An Indian Dream

I'd waited with great anticipation to see Tim Supple's Indian production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, first performed at Stratford last year and originally conceived by someone at the British Council who should get a gong in the next honours list for having had such a brilliant idea.   It's the most visually stunning version of this play I have seen since Peter Brook's setting of it in the 1970s in a white box.  There are echoes of Peter Brook in Supple's use of acrobatic and circus techniques to convey the magical essence of the play.  It switches from English to a variety of Indian languages, which didn't bother me too much as I was trying to watch rather than listen.  The play has a strong erotic charge, with the young couples tumbling around in the earth and the amazingly beautiful Archana Ramaswamy enjoying a lot more than a genteel cuddle with Bottom.  In Supple's production there is no doubt that intimacy has indeed taken place.  The design and music avoid Bollywood cliches and are really original.  Joy Fernandes as Bottom is also outstanding.  Shakespeare's story is universal and has always been popular in India.  There was a danger that an English director might just come in, do a smash and grab raid on the riches of Indian culture and take away the results, but I don't think this has happened.  It's a rewarding fusion of styles.  I was disappointed to see quite a lot of empty seats at the Roundhouse, though the cheaper areas were full.  I suspect there are a number of reasons for this.  The Roundhouse is a wonderful theatrical space (I remember seeing Ariane Mnouchkine's 1789 there many years ago) and the RSC used it to great effect for a season about four years ago. For those who don't know it, it's a converted Victorian engine shed, circular in shape, which has had a long and varied use as a cultural space over the last half century.  However, since its recent refurbishment the acoustics seem to have got even worse, and though it goes against the grain to say so, there's a case for actors being miked up in future theatre productions.  The empty seats may also be a consequence of poor marketing;  the producers don't seem to have used the usual discount channels to shift the top-price seats in the way that West End theatres do.  There's also the problem that Chalk Farm is off the theatregoing beaten track, and there is an outrageous £2.50 booking charge per ticket over the phone.  This production is going back to Stratford soon, and returning for a provincial tour in the autumn.   I wonder if the impact will be the same in some of the proscenium arch venues it will be visiting, however.  But it's the kind of show that comes round once in a generation, so don't miss it.