Comedies and tragedies - two of the main types of plays Shakespeare wrote in his lifetime - both typically involve a transition, but they differ on what they're transitioning to and from. Tragedies typically begin in a good place for the main characters. Take Romeo and Juliet, for example - young and in love, we think they've already overcome the greatest adversity of their families' rivalry and are ready to live out their happy ending. Unfortunately, we couldn't be more wrong. The travesty which follows is as devastating as it is purely because we fell from such a high place. Comedies, on the other hand, tend to follow a reversal of this chronology, taking us from a low to a high so that the audience conversely experiences great jubilation and relief for characters who have weathered whatever storm that has plagued them towards the earlier acts of the play. The elation we feel for them is, again, heightened by the tribulation we experienced with them initially.
This is the case for A Midsummer Night's Dream, and what particularly compelled me about this comedy was that very transition, that morphosis, from low to high. This mechanism is especially inspirational for the audience, if they can identify some tried and true way in which they may better their lives. The play features three distinct worlds / peoples - Athens, the Wood, and the Rude Mechanicals. While the plot centers mainly on the passionate and chaotic Athenian lovers, what particularly piqued my interest was the world of the wood and its leaders, Oberon and Titania, respective fairy king and queen.
This other couple has all the marks of long love struggling to endure the wear-and-tear of marital hardship. As we are introduced to the two in the first scene of the second act, they are throwing (several) cheating accusations at one another and fighting over an Indian changeling boy whom they both desire. It doesn't exactly bode well as a first impression of a happy marriage. Further, their dissent seems to be causing an array of problems in both their world of the wood and that of Athens - interfering with the fairy dance, unleashing rheumatic diseases, interrupting the flow of the seasons, and more. The audience gets the sense that a single dispute can engender a plethora of consequences, as "when people overpower each other or try to overpower nature, the natural world can assert its own power to disrupt and destroy through disease and disaster" (Lupton). But as that same scene progresses, a poignant flow of raw emotions and justifications and good intentions begins to cut away at the lovers' hard edges of spite and resentment, instead shaping them into the smoother and more refined qualities of respect and compassion.
Tensions persist and the conflict remains largely unresolved at the scene's end, but we nevertheless witness a deep emotional maturation in each spouse's understanding and foresee the faint outline of reconciliation in the near future. As counterintuitive as it may seem, it's as if their fight - their collision of opinions and divergent desires - is a step forward. It hasn't quite cleared the air, but it's certainly identified what emotional species are present in it. In outpouring these heavy and large feelings, that air is just a little bit lighter due to the scene; amantium irae amoris integratio est - the quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love. In the folklore region of our minds, we tend to subdue fairies to the singular perception of whimsy and dancing and the notable absence of conflict. What A Midsummer Night's Dream does so elegantly is point out that this stereotype is rarely ever true. And while one might not think fairies are relevant whatsoever, I would point out that we also essentially espouse that same exact stereotype for marriage. We know that the commitment comes with its fair share of burdens - but then why do people stay in it? Why do it at all? Why do some marriages last while others don't? I think Oberon and Titania's fight addresses a lot of these questions, and that's why I wanted to stage this particular scene of AMSND.
Since my interest is in working through the hardships of marriage, I wanted to translate the scene to have themes and desires which a modern couple might understand more easily. To do that, I wanted it to be about a modern couple, in which elements of the original scene are reimagined. For instance, the changeling could be implemented in various ways. On one hand, Titania loved the boy deeply out of devotion to his mother, and Oberon wanted him too. With this, we can interpret the changeling literally - a young boy whose mother (a dear friend of Titania's) died recently in childbirth, and Oberon is unnerved and perhaps a tad jealous of this newfound sense of affection in Titania's life. But as a different interpretation, the changeling seemed a bit to me like an excuse for the two fairies to fight - a surface level issue that shielded the underlying conflict festering below: infidelity. While accusations of cheating were thrown out left and right in the opening words of the scene, their validity (or lack thereof) was never fully addressed. The two never pause to genuinely discuss and elaborate on each others' judgements - how true they are, how problematic it is, and how changes will be made, if at all, in the upcoming future. In this sense, the changeling could be virtually anything that Titania loves and doesn't want to share with Oberon. A mutual friend, a business opportunity, even money. Using the changeling as a sort of deflection seemed like a really intriguing idea to me as a means of making the core of the scene about the effects of cheating in a long-term relationship.
So this is what I envision:
a fight. verbal, dripping with emotion.
both participants suspect that the other has been cheating - perhaps with good reason, perhaps out of insecurity; it's unclear initially
Long-term relationship to me screams marriage. And I love the ambiguity that the suburbs hold - symbols of moderate wealth and supposed happiness, but what goes on inside these homes is unknown. There's both a literal and metaphorical dead end to a cul-de-sac. Suburbs to me are kind of like marriage in that sense - a strange in-between that says, "We've got it all, don't we?" but also, "Is this really it? Is this truly what I'm stuck with for the rest of my life?" The emotive possibilities are endless.
Just like Titania and Oberon's fight, I want to preserve this setting detail. Darkness imbues the scene with further ambiguity but also danger and metaphorical darkness - the concurrent sadness and tension that occur in a fight between two people who love, or are supposed to love, each other. The moonlight adds a touch of eeriness and tension to the atmosphere whilst also symbolizing the luminous hope which we hold onto that the couple will reconcile their differences.
I'd want the house to hold those signs of moderate wealth and the education that requires. A large oak bookshelf. A large dining table that signals the probability of children (who are not present in the scene itself). There's a cluttered mess on that table (not pictured) - a sign of indifference, giving up, and the disordered state of their relationship. The rest of the room is rather minimalist - the focus is ultimately on our lovers, props should give us information on their relationship rather than detract from its central nature.
In Oberon and Titania's fight, Titania lists a string of disastrous consequences that deal mainly with nature which their fight has wreaked upon both their world of the wood and the world of Athens. Since this serves as a more fanciful etiology for problems such as crop failure, disease, and intermixed seasons, the modern fight could deal with a different kind of nature. Perhaps their issues are having adverse effects on their work lives or even their children. Perhaps family has gotten wind of what's going on and rumors are spreading. Maybe the two are short on money or under a great deal of stress from work, both of which may affect a destructive cycle on the state of their marriage (hardship -> fighting -> hardship -> fighting...). The main theme persists from Oberon and Titania's fight that their division is incurring widespread ramifications, on themselves and those around them.
In most productions of AMSND which follow the play to the letter, Titania and Oberon are traditionally adorned with beautiful fairy garments distinct from typical human clothing. I'd want to flip this tradition upside down for my modern interpretation. Here, I think normal drab clothes would work well with a couple exceptions. For a married couple where the threat of mutual cheating looms high, they might try to look more physically appealing in their affairs than at home. I want evidence of both spheres to be reflected in the characters' clothing - since they're at home in the scene, a plain shirt and a pair of everyday pants might function well. But microscopic details - perhaps effortful makeup or the state of their jewelry - might shed light on their extraneous activities. For instance, if one character defiantly takes their ring off, the audience might see that the outer surface of the ring is dull and grimy whereas the inner part is clean and deduce that this character is taking their ring off when they go out, which keeps only the inside polished.
Since I want my adaptation to be performed on film, elements such as lighting, framing, and camera motion should be considered. For instance, the usage of chiaroscuro lighting, a style which emphasizes shadow and light, could supplement the symbolic themes of darkness and moonlight. To build a storyline told by the camera, the framing angles could change throughout the scene. If the characters are facing each other, framing could begin by focusing only on one character and then turning to the other when they speak. As cool demeanors tighten and tempers are lost, the camera could whip back and forth from spouse to spouse as the argument becomes faster and free-flowing. This might create a dizzying effect on the audience, reflective of the nausea that results from fighting.
Well, two. That's the point I'd want to make by transitioning the camera from our quarreling and oblivious lovers to a rat absent-mindedly roaming the house. Unfortunately for rats, they are the perpetual symbol of betrayal. Whether they're fleeing a sinking ship or spilling war secrets, rats hold a negative connotation. This can be used to the advantage of the scene in both allegory, symbolism, and cinematographic effect. Firstly, the spouses themselves are represented as rats - traitors - when they allegedly cheat on one another. The presence of the rat serves to exemplify that breaking of trust. Further, since the rat is typically seen as a filthy pest and potential rabies carrier, having one run around the couple's home enhances that theme of disorder prevalent in Oberon and Titania's passage and the filth characteristic of infidelity. Possessed by their fight, they initially neglect what consequences their dissension has on other aspects of their and others' lives. The rat shows that Oberon and Titania have lost sight of their immediate duties - to the state of the house itself, and in a broader sense, their own marriage. Their neglect spews ramifications. Thirdly, focusing on the rat as opposed to the main characters serves as a neat cinematographic trick. Becoming interested in the rat and having the spouse's voices drown out in the background might demonstrate how we tend to ignore or procrastinate on truly important emotional issues such as marital strife and dispose ourselves instead to more irrelevant aspects of life, like rats.
I started watching the show Ozark shortly after reading A Midsummer Night's Dream, and something clicked when I was trying to figure out what I should do for this webpage. Specifically, I saw the parallelism between Oberon and Titania and the show's characters, Marty and Wendy. Both are married couples suffering the strains of infidelity and hashing out their issues. The scene to your left in particular blew me away, and I thoroughly encourage you to watch this masterpiece. I think its emotional pang rings louder in the context of the whole show, but it stands strong even on its own.
As for a little context, Marty and Wendy have had to move their family out to the Ozark mountains in order to launder money for a Mexican drug cartel. I know, that's a lot. But what's at the heart of this scene is something couples are a bit more familiar with - cheating, and how to deal with it. After hiring a private investigator, Marty had known for a while that his wife, Wendy, was cheating on him, and even has video proof of their affair which he's watched several times. That's a little different from Oberon and Titania, who simply accuse each other of cheating with seemingly valid justification but no tangible proof. But similarly to the fairy rulers, everyone knows that Marty and Wendy are ultimately going to stick together. Money laundering and young children, after all, require solidarity.
I think it's especially crucial to appreciate the cinematography employed here. Cuts between each character to display equal representation of each spouse's emotions. The setting is so bare, but perfectly so. It shows the recency of their move and how this fight strips them down to the essence of their marriage, and perhaps even the lifelessness of their relationship. Dark lighting creates for an ominous mood. Both characters are visibly wearing their rings, signifying the ultimate endurance of their marriage but also more darkly, the necessity of it, as opposed to them being voluntarily in love. This "necessity, not desire" theme is revisited later on in the scene and is alarmingly relatable to Oberon and Titania. One could argue that their reconciliation was coerced, necessary to reestablish order in the world rather than being purely due to the everlastingness of love. The truth, as it is for Marty and Wendy, likely lies somewhere in the middle.
Another interesting bit is the camera periodically cutting to their daughter Charlotte who has swum too far out from the dock - just like how the affair has driven Marty and Wendy's relationship into deep danger. Charlotte's anxiety and her struggle to keep from drowning are also symbolic of our married couple's desperate attempts to keep their heads above water. The intensity of their argument is amplified by the increasing volume of sinister background music coupled with the characters' own voices.
What truly did it for me was the staggering anguish of Marty whispering his final line, "Oh, you broke my heart, Wendy." I remember having to pause it there and say, out loud, "Wow."
As a drama/crime show with stakes as high as death, it's fascinating that we remain so invested in the state of Marty and Wendy's marriage. Content about money laundering and drug cartels is normalized to the general audience with the inclusion of a suffering relationship, something that likely everyone can resonate with in some capacity. Just so, Oberon and Titania's argument and seemingly unrealistic world are filled with high stakes, but we continue hoping that they'll work it out - not only for the welfare of the whole world, but for themselves.
That being said, I really hope you enjoy and fully experience this scene.
For a deeper and more contextualized analysis of Oberon and Titania's fight in A Midsummer Night's Dream, I invite you to read my quarterly essay. Hopefully you might be able to note the similarities between my adaptation and elements of the true scene.
I loved this scene. What I strove to respond to here was the nuanced and yet ultimately optimistic nature of love which Shakespeare presents in A Midsummer Night's Dream. On the surface level, it doesn't look like that. We tend to idealize love as carefree bliss. Love, true love, is riddled with issues, but overcoming these obstacles through compromise and mercy and empathy and open-mindedness - that's what makes love strong. It persists in the face of hardship and endures adversity. In the play, we rejoice that the young Athenian lovers have resolved their differences and met their perfect match. But in reality, we know that the road ahead of them is inevitably long and taxing and yet, ultimately worth it. Titania and Oberon are exemplary of that. I think Shakespeare chose such strong characters to be derailed by real problems in order to caution us about over-glamorizing love. We might expect that fairy lords either don't have problems whatsoever or can deal with them easily, but this scene clearly shows that's not always the case. It's not always pretty. I wanted to adapt the scene into something even more relatable to someone today. Even in non-romantic relationships, I feel like everyone has experienced a strain like this due to the gravity of emotional weight attached to a particular person. And I wanted to make a scene where the person watching felt as though they could walk in and take the place and point of view of either one of the characters, and understand their exigency deeply. Because it was just that real. Being able to identify with both Titania and Oberon I think makes us more empathetic human beings capable of reconciliation in our own lives. I think it's interesting to note that at the end of the scene from Ozark, Charlotte (Marty and Wendy's daughter), who was trying to keep from drowning the whole time, reaches the lake's rock bottom. But after moments of temporary unconsciousness, she finally kicks back up to the surface, alive and well again. Love may be an uphill climb, but reaching the peak of common ground is certainly a worthy endeavor. <3
- Rushika