Finally, a bit of culture. Sort-of. Sh*t-faced Shakespeare is based on a relatively simple proposition: a group of classically trained actors perform a pared-down production of the Swan of Avon’s work. The twist: one of the cast is chosen, at random, to drink for four hours before curtain up.
What could go wrong? Many things. Many wonderful things.
The play in question last night was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. A sympathetically-trimmed one at any rate. Gone were the rude mechanicals, the court of Theseus and most of the faeries. This version concentrated on the two young couples – Hermia, Lysander, Demetrius and Helena – and Puck, the mischievous sprite who accidentally inspires the lovers’ misfortune. The other player was a top-hatted compare whose main role was to police the drunken member of the cast to prevent anything happening that might result in a court case.
Last night it was Demetrius’ turn to get pie-eyed. Fuelled on a Budweiser with a two-thirds of a bottle of gin chaser, he was a hilarious engine of chaos from the moment he staggered on to the stage. The verse as written deserted him quite early on, but he sailed forward on the crest of lewd commentary, faux-Shakespearean waffle and giggling.
He may have “dried”, but he wasn’t allowed to go dry. Throughout the show he was topped up with several fruit ciders. Because who wants to sober up in the middle of Shakespeare comedy? I know I never did.
Demetrius’ supplementary tippling didn’t bolster the integrity of the play as a work of theatre, but added to the show as a Bacchanalian spectacle. Especially after he started dispatching various items of other actors’ costume into the auditorium and then made a break for it, only to be dragged back on to the stage by the rest of the cast.
Not that it was just Demetrius who got all the laughs. The other actors deftly wove his outbursts into the weft of the play and added many hilarious asides of their own.
And Puck managed to delight quite a few ladies – and presumably gentleman – in the audience with his sinewy form, lusty gyrations and brazen asides. The way he applied his “magical love juice” to young lovers’ eyes will stay in the memory for quite some time.
And he wasn’t even the one who was plastered.
What resulted was a bristling comedy of misrule that managed to stay faithful to the anarchic spirit of the original text. It might sound simple, but you can’t count on generating a knock-out hilarious comedy simply by intoxicating one of the actors. In less sympathetic hands this could easily have been flat and self-indulgent.
But with a talented and quick-witted group of actors shoring up the drunken heroics of their inebriated compatriot, what you’re left with is a mirthful adventure that shook gales of laughter from a delighted and scandalised audience.
