Theatre in Review: A Midsummer Night's Dream (New York Classical Theatre)If the Public Theater produces Shakespeare in the Park, New York Classical Theatre specializes in Shakespeare al fresco. This intrepid troupe commandeers a slice of a public park and, without benefit of stage, scenery, or sound design -- not to mention a lighting rig that consists of two pairs of flashlights taped together -- puts on one of the Bard's works in a sylvan setting. Scholars love to talk about Shakespeare's "green world," the place to which the characters in his comedies repair to straighten out their romantic tangles. This is the greenest production of Midsummer you are likely to see for many a moon. I caught A Midsummer Night's Dream at Nelson Rockefeller Park in Battery Park City; the production unfolded in the midst of picnickers, joggers, even a touch football game being played by grade-schoolers and their fathers. The line between actors and audience appears to be porous, but, in fact it is rigorously, if politely, policed by NYCT staff members. The opening scene began with the audience seated facing away from the Hudson, looking toward the streetscape of high-rise apartments that run along the park. This is a promenade staging, however, and by evening's end we had occupied a number of locations, albeit in the same general area. The company assembled by the director, Sean Hagerty, is young, nimble, well-trained, technically adept, and fearless. (Especially fearless; at the performance I attended, a young man, who looked to be about eleven, ran in front of the cast and, addressing the audience, howled, "I have one thing to say: Fuck Donald Trump!" A cast member dispatched him speedily and the others returned to their scene without dropping a line.) Hagerty's staging -- a one-act version, running one hour and fifty minutes -- sets a headlong pace, spiked with many witty touches. In the first scene, Theseus is introduced in a Marine uniform and Hippolyta in a wedding gown, the two of them posing for royal photo ops like William and Kate of England. However, when Egeus appears, dragging with him the recalcitrant Hermia, and Theseus threatens her with death or exile if she won't marry Demetrius, Hippolyta stalks off, clearly fed up with men and their manipulations. With a simple, split-second adjustment of Amy Pedigo-Otto's costumes, the rude mechanicals, rehearsing their most unpromising "Pyramus and Thisbe," are transformed into the members of Titania's fairy court. The "Pyramus and Thisbe" sequence is full of knockabout fun, not least due to the enormous inflatable bra worn by Francis Flute, who plays Thisbe, which can be counted on to explode at the worst possible moment. In a cast without a weak link, I especially enjoyed three performances. Lauriel Friedman puts a screwball spin on Helena's deep sense of aggrievement -- first at being ignored by Demetrius and Lysander, and even more so when she becomes the object of their frantic desire. Ian Gould's Bottom is a devoted student of the drama, loaded with plenty of master thespian affectations, which make his transformation into a donkey -- and Titania's love object -- all the more amusing. Matt Mundy's Puck is both cunning and feral, a creature who practices his mischief with malice aforethought and then, in the face of Oberon's displeasure, frantically tries to undo the havoc he has caused. It's a good thing that the cast is so technically adept because, in this performance situation, all one's lung power, and more, is necessary for the characters to be heard. In the absence of any amplification, the actors must compete with everyone else in the park -- not to mention passing ships and aircraft overhead, including some very pesky helicopters that threatened to drown out the action. One's relationship to the actors changes each time the audience moves. Anyone unfamiliar with the play's text may have difficulty understanding exactly what is going on. Still, the audience on my night had few, if any, walkouts, and the cast was greeted with lusty applause at the curtain call. It's possible that performances later this month, when the troupe plays Prospect Park and Carl Schurz Park, may prove to be easier on the ear. Still, there's something undeniably delightful about watching these talented young people take on this challenge, just as there's something moving about hearing Shakespeare presented in such a contemporary urban environment. This is not a perfect Midsummer Night's Dream, but it's the kind of production that makes one awfully happy to be living in New York. -- David Barbour 
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