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A translation of director Max Reinhardt’s Hollywood Bowl production, A Midsummer Night’s Dream is one of the most sumptuous, shimmering, and enthralling adaptations of Shakespeare’s work. Yes, the use of movie stars was and remains controversial (the more things change, right), but there’s surprises aplenty in discovering how wonderful, say, James Cagney is with the language. Combining ballet interludes, expressionistic visuals, Shakespeare’s language, and a general air of magic throughout, this is a film from the golden age ripe for rediscovery.
Here is the first big budget crack at the Bard during the talkie era, and it combines elements of accepted “High Art” like classical music and dance with the new-kid-on-the-block energy of the cinema. The results are a prestige film that doesn’t feel entombed in its own sense of self-importance but alive with mirth and fun. Several Shakespearean films feel bloated or overwrought with self-importance forgetting that his works were supposed to be fun or thrilling or achingly romantic, depending on their primary mood.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream is one the better-known romantic comedies filled with mistake identities, love triangles (or maybe a square?), hammy actors, and the faerie folk. There’s a lot going on, but it is never boring or hard to follow. The delineation between the “regular” world and the “forest” world is clearly marked, so when the magical elements come into play, we know we’re in the other realm.
To summarize: Hermia (Olivia de Havilland, feisty in her debut) loves Lysander (Dick Powell, even he knew he was out of his depth), but her father has her betrothed to Demetrius (Ross Alexander). Theseus, Duke of Athens (Ian Hunter) tells her she either marries Demetrius or becomes a nun who worships Diana, goddess of the moon. While Helena (Jean Muir) pines for Demetrius from afar. The four of them wind up in the woods where the fairies play tricks on them and the young lovers find themselves in a screwball comedy of sorts.
In honor of Theseus’ upcoming marriage to Hippolyta (Verree Teasdale), Peter Quince (Frank McHugh) and his players are preparing a production of Pyramus and Thisbe. Nick Bottom (Cagney) is the main player you need to know as his head is transformed into a donkey and he engages in a romance with Titania, Queen of the Fairies (Anita Louise). They do eventually perform their play for the royal court, and it is a hilariously incompetent production that alternates between hammy theatrics and unprepared obtuseness.
Now we get to the fairies: Oberon (Victor Jory) and Titania are in a fight over a changeling, and Oberon has Puck (Mickey Rooney, best in show) play tricks on, well, just about everybody. Eventually, Oberon and Titania reconcile, attend the wedding, and bless the house. We wrap with Puck’s address to the audience about what we’ve just seen was nothing more than a dream.
And what a dream it is! The forest world is alive with twinkling lights, scenes of fairies descending and dancing upon the mist, and glittering costumes that seem made out of thorns, tinsel, and flowing fabrics. It’s no wonder that this wasn’t just the first Shakespearean film to be nominated for Best Picture, but the only win to ever win a write-in Oscar. Hal Mohr’s gorgeous work was somehow not officially nominated, but it deservedly won anyway.
There’s also the chance to see surprising work from cinematic greats. Cagney goes full bluster for Bottom, and it is a refreshing demonstration of range from an actor so synonymous with gangsters. Olivia de Havilland is positively lovely and dynamic as Hermia as she gives the role a fiery, independent core that’s quite nice. But I cannot write enough nice things about Mickey Rooney’s Puck, a performance that is so broad that it remains a love-it-or-hate-it prospect to this day. I find Puck to be a role that can handle as much limitless energy as a performer can throw into it, and Rooney had a lot of energy. He giggles, cackles, and throws himself about with an abandon that threatens to incinerate the celluloid.
Not quite like any other Shakespearean adaptation, or even any film from the era, this is a under heralded classic. Sure, it’s not without its flaws, but it is a pleasing little surprise that manages to give due to the love stories and the otherworldly in a way that makes the entire thing feel like cinema straight from the tap. There’s magic and foolishness here, and, perchance, 133 minutes of an enchanting dream.
