I booked to go and see A Midsummer Nights Dream in Stockholm a few weeks ago. I realised it’d be in Swedish but I figured I knew the play well enough for it not to matter. And today was the day. And, following yesterday’s perfect weather for Mirinda and Lisa’s boat tour, today it was shit. I should have realised that would be a portent.
First up, the train I was going to catch was cancelled. No worries, said cheery Mirinda, I’ll drive you to Södertälje Syd where you can catch a train which will get you there on time.
That would have worked perfectly, except the Omio travel app, which only works when you don’t need it to, refused to let me buy a ticket for the correct train.
I quickly uninstalled the app and tried again but, by that time, I’d missed the train and then had to wait a cold, wet and windy 40 minutes for the next one.
My original plan had been for a latte at Fabrique then a leisurely stroll to Clas Ohlsen before casually making my way across the square to the Kulturhuset stadsteatern. That all went out of the window. It was, instead, a rather rushed walk straight from central. Well, rushed for me which, I have to admit, is pretty much normal walking for anyone else.
I dodged the threats of the unnecessary umbrellas all the way up to the theatre and reached the cloakroom just ahead of a massive group of people. Had I been 30 seconds later, I reckon I’d still be in the queue. This was a turning point in my day; a turning point to happiness.
Eventually, I could breathe again. I even had enough time for a beer before heading for my excellent seat in the front row.
And the play was superb. An incredibly imaginative rendering. Director Melody Parker has done an amazing job. Given the ensemble nature of the production, the cast must have had some input as well. And the language was no barrier for me. The play flowed as it has always flowed. I’d place it just slightly behind the Emma Rice production I saw in 2016.
No one stood out. They were all excellent. The whole cast.
There were so many moments of great joy. Like when Puck entered with a scarf on his head and a black handbag as the British national anthem started up, and four women came down from the stage, dressed as 1950’s housewives and carrying trays. They approached members of the audience, asking if they’d like tea and a biscuit in very English accents.
The Wall, in the play within a play, opened Pyramus and Thisbe with a rap, slipping into a bit of gangsta at one stage which had the audience in stitches. An audience made up of many teenagers who, I guess, must be studying The Dream at school.
Some of my favourite moments in a production full of them:
- Titania was played by Odile Nunes, who ousted a gold lamé clad Shakespeare at the end and directed the cast in their curtain calls with a gold umbrella.
- Carlos Romero Cruz as Duke Theseus, trying to control his hobby horse while wearing the biggest ruff in history.
- Bottom’s (Bahador Foladi) magnificent death scene at the end of the play within the play.
- Leif Andrée as Puck, controlling everything beautifully
- Karin Li Körsbärsdal (Hermia) and Manuela Gotskozik Bjelke (Helena) in an insane fight which ended with Hermia holding a big swodge of Helena’s hair.
- Emil Hedayat (Lysander) and Paula Sundberg (Demetrius) as a pair of Athens University students.
- Sofia Papadimitriou Ledarp as a delightfully ditzy, always dancing Hippolyta.
- The play within the play being performed on a stage within the stage was very clever.
The list could go on, but I’d wind up including everything in the play.
Something I rarely rave about is the design of plays, but this one was excellent. The work of Fredrik Floen was a perfect match for the insanity of the play.
Suffice it to say that the play made up for all the travel woes from earlier in the day. I left the theatre, a lot happier than I went in. And isn’t that what theatre should do?
Back in Trosa, Mirinda and Lisa spent the day talking, seeing rune stones and churches, having lunch, going to a boisterous exercise class and talking. Once they returned from the class, we all went over to Nicoline’s for a bit more talking.
And we finally saw Selma, the cat, who was very well hidden in the lounge room.
