Fairy dust in Strathcona Park. Photo by Andrew Alexander.

By Ryan Pratt

Having never visited Strathcona Park before, it was easy to attribute the touch of magic in the air to its gothic lamp posts or elderly trees.  The anticipation abuzz was contagious among couples and families, many who’ve no doubt witnessed A Company Of Fools in action before, and I now understand their cravings for an encore.  No two shows will ever be the same, in small part because this communal crowd helps shape the tale.

This would be an early performance of the company’s summer-long series in Ottawa parks. When warned on the Fools’ website that A Midsummer Night’s Dream would treat Shakespeare “the way you wish you learned it in high school,” I winced at the level of tomfoolery likely in store for me.

Most certainly a minority, I enjoyed Shakespearean studies throughout high school, which is more than I can say for over-the-top theatre.  Art’s emphasis on exaggerated facial expressions or vocal cadences, theatre of such boisterous nature, has always struck me as more unsettling than entertaining.

A view of the stage put those memories aside for a moment, not because of its minimal construct – five levels of wooden steps and a metal pole that sprouts palm leaves – but because at the fringe of this makeshift podium lay the greater setting of Strathcona Park.  The quiet elegance of Sandy Hill’s eastern-most ridge at dusk, when combined with a cheerful crowd still glowing from the previous night’s Canada Day festivities, made it easy to buy into The Fools’ imaginary Athens.

Not 30 feet away, a circle of exercise enthusiasts doing jumping-jacks in unison proved to be the cast, seemingly warming up more for a showcase in athleticism than for acting.

Well-Prepared Intimacy

The crowd of approximately 150 people felt intimate; the company well staffed and prepared.  Ushers welcomed onlookers and distributed programs while ensuring that everyone had an unobstructed view: blanket-equipped spectators scored front-row seats, while viewers with the height advantage of fold-out chairs were stationed everywhere else.  Surrounding our seating perimeter were mosquito-repelling candles and volunteers who were eager to field any audience questions.

Surprisingly, The Fools’ opened A Midsummer Night’s Dream – Shakespeare’s first classic farce and perhaps the earliest screwball comedy – rather straight-faced.  Rest assured, the cast brought a heap of fresh vitality to the material, yet trod Shakespeare’s busy set-up with caution, establishing these lovelorn personalities and their conflicted affections.  As confidently as robust Lysander contrasts spineless Demetrius, The Fools’ elicited no shortage of laughs.  They just didn’t unleash all their hijinks at once.

Sure, the Shakespearian icons dropped the occasional pop-culture quip, as when Lysander asked the audience whether an iPad application could solve his love troubles, but those soft chuckles didn’t compare to countless one-liners the performers couldn’t have memorized.

When an audience-member’s cell-phone rang mid-dialogue, romantic rivals Lysander and Demetrius instantly stitch “the strange ringing” into their argument. By jumping between rehearsed jokes and playful diatribes, The Fools prove exceedingly accomplished at their craft.

In the fervor of the play’s pacing, whereby men chase love for vanity and women chase it to avoid a life of nunnery, some of the plot’s sudden twists are poorly translated.  That nearly every member of the cast plays two characters – distinct from one another only by attire – compounds this confusion.  But a 90-minute performance offers more than enough time to iron out these occasional mix-ups, and The Fools’ humour outshines any muddled moments.

Old-School Delight

A comedy centered around the quandaries of arranged marriages may seem quaint to most Canadians, but the practice behind the play, of setting up a stage in a public space and inviting strangers to watch, is especially old-school.  For all the indifferent memories of theatre troupes that toured through my life, I never felt these charms of joining a crowd to encourage and enjoy lively public theatre.

The company’s energy, which had them literally running around the crowd, kept the children laughing while off-text; tongue-in-cheek wit ensured the adults were smiling.  The notion of watching someone being anointed by a love-potion by means of water-balloon, for example, wouldn’t have seemed very funny from my couch, but surrounded by a laughing crowd, the wishy-washy prop was an unpredictable hit.