When I heard that the Melbourne University Shakespeare Company is taking A Midsummer Night’s Dream, gender-flipping it, and plunging it into a boozy, jazzy nightclub called The Woods, I was sold. And I was not disappointed. The production, directed by Ava Brown and assistant-directed by Alana Collins, is woozy, sensual and hilarious—exactly as Shakespeare would have wanted it.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream takes place in a mystical Grecian forest, where four Athenians are put under a spell by fairy Puck, resulting in two men desperately chasing after the same woman. The Fairy Queen, Titania, is also cursed into falling in love with an ass. Eventually, order is restored, and the four split into two neat marriages.

Producer Josh Drake and the MUSC committee remain largely faithful to the original script and storyline, choosing to modernise it through setting, costuming and acting style instead. One of the main changes to the material itself—the reimagining of Hermia as Hercules (Surya Phipps), and Demetrius as Deianira (Charlotte Fraser)—is thoughtful and well-executed, bringing unrequited queer love into the foreground.

The subtler moments underscore how much thought has been put into this exploration. When Helena hugged Deianira  (Emma Boyce) early in the play, Deianira hadn’t been cursed into falling in love with Helena yet, insisting that she only loved Hercules. But she still hesitated for just a touch too long before pulling away from Helena’s embrace. It’s a small addition, but quietly implies that the spells don’t entirely change the characters’ feelings about one another—they just give them permission to express them.

The set, costuming and makeup are equally thoughtful and beautifully designed, creating a cohesive but vibrant background for the action to unfold against. The costumes are diverse and eclectic but somehow work wonderfully together. A mix of corsetry, 70s-style suits and club garb gives the cast a timeless quality, underscoring the universality and ongoing contemporaneity of the play itself. Similarly, the androgynous makeup design, with each character sporting neon winged eyeliner and a smattering of glitter, perfectly coheres with the gender-fluidity and the playfulness of MUSC’s interpretation.

Additionally, the mismatched retro curtains, enlivened with swirling flower-like coloured lights, which line the chess-board stage and its mismatched vintage couches, are fittingly eccentric and nostalgic. When the gauzy white curtain at the back of the stage drops, revealing the live band and the psychedelically-patterned ‘The Woods’ sign behind a makeshift bar—the set is transformed instantly, and convincingly, into a night club, complete with dimmed lighting and neon-pink and green spotlights.

The band (Harry Vreugdenberg, Pacey Dunshea and Conor Boussioutas) aren’t simply a part of the club-backdrop, they’re one of the most impressive, polished parts of the production. They created a cohesive link between different settings and scenes by maintaining a jazzy sound throughout, while slipping seamlessly between sultry, groovy and loungey, matching every moment of sensuality, sexiness and humour. The music perfectly underscored the dialogue and action, but also became the action at times. There were several moments of heavy, unspoken love, sexual tension, or comedic pauses—as well as dance sequences and transitions—in which the band’s sound became full-bodied and dynamic, filling the stage.

When the play began, the action on stage felt a touch static. It was opening night, to be fair, but some of the characters’ voices were slightly muffled. Their facial expressions and body language seemed a touch flat, and there was the occasional fumbled line. But they quickly got into the swing of things, and from there the production ran smoothly. In particular, Lysander (Tiger Robotham) really blossomed as the play progressed. By the time he’d had one too many drinks and fallen for Helena, he was absolutely hilarious. His gangly, awkward gallop off stage to ‘be her knight’ was one of the production’s highlights.

What’s really wonderful about many of the actors is that they complement one another perfectly. Oberon and Titania (Kwasi Darko and Liliana Crismani) match and build off each others’ gravitas and charisma, bringing a certain tension and weightiness to the stage every time they enter. Quince and Bottom (Michael Werden and Grace Barnes) are a brilliant comedic duo; they seem to continually bounce off each other’s awkwardness and silliness, lifting each other’s energy and doubling each scene’s comic value. And, the sharp contrasts between characters are also carried out to great effect.When Titania is awakened by Bottom’s singing, the juxtaposition of her graceful, gradual rising from the couch, against Bottom’s tortuously and wonderfully untalented screech, creates a moment of true comedic perfection.

There are some stand-out individual performances, too. If Quince had a one-man spin-off show, I would gladly watch it—I think I was either smiling or laughing every second that he was on stage. His marvellously awkward, flirty entrance where he saunters in like a cat while screeching ‘owey owey owey ye-AH!’ had me in stitches.

Puck (Jemima Christie) is equally brilliant. Eccentric and endearing, her wide-eyed facial expressions and slightly unsettling hand movements are perfectly matched to her lines, and the background music. Her melding of music, physicality and dialogue makes for a compelling and impressive performance.

Helena is fantastic, blending tender, unrequited love with biting fieriness. Her ‘I am your spaniel’ sequence—as she fully commits to crawling across the stage as a dog—is performed without self-consciousness or apprehension. And her flipping-off of Hercules attracts, deservingly, what is probably the loudest laugh from the audience throughout the production—ike the rest of her acting, it feels natural and well-timed.

As the characters awoke from their drugged slumber, bleary-eyed and dazed, the audience, too, seemed sad to leave this night of fantasies behind. Like Midsummer’s characters, we’ve been plunged into a world of mystique and intrigue, of hilarity and tenderness. MUSC puts us under an enchantment of wonder and whimsy, and that’s a spell that doesn’t lift by the time the curtains rise.

Photography by Mia Sugiyanto