The fate of Hermia (Faith Omole) at the start of director Sean Holmes’ technicolour take of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Globe echoes Boris Johnson’s steely resolve to leave the EU by Halloween in that she must “do or die”.

With “do” referring to the decree from the Athenian duke Theseus (Peter Bourke who doubles as Oberon) that she obey her father’s command to marry Demetrius (Ciaran O’Brien), despite the fact that she is deeply in love with Lysander (Ekow Quartey). And “die” referring to imminent death, a public flogging (as comically reenacted in a pre-show skit between baseball bat-wielding children and an effigy of an ass) or at the very least a celibate future corseted in the “livery of a nun”.

Schemes are plotted and spells are cast in the form of frequent shots from a herb-infused pea shooter, the firer of which being the “merry wanderer of the night” Puck whose role is split among several members of the 11-strong cast who are joined by a voluntold member of the audience who is encouraged to steal the show first as Starveling and later as “the person of Moonshine”.

Much inflatable bed-hopping abounds as the affections of the love-struck Athenians (including Amanda Wilkin as Helena) are manipulated like puppets by the king and queen of the fairies Oberon and Titania (Victoria Elliott who doubles as Hippolyta), the high points of their hokery-pokery being a blush-inducing ménage à trois and an almost thrush-inducing rendezvous between Titania and Bottom (Jocelyn Jee Esien) – the latter of whom is literally blowed courtesy of a phallic flute dangling from her underbelly.

To borrow the title of another Shakespearean romantic comedy, all’s well that ends well. And the happy-clappy sing-a-long to the Housemartin’s Caravan of Love (played with great warmth and gusto by five members of the Hackney Colliery Band) unravels the carnal noughts of confusion and ties them up into a perfect bow of marital bliss.

There really is no better way to experience Shakespeare than at the “Wooden O” of the Globe which this year celebrates what would have been the 100th birthday of its founder Sam Wanamaker. And Sean Holmes does a fine job of breaking down the barriers between players and groundlings, language and understanding, by frequently engaging the audience through direct address and participation.

All of which is executed with such playful glee – particularly by Jocelyn Jee Esien who radiates wink-knowing mischief throughout and Jean Chan whose outrageous costumes would give a flotilla of drag queens a run for their moolah – that like the courting couples you can’t help but be spellbound as they “ease the anguish of a torturing hour”. Hate is remedied by love. But what of Brexit? Answers on the back of a bus!

Peter Callaghan
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