Essays

"Puck, I'm Invisible."

"Puck, I'm Invisible." - 23/1/11

“I’m invisible” said Oberon matter of factly as he waved his hand at the troupe. The players startled at his presence and then nodded and winked at each other as they absorbed the fact that the statue had come to life and had talked to them. It was as if such occurrences were normal and so it may have been in ancient Athens or else Shakespeare may not have envisaged such compilcations as the entreaty of a statue to believe in its invisibility.

The play unfolded and I was swept up in its rich tapestry of words and inuendo. Lysander loves Hermia but so does Demetrius; but he is loved by Helena. Meanwhile King Oberon seeks to teach his wife a lesson and gain for himself the son of the Indian king. Ah alas, I do digress for that is not this story.

It was a version of ‘The Dream’ laid before us at the Everglades open air stage to which I refer. That National Trust property so loved of gardeners and players alike. For it was purpose built in the 1930s for such as the Shakespeare Festival, and ‘As you Like It’ “Romeo and Juliet’ in ‘A Midsummers Night Dream’ is what the night was. For my love and I strolled about the village then alighting the trolley bus we approached said gardens with excitement. Finding the audience mostly already assembled we smiled and nodded and laid out our picnic on the last of the inviting turf. Our fare arranged we were told of the death of Dr David Finalyson MacSwan, the Australian patron of Shakespeare at the Sea and hence inspiring the many outdoor festivals that celebrate the Bard. We were asked to stand and as is the tradtion applaud him, his work  and his memory.

We were then informed of the curfew imposed by the Blue Mountains Council and the fact that we would be finishing by 9 o’clock. The players by the council’s edict needing to have vacated the stage by said time or 5000 dollars, ducats, shekels, or whatever denomination of blood money was required would have to be payed in fines. All this because a neighbour refuses to accept her location next to an outdoor theatre and has waged a twenty year battle to have her ignorance and biggotry made law. Perhaps she is lonely and as with scrooge seeks for others also to suffer. Perhaps as a child she was slighted in her ambition to stroll the stage of the world. Perhaps some fiend or cadd or bounder had made her his plaything and she has sought revenge ever since. Perhaps she needs to be included in the comings and goings of such events and so feel she is fulfilled by the fruitful spending of her later years. Whatever the fates had bestowed upon her, the players before us that night gave forth a rendition of ‘The Dream’ as great as any and more so, for its clever use of the hedges and walls and collonaded frolic. The twilight softened, mistress Moon played amidst the branches while Rosellas and King Parrots frolicked in their own play of life and love. 

It seemed as if Oberon himself had caste his clever eye upon our gathering and observing the sacredness of our intent and the good natured rendition of himself, winked at us and sent his faithful Robin Goodfellow to enrich our company. For the Kookaburras gave forth when merriment was before us. Magpies fed their noisy offspring and a rainfrog chuckled his joy in the evening dew and called for a mate to lay her eggs in some small collection of rain drops in a tree hollow.

As the players strutted their stuff and proved once again the timeless poingnancy of the Bards work, our laughter and applause came unbidden at their cleverness. At the speed and agility of the twinned Puck. At the slapstick presentation of the rival lovers conflict and of the vehement pleadings of the thwarted maidens in their pursuit of love lost. We laughed also at the players skillful and timely movement around the audience, and most especially at the inclusion of my young son to draw forth Oberon’s sword that Titania had secured in the earth.

With the evening upon us and the footlights giving us vision of the players in their exuberance of Pucks clumsy mishandling of the lovers dilemma and of Titania’s enchantment; it did seem to me that yes, Oberon and his ilke could well be residing with us and chuckling in their own way at our pleasure. It was amidst this revelry as Oberon again clapped his hands to still the mortals and make his plan real that I saw in the corner of my eye a flicker in the moonlight. The rainfrog called again and other denizens too seemed to increase in their chorus.

As Oberon again clapped his hands it was this time as if a distant thunder coincided and all before me even Oberon were frozen in their place. A rippling of the air as in heat haze and the world of faery opened to ours. I souht my loves eye and saw that she and my son were also entranced and stilled in time and space. I looked back to the shimmering being now before me. “A good likeness methinks!” said an older yet more rustic King of Faery. “Nay Lord, tis not you, but what they think of you.” “Aye good Robin, that is always the way now attention here if you would.” Puck was to me a beautifully lichened Green Man, with skin of moss and leaf and bark yet fire twinkling from his eyes and starfire lingering on his fingertips. Oberon was not clear, as if only part of his being shimmered in and out of the air before me. I chuckled thinking of quantum entanglement and multidimensional beings and this was my mistake. “Ah a mortal immune to my enchantments,” he said and pierced me with his gaze. “I am invisible,” he spoke directly to me, but I felt nothing alter.

“Ah no your not,” I responded, immediately regretting my forthrightness which has oft been received with vexed reaction. I did not stay my tongue and quipped, “Nay my Lord, I oft see what others are blind to!” Oberon leant his head to the side as if determing which form of faery trickery he would ruin the rest of my life with.

“A mortal with honesty and the courage to speak his mind,” Oberon said turning to Puck. “What say you my goodly Puck. Should this fellow tarry the night with one of my ladies maid servants and wake fifty years later to find all he knew has gone?” “A goodly jest, Im sure my Lord.” “Perhaps he sorrows for some loss and hopes we would put that right and in so doing he would pledge the rest of his mortal life to us?” Oberon quipped now himself and leant his head to the other side. “Nay my Lord, for I see his mind and his time of troubles is upon him as is so with many here tonight. Leave him Lord he is nothing to us.” “Ah my goodly Puck you miss the mark of his sight. For he has seen us and in that he has some remarkedness.” Oberon turned to me, “What say you fellow is your sight worth keeping or should I return you to the blissful blindness of others?”

I did not pause in response, “such bliss would be welcome my Lord, but I fear that as with many tis my lot to speak what I see and seek not the favour of those I regale.” Oberon laughed and Puck frowned, “if by your words your listeners banquet, then you have your curse mortal and I for one seek not to remove a thing of such beauty.” “Lord?” quizzed Puck. “Goodly Robin, what would you do to such a one whose head is full of words and who for many doth provide a feast yet has not recompense for his art. Tis so Mortal?” “Aye my Lord, you most eloquently state that which is both gift and curse, for those I would want to listen have their own heads full of words and fears and do not tarry with those of others!” Oberon turned to Puck, “Would you alter this dear Puck for all mortals are so afflicted.” “Nay my Lord tis a curse indeed to have minds stuffed full with words and yet be clouded by fear, flooded by desire and still not noweth ones true heart. Nay my Lord tis a fine curse!”

Oberon pierced me with his eye, “so mortal I will bless you a while with sleep and upon waking as with these others you will perhaps remember a dream of our passing.” Puck jumped to my side and looked deeply into my heart. “If by such memories you are inspired then make such ado with your words as nothing may stand in their way. Tarry not upon this dream of a midsummers night but seek out those whose shrew like untamed minds need your words like disunited lovers. Perhaps in this you can then rest and not haunt the keep of your heart.” Oberon smiled softly and a twinkle seemed to pass from his eye to mine and I drifted into a dream where slights were forgiven, pain was absolved and players strutted the stages of the world without the uncouthness of city officials and the spitefulness of the lonely.

The play was concluded upon the stroke of nine and was most marvelously presented for the players enthusiasm for their art was such a joy in itself to behold. Methinks that opposition to such a celebration of the bard is but a midsummers night dream.