Pyramus and Thisbe, A Play Within a Play

A Midsummer Night's Dream

For the mechanicals' skit, we opted to go with very simple additions to the costumes. The script afforded us the luxury of no set, so these simple additions fit well. We reasoned that this rough group of blue-collar workers had thrown their show together in less than a week, and to have anything too elaborate would seem out of place. This was convenient as it was gentle on the budget and easy to accomplish in the actor's brief prep time between townsfolk and their alter-egos.

Bottom, arrogant as ever, decided that all he needed to become Pyramus was a wooden sword.

Tom Snout went slightly further, attaching a mottled scrap of fabric to the sleeves of his jacket to represent a wall. Wall, appropriately, performed his monologue rather stiffly.

For Flute, I had the distinct pleasure of creating an atrocious yellow wig out of yarn, designed to be as utterly unconvincing as it could possibly be. A bit of red makeup sloppily applied about the lips and cheeks, a shawl, and a red and white floral skirt to go with the red and white tweed vest Flute had worn throughout, made a perfectly awful leading lady. Johanna, on par with the rest of her performance, wore the skirt with every bit of clumsiness and self deprecation you would expect from the seventeen year old boy she was portraying.

Robin Starveling played the moon, adding a silvery blue wrap, a "bush of thorns," a small lantern, and rather pitiful stuffed dog. Because of the gender-bending we had done, and the lines about the man in the moon in the moon's monologue, Heather had tremendous fun delivering lines like "and I, the... man in the moon do seem to be," with a blush and a curtsy.

Snug, terribly concerned about frightening the ladies in the audience donned a paper machet lion mask with polka-dot blush, a heart-shaped nose, and crayola-colored curls.

The skit proceeded with the group's customary cheesiness, including the flirtiest moon the world has ever known, the sweetest lion snarls you ever heard, an impressively high-pitched shriek from young Flute, and a completely over-the-top death scene from Bottom, who drew out his "Die... die... die... die... die" line with repeated prostrations and flailing spasms.

And yet, when it came time for Flute to take her life, the script required that she turn in a performance as moving as the rest of the skit had been ridiculous. Johanna did not disappoint.

These six tremendous performers took what could have been a real buzz-kill, a momentum-crusher, and brought it up to the level of the rest of the lively show.


Photography in this entry by James Ratchford, Zachary Garber, and Molly Wilson