audrey Blisson, whose singing is her magic). With this dynamic altered, it means Okoronkwo’s never set up as Oberon to be a super-tyrant over the child (that cry of desolation from the baby present, but muted here) and you feel something slightly different might happen a redistribution of lines (something nearly effected by Nicholas Hytner in his 2019 Bridge production) is mainly confined to these two. And the text, already short, is notably edited down. This Dream runs barely two hours 25. Lin’s known for her work at the National Theatre’s Public Arts Project. She brings that here seamlessly.
It suggests of course slightly lower stakes in this more benign climate for Hermia, (an appealing Sophie Cox) and Lysander (Mel Lowe, a mix of devotion and vehement in denial); but enough for them to escape the sharp Athenian law, pursued of course by Gavi Singh Chera’s dashing Demetrius and the star of this quartet, Romaya Weaver’s Helena. Her voice is clarion, but never overly so, her thinking clear in her face: every moment of emphasis memorable and thought through to appear spontaneous. And she is fierce.
Singh Chera (worthy of Weaver vocally too) and Weaver notably tower over the other lovers. You feel straight away who belongs to whom. Cox and Lowe weave their own less florid magic, more gentle (at least at first). It’s not the most intensely realised or poetic quartet, with little development. but fits perfectly here.
An exception though is Haruka Kuroda’s fight scenes between the four. Its visceral, vicious and alarmingly serious where before there’s been a reining-back on the dream’s dark. There really are school vixens though, and recognisably scuffles. It’s the most memorable quartet-scrap I’ve seen and the actors bring new levels of truth and even pain here.
Most of all those audience members who’ve put themselves forward have arrived on stage for the pre-set ‘Audition’ where audience members orate this or that and others have been recruited as extra characters (“the front of Pyramus’ Horse” “Thisbe’s aunt” and so on). But though these roles are illusory earning just a shout-out of someone’s name, one or two land: including Moonshine. And they have work to do, dazzlingly arrayed in silver it transpires. Above it all Jim Fortune’s ebullient music starts with Cornish melodies and Pentangle-inspired celebrations of May Day as Hernia and Helena whirl each other about before the play proper.
At other points everyone’s reaching out their hands (recalling the film of Hamnet). To say much more would spoil it for whatever a stray audience-member might think of next. The difference here is everything’s tightly worked in and prepared. The gags run; timing and audience-roping is clown-tight.
Aldo Vázquez has conjured a pop-art tiring-house for the Mechanicals, and a gallimaufry of props, including bubble-gum guns and a small gallery constructed up one of the two main pillars, like a mini-Panopticon. Much use is made of the audience galleries and at the performance of the Mechanicals, the regal audience is separated right across the horseshoe into the audience. Even more, Fly Davis has woven both fantastical green costumes (sometimes unnervingly doubling Puck’s) and bright pantaloons for the lovers, colour-coded and rendering everyone recognizable. Robes for Hippolyta and Oberon for instance are sheer, simple and gorgeous.
There’s gear-changes too. Michael Grady-Hall’s Puck is the most courtier-like and indeed Touchstone-like I’ve seen. He seems more involved with audience than action and becomes here the narrator whom audience-members cleave to. Gone is the magic, or childish glee, even mischief. This Puck is quick-witted, pratfalling jokes with the audience but in control: the timing is his magic. The chiding from Oberon isn’t serious and he’s quick in his own defence. I’m not quite sure why he’s shorn of such magic but it might be to do with recruiting a member of the audience when it comes to some of those rescue remedies (as it were), and undoing confusions. Initially though, that stuff can get in your eyes and cause all sorts of confusion. Cue more audience jinks.
Adrian Richards’ Bottom is less farcical too, less absurd, with a touch of nobility, but sending himself up when avid for every part, nearly interrupted by Victoria Mosley’s Quince (occasionally appearing with a megaphone and “action”). Richards reacts to Brisson with a savviness and cheerful acceptance having made it clear he thinks it all mad. as a transformed Ass he sparkles in the most outrageous glitter you can imagine: but suddenly at home and confident. There’s less of the ‘Bully” in this Bottom though: he’s more reflective, poetically capable of writing “Bottom’s dream” himself.
There’s farcical hesitation from Jamal Franklin’s Snug and Cobweb, and Gareth Kennerley’s Egeus is a loping tyrant, but who melts into Peaseblossom and particularly Flute with a glint of real pathos. Which here is rudely interrupted and can’t achieve its full effect. The thirteen-strong company are completed by Em Prendergast’s up-roarious Snout as Lion and shy Mustardseed, and Tumi Olufawo’s confident, evanescent Moth.
The singing here by principal and others make this almost operatic, or being Fortune, a musical. The most thought-through Dream designed for audience participation and those seeing Shakespeare for the first time. The plot’s lucidly realised, and though we miss the subtlety and dark magic, the radiance of this play, its greatest gift, has been turned up to full. Blissful and side-splitting, which might be unique.
Musicians: Composer Jim Fortune, MD/T Tuba Henry, Violins Piotr Jordan, Sally Simpson, Percussion Saleem Raman, Accordion Ilona Suomalainen.
Costume Design concept Fly Davis, Associate Director Amber Medway, Coreographer and Movement Director James Cousins, Associate Choreographer and Movement Director Emma Farnell-Watson
Fight & Intimacy Director Haruka Kuroda
Scenic Artist Susanna Burton, Costume Supervisor Jacque Davies, Voice and Text Simon Money
Stage Manager Ella May MDermott, DSM Susan Sanii, ASM Oyinkansola Adesina, Stage Management Placement Emma Kelly.
Globe Associate – Movement Glynn MacDonald, Head of Voice Tess Dignan, Head of Production Wills, Head of Stage Bryan Paterson, Head of Wigs, Hair and Make-up Gilly Church, Head of Wardrobe Emma Lucy-Hughes, Head of Company Management Marion Marrs, Head of Props Emma Hughes, Casting Becky Paris CDG. Producer Tamara Moore.
