I have something to confess. I fucking love Shakespeare. I know that might be a rare phrase to hear, especially if you struggled through lacklustre readings in high school English class, but I mean it. Between genuinely eye-wateringly bright concert-style stage lights, sparkles, confetti, and hearts on sleeves, The Lovers is remixed and refreshed retelling of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is the most beautiful gateway of getting adults into Shakespeare, redeeming the hours spent in stuffy classrooms with LitCharts open on laptops.
Even if you hated it, I promise it’s okay. You’re safe here, because The Lovers takes all the arguably best bits of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and cranks them up to 100 in a delicious display of new pop musical theatre.
Laura Murphy’s The Lovers, directed by Nick Skubij, makes me feel like I’m back in the classroom in the best possible way. It’s a testament to the capacity of what the Bard can be: loud, vibrant, funny, and hot.
Classic texts are only stuffy if you let them be, and The Lovers refuses to settle down.
Look, The Lovers is definitely not a direct representation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It doesn’t even contain the full show. I didn’t do a whole semester on the ethics and complexities of adapting texts (shout-out to 52695 Adaptations) to not realise the value in new works, even when they stray from the original; this also does not make them weaker, worse or less valuable than the touchstone text! Don’t be a dick. Also, a lot of the time, that kind of thinking is based in classism. Think about it. Sure, you might argue that the real plot and drama of A Midsummer Night’s Dream lies in the complex love quartet anyway, but The Lovers locks in on this to form a lucid new pop musical that combines Shakespearean dialogue with upbeat synth and casual slang to form a vibrant romp of a show.
Mark Brokenshire’s theories on adaptation decide that “the test of a good adaptation is one which achieves repetition without replication… [balancing] the comfort of ritual and recognition with the delight of surprise and novelty”.
The opening number of the show acts as a prologue, being quick to explain the straightforward premise of the show, and share its guarantees with the audience: it’s “love, and pop, and Shakespeare.” And that, it is.
If you’re familiar with A Midsummer Night’s Dream, then you’ll be very familiar with the confusing love-square that Oberon and Puck’s faerie meddling creates. If not, let me give you a run down. Hold on to your wigs.
So, Helena and Hermia are besties (the H names get confusing but try to keep up, okay?) and Hermia is in love with Lysander, who is characterised in this as the most pathetic little loverboy ever, and I adore it. Now, Hermia’s dad is trying to force her to marry fuckboy extraordinaire Demetrius, so Lysander and Hermia decide to run away together. Demetrius is a lot. He’s super into Hermia, but, as we’ve established, Hermia and Lysander are in love—Demetrius is the apple of Helena’s eye, though, even if he keeps friendzoning her and is kinda mean to her. We ride for Helena at dawn.
You get the picture: Hermia loves Lysander, Lysander loves Hermia, Demetrius loves Hermia, Helena loves Demetrius. Simple, right? Wrong. As Lysander and Hermia run away into the forest, Helena and Demetrius follow them. They all settle down for the night in a beautiful glade, separated and unable to find each other. Enter our meddlers, Oberon and Puck.
With love potions accidentally sprinkled on the wrong people (an easy miscommunication, you know how it is), we have a new situation on our hands. Now, Demetrius and Lysander are head over heels with Helena, who is convinced they’re just playing a big trick on her, and Hermia just wants her man back.
What ensues is a dramatic investigation of young love, as well as young lust, betrayal, friendship, and self-love, all on the backdrop of confetti and pastel costumes and neon lights. With only a cast of six actors with absolutely stacked previous credits, including Natalie Abbott (Muriel’s Wedding The Musical) as Helena, Loren Hunter (SIX the Musical) as Hermia, Jason Arrow (Hamilton) as Demetrius, Mat Verevis (TINA – The Tina Turner Musical) as Lysander, Jamie-Lee Hanekom (TINA – The Tina Turner Musical) as Puck and, much to our delight, Jenni Little (TINA – The Tina Turner Musical) covering the role of Oberon at our performance, the talented cast miraculously avoid the fear of small casts getting potentially boring over a long two hour show.
When asked about what I thought of the show, I just couldn’t stop talking about how fun it was. Sure, sometimes it might feel a little millenial-core, with the recurring references to swipe-based dating apps anchoring it solidly into this zeitgeist potentially to its chagrin in the future, but overall it’s simply a joy to watch. The audience on the night Vertigo attended clearly thought the same, too: gasping and giggling and hooting and hollering at every set change and kiss, the reception is what makes this show. It’s prime for going with a group of friends and sitting (maybe with one of the themed cocktails, who’s to say) and gossiping at intermission, revelling in the colours and sounds and Cupid-cowboy themed outfits with a kind of energy that nearly spilled out of Theatre Royal’s curved façade.
The show somehow toes the line between biting at the original text and the ridiculous follies of romance, while still taking everyone’s feelings seriously. Everything comes together to prove what we know to be true: having a crush literally ruins your life. Dating fucking sucks. And at the end of the day, you are the only guaranteed person you’ll spend your life with, so you may as well enjoy it.
The Lovers is only in town at Theatre Royal for a few more days, closing on Sunday November 16th. The beautiful people at Theatre Royal gave us a link for Under 30s to get $49 tickets here to Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday performances, which we put on our story, so if you missed it, this is your final lesson. Thank you to the cuties at Theatre Royal, as always!
Note: Vertigo received tickets in exchange for review.
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