You’ve directed A Midsummer Night’s Dream before. What keeps you coming back to this play?
The first production I ever saw, in the seventh grade, was a lightbulb moment for me about theatre. I was sitting in this auditorium with bad acoustics. I was a sports kid who got asthma and knew I wasn’t going to be to compete in the same way I used to. But then I saw this touring production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and something woke up in me. I had always loved language and poetry and performance, but here were magical transformations and athletic language and a kind of visceral performance. It captivated me. I remember saying, “If I’m not doing sports, I want to do that!”
Luckily the next year in our middle school theatre class, we decided to do a play, and it was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I ended up playing Puck. Kind of famously in our little circle, we went to a competition, and they left our costumes and everything behind. They almost canceled the production, but we said no. We tore up our clothes to be the costumes, we pulled some flowers to be the woods, we made what I like to call the simple magic that happens in this play, both in language and in these wonderful theatrical transformations.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream has always been a love letter to the theatre for me. And I think that right now, in this time where we’ve been through so much, we need love letters—to connection, to magical transformation, to the art form of theatre itself.
Is it a challenge to take on a play that’s so well known?
Sometimes people think, “Oh, I did that play in high school. I know that play.” And I think people can underestimate the power of Midsummer. There’s actually more meat on the bone than we think. Hermia, for example, is fighting against patriarchal oppression, with the consequence of death on the line. So yes, it’s delightful, it’s fun, it’s fairies, it’s all of those things. But it’s also a play about a young woman who’s saying, “I’m going to take agency in my life, I’m going to take control of my own destiny and my own definition of love.” Just like it’s important in Hamlet to get the humor right, I think it’s important in this humorous, delightful play to get the life-and-death stakes right.
What is new and different for you in this production of the play?
I think this pandemic has pushed people outside of their comfort zones—which means, in a funny way, it has pushed them into their own version of the woods outside Athens where the play takes place. So the question of what kind of transformations happen to us when we are in our woods—and who we are when we come out on the other side—is something that feels particularly relevant right now.
When it came to design, what were the principles that guided your exploration?
I was thinking about San Diego and our connection to Comic-Con, and how the world of superhero films feels both very modern but also timeless at the same time. Working with David Reynoso on costumes and scenic design, we tried to create a neoclassical framework for the opening scenes of the play—something that feels very royal and angular and “capital S” Shakespearean—which is also inspired by Marvel movies and the timeless world they create. When we move into the woods, we break from that very structured, almost rectangular place and move into a world that’s more organic: a magical mystery woods. I wanted it to feel powerful and lush, like a playground for discovery. I love the Afrofuturist superhero world we’ve created.
How would you describe the fairy world you envisioned?
It’s as if there were an Afro-punk festival at Burning Man, and Alexander McQueen did some of the design. When we were thinking about Titania and Oberon, we were asking, “How does their royalty manifest?” When I go to Afro-punk in New York, people are walking around in their royal power, and it is vibrant and sensual and powerful. So we took some of the energy of the kings and queens I’ve seen walking around there, and we’ve merged that with a fairy-tale element, a pop-up book quality that feels provocative and fantastical.
What is the experience you hope audiences will have watching the play?
I’d love for it to feel at first like you’ve been dropped into the middle of a big Marvel fight scene. And then there’s a shift, and you find yourself at a high court, where people are fighting for their rights and standing up for their authentic voices. Then you take a magic carpet ride into the woods, where a lot of mysterious, fantastical things happen, and finally Puck (your tour guide on the ride) brings you back to your seats in this beautiful theatre at the Globe. And I hope you feel transformed by the journey!
Costume renderings by David Israel Reynoso.
What is Afrofuturism?
By Sonia Desai
