Play review: Tim Supple's Midsummer's night dream

Last year, people came away dazed by a play sponsored by the British Council, Shakespeare's Midsummer night's dream.

There was a buzz about people swinging about on stage, suspended in mid-air, dialogs in various languages, sri lankans and most intriguingly, female abdominal muscles.

i was not going to miss the return of this play for the world..

now i hate mass hysteria. i showed with my most critical eye and was supremely resolute in being as unimpressed as possible.

I mean.. first of all it's Shakespeare, in a mix of indian dialects with acrobatics, live accoustic accompaniment, a singing stone, dancing, singing.. it seemed too..gimmickish.. also there's the perpetual cash cow- india's oriental erotic charm.

me..i was not be swayed.

but by half time i had to concede that the thing was just fucking bumping.

now the average absorption rate of a shakespeare play for me is around 5%. if it is well produced and executed i come away with the vague notion that there was confusion and it was resolved amicably in the end. there was some antonio-bessanio type people, things were compared to the moon on occasion and people mumbled 'oh i say.. shakespeare's awfully good old chap what?' in the foyer. given the fact that this play was in several languages, i think i understood around 2%. (but i didn't fall asleep like i did during 'hirak rajar deshe').

i came out all warm and fuzzy during the half-time, ruminating the delicately subtle point of the universal nature of man illustrated by the seamless delivery of dialog in one language responded to in another language. then i was brought to earth by the snatch of conversation between two evidently hennaed punjabi woman, one of whom remarked:

'oye ji.. i hate malayalam'

i could understand how offensive semi-naked dark sri lankan men with their hair grown out acting most beastial would be to them. i share the sensibility after all. i then proceeded to pee next to amitav ghosh.

which bring me to the most important part...

the female abs. they're real. they exist. and they are to be seen to be believed. the titillation is so subtle.. from the fondling of the donkey's phallic lauki to the wild passionate expression of lust.. so artistic.. it's like having your hair tousled by a warm, gentle summer breeze.

so the play flies dudes. it's a feast for the senses. you should watch it if it comes your way. even if it's shakespeare with malayalam in it.