Presented by: Open Cage Ensemble
Season: Wednesday 3rd Dec 7.30pm/Thursday 4th Dec 11am and 7.30pm/Friday 5th Dec 11am and 7.30pm
Venue: 48 Watt Street, Newcastle (a fully accessible space)
Bookings: at the door $10 concession / $20 adults
“It’s incredible what a mind can do to a person”
There’s more truth to these words than many of us realise. Even a cursory glance at some mental health statistics will reveal an alarming undercurrent of mental health issues not only in Australia, but across the world. Despite this, there is still a stigma against the open discussion of mental health; how it affects both us, and those we love. Having dealt with major depression myself, I can understand and empathise with those left frustrated by the unnecessary hurdles present when pursuing mental health, or those who have periods of helplessness when receiving treatment or extended care. But as the wonderful author Neil Gaiman once said, adversity can be used to “make good art.” Thankfully, the Open Cage Ensemble have taken this advice to heart, and produced a new work that addresses the powerful issue of mental health treatment in the clothes of a playwright that most theatregoers will immediately recognise – the Bard himself.
Directed by Erika Gelzennis and created through a collaboration between her Open Cage Ensemble and ‘Creating the Self’ (an inclusive arts program for adults, musicians and actors), A Midsummer’s Nightmare takes a critical examination of the many flaws present within Australia’s mental health systems, and sets them against the chaotic dreamscape of the magical forest from William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Amidst these scenes, the audiences in treated to a multimedia backdrop that takes a closer look at the anarchic nature of dreams, and the nightmares that can plague us as individuals.
The most immediately notable difference between A Midsummer’s Nightmare and other productions is its imaginative use of location and set design to evoke an otherworldly feeling; multi-coloured ornaments and patterns adorn an angled tree, looking for all intentions like flora from a Dr Seuss book (or an Etsy craft-enthusiast’s wildest dreams). Further into the space, the primary set establishes a hodgepodge of singular design concepts; a light pole enmeshed with wiring and adorned with an umbrella, a featureless wooden tree standing sentinel at centre stage, and a sizeable wooden framework that will act as projector screen, shadow theatre stage, and a means of escape for the play’s central character, a mother at the mercy of a disorganised system.
The Open Cage ensemble prove to be capable guides into this chaotic world, and create a strong contrast in tone as the show shifts from imaginative forest to forlorn mental health facility. Ruby Cooper’s vulnerability as The Dreamer (the show’s central character) provides a clear and empathetic focus for the audience, as we watch Cooper struggle to navigate her way between dreams and reality. Below her, the Open Cage ensemble embody all manner of surreal creatures, whether they be the tricksy fairies of Oberon and Titania’s forest kingdom, or the physical manifestation of formless dreams.
While these unconscious fantasies seem strange enough in our minds, it’s something else to watch as a crew of performers contort themselves into beastly boogeymen, or a crew of teenagers who can get each other pregnant just by touching another’s body. Special mentions go to Meredith Johnson’s cheekily sarcastic Moon, Janelle Bortkevich as the hilariously unimpressed Titania, and Patrick Muller for his wonderful death scene as Thisby discovering Pyramus’ body – though the entire ensemble deserves compliments for their wonderful performances, as well as their contagious enthusiasm.
Gelzennis bolsters these imaginative characters with an impressive use of lighting and sound, drenching the stage in a slow cascade of deep crimsons and forest greens. Hidden smoke machines puff a deep mist into the surrounding trees, slowly enveloping the audience in this dreamscape. Mixed with the sparing use of spotlights and shadows, we are brought into another world – only to have it disappear when confronted with the austere and featureless illumination of a mental health facility light. In this altogether different space, we watch as characters fruitlessly try to gain access to The Dreamer, chained as she is behind a wall of inefficient consultations and staggering apathy. It’s a sad contrast to the limitless possibility of the show’s dreamscapes, and leaves the audience feeling as helpless as The Dreamer. Try as we might, we are all out of control.
A delightful side-effect hidden behind A Midsummer’s Nightmare is that it is actually a wonderful showcase of Gelzennis talent. Mother Erika makes great use of her skilled offspring to reinforce the play’s wide variety of content, as Cosmo and Harry Gelzennis sprinkle the show with light musical interludes, soulful piano and guitar compositions, and even hand-made animated sequences. Though I’m not emphasising these two as a means of detraction for the rest of the enthusiastic ensemble, I’ve got to acknowledge impressive talent when I see it, and these two boys have it in spades – congratulations!
It’s interesting to see Shakespeare being used as a contrasting element to a strongly themed show like A Midsummer’s Nightmare without having it unconsciously dominate the whole production. Thankfully, Gelzennis keeps the message clear, and delivers a collaborative piece that makes careful note of the less-than-perfect state of mental health care. However, more than anything, A Midsummer’s Nightmare is a triumph of the collaborative spirit, and acknowledges its limitations as a way to stand out, rather than shy from creativity. Through its extensive use of multimedia, music, movement and enthusiastic performance, the show breezes through its brief run time and allow the material to flow with a thoughtless freedom.
It’s incredible what a mind can do to a person, but it’s just as incredible to see what a wonderful group of people can do for an audience.