In 1998, just as I was starting to get away from blockbuster schlock and into more interesting, less mass-appeal, type films, I was at a screening for a Leonardo DiCaprio film entitled The Man in the Iron Mask, a new adaptation of an old novel that I knew about but had missed out on reading in any of my English classes in high school. At that screening, there was a trailer for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, another new adaptation of an old text, this time from William Shakespeare. At the time, I knew nothing of this particular play, but the trailer was frenetic and looked a bit insane. Naturally, I wanted to see it. An unfortunate thing happened, though. The only theater in town showing it somehow developed a screen tear and cancelled all showings of the film. I ended up not seeing the movie until about a year later when I rented it on VHS. It turned out to be the type of film that needed that large screen experience, and watching it on my tiny 19” TV at home, cropped for Pan and Scan, left me underwhelmed. My recollection of that viewing is spotty at best, and, until recently, I couldn’t have told you what that story was even about.
Fast forward to this morning. I didn’t revisit the 1999 film because I didn’t want anything to skew my expectations going into 1935’s adaptation. I have never seen the play performed nor have I read the original text. I knew little of what I was getting into other than that this is one of Shakespeare’s comedies. For the first fifteen minutes, I’m struggling to keep track of all the different characters and how they relate to each other. Then the scene shifts away to an acting troupe, and I’m struggling even more because I have a whole secondary group of characters to keep track of who seemingly have nothing to do with the first group. Then a third group is introduced: fairies and magical creatures and a big ensemble ballet-esque dance production, and I’m beginning to think I’m never going to jive with this picture. It’s not until Puck appears that I am finally able to start putting it all together and get a sense of who is who and how it all connects. Now, should I rewatch the entire film over again, I feel I could better appreciate the first thirty minutes of this production.
The film is basically a sex farce, tamed down for audiences of the 1930s. This means that the more risqué elements are merely hinted at rather than explicitly shown the way later versions of this play would be. The blatant sexuality of the story was expanded on in one of Woody Allen’s early films, A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy, a film that is far more tame than the title would suggest but takes the basic structure of the play and makes it into a contemporary comedy of errors.
For the 1935 film, a screenplay was drafted based on the popular Hollywood Bowl production of the play that had debuted the previous year. It featured elaborate musical numbers and a ballet sequence choreographed by world-famous Russian ballet veteran Bronislava Nijinska. His influence can be seen throughout and gives the film a distinct look and feel that is absent from the other adaptations. So much emphasis was placed on the music and dance numbers, though, that it slows down the story and becomes tedious after a while. The big, showy ballet number holds up the plot of the film at a time when the story hasn’t really gotten into motion yet.
We open with scenes involving a couple, Hermia (Olivia de Havilland) and Lysander (Dick Powell), who are forbidden to marry y her father; a man, Demetrius (Ross Alexander), is in love with Hermia, and another woman, Helena (Jean Muir), is in love with Demetrius. The couple flees into the woods to elope, and Demetrius pursues them to try and win Hermia over. Helena pursues Demetrius in the hopes he will fall for her instead. They all fall asleep in separate areas of the woods.
From here, the scene abruptly shifts to a group of actors preparing for a performance of a stage play about the cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe in honor of Duke Theseus (Ian Hunter) and his upcoming marriage to Hippolyta (Verree Teasdale). The troupe includes Quince (James Cagney), who is overzealous, suggesting changes to the story as well as wanting to play multiple parts at the same time. Eventually, they somewhat resolve things and set out through the woods on their way to the marriage ceremony.
After all of this setup, we get the big ballet number that is pretty to look at but holds up the story for far too long. Once it wraps up, a third story emerges. The King of the Fairies, Oberon (Victor Jory), is arguing with Titania (Anita Louise) over the use of her Indian changeling because the child’s mother was one of her worshippers. To punish her, Oberon orders Puck (Mickey Rooney) to pluck a flower called “Love-in-idleness,” struck and altered by Cupid’s bow, that will make whomever is exposed to its liquid fall in love with the first thing they see. He pours some of the liquid on Titania’s sleeping eyelids thinking she will wake and fall for an animal in the woods. Puck, meanwhile, by order of Oberon, is to also apply the liquid to Demetrius but accidentally pours some onto the sleeping eyelids of Lysander, not knowing the one from the other. When Lysander wakes, he first sees Helena and instantly pursues her instead of Hermia. With Lysander now chasing Helena, Helena chasing Demetrius, Demetrius chasing Hermia and Helena chasing Lysander, chaos ensues while Puck sits back and enjoys the insanity he has wrought.
On top of that, Puck, playing his silly games on more than just the love birds, has come across the acting troupe and transformed Quint into a donkey, causing the rest of the troupe to flee in fear, leaving him behind. In his distress, he wanders off into the woods and comes across Titania, who awakens and falls immediately in love with him, showering him with all the comforts available to her from the woodland fairies. Love is in the air and everyone is under its spell.
Going into this film without at least a passing understanding of the basic story beats can seem daunting at first. There are a lot of characters to keep track of, and the story jumps around a fair bit at first. Once everyone is in the woods and things really start to happen, the tone of the film begins to emerge, and it becomes less of a costume drama and more of the farcical comedy it is supposed to be. Indeed, the first scene of the movie feels like a period drama about love and parents refusing a young couple to marry. This scene is followed by the opening scene with the acting troupe that is played so broadly it almost feels like an improv session with James Cagney running away with the sketch. Then the tone abruptly switches again to the heavily choreographed ballet number with the fairies dancing and floating through the trees and over the waters. This film’s first half hour feels like it cannot make up its mind what tone it is going for. Once all three plots begin to merge, though, it settles down and stays tonally consistent for most of the remainder of the film.
A major problem this film has is that none of the four leads, Demetrius, Lysander, Helena, and Hermia, do much to stand out as distinct characters. There is simply not enough written into the script for them to do to develop their characters beyond the surface level. The same can be said for Quint and his story, but this is somewhat redeemed by the wonderfully over-the-top performance by James Cagney, who is showing that he can be more than a gangster or stoic hero type. Cagney had a range that was often not explored in his early studio pictures, but it is on display here. His over-the-top energy elevates every scene he is in, stifled only when he’s forced to wear the donkey mask.
Mickey Rooney, on the other hand, is hamming it up so much that it is often off-putting and grating. He is playing Puck like a hyperactive tween who has gotten into too much candy and coffee. Puck is supposed to be impish, and Rooney’s interpretation is that, but it’s dialed up to eleven and is just too much. He was reprising his stage performance in this film, and it feels like he’s still projecting to the back of the theater when a film doesn’t need to be that big.
There is so much to like about this film, but there is a lot that is very dated and doesn’t hold up after all these years. It has pacing and tonal issues to spare and often takes moments and runs with them for far too long. This includes the ending, which consists of the acting troupe finally getting to perform their play for the Duke and Hippolyta. This plays out for nearly twenty minutes and comes after all of the basic plot is wrapped up and the film should be ready to end. Some of this stuff is funny, but it’s too much to have it all play out. It desperately needed to be trimmed down by quite a lot.
As a production of Shakespeare, this is worth visiting. It’s big and bold, and the production value is first-rate. But it moves in fits and starts and far too often halts the story to fit in a musical number or other asides. In the end, it is just too bloated and cannot sustain the extensive run time, making it feel exhausting to get through at times. James Cagney is a real highlight here, and it’s interesting to see Olivia de Havilland in her first screen role, but beyond that, there is just too much of everything else. It was mostly panned by critics at the time, although it has been somewhat reevaluated in the years since. It did get a Best Picture Academy Award nomination, so the Academy saw something more in it at the time. Ultimately, though, it’s more of a curiosity now than a film worth seeking out, unless you happen to be a big fan of Shakespeare and/or this play in particular.
Academy Award Nominations:
Best Picture: Henry Blake
Best Assistant Director: Sherry Shourds
Best Cinematography: Hal Mohr (won)
Best Film Editing: Ralph Dawson (won)
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Release Date: October 30, 1935
Running Time: 143 Minutes
Not Rated
Starring: James Cagney, Joe E. Brown, Dick Powell, Jean Muir, Victor Jory, Verree Teasdale, Hugh Hubert, Anita Louise, Frank McHugh, Ross Alexander, Ian Hunter, Mickey Rooney, Olivia de Havilland, Hobart Cavanaugh, and Grant Mitchell
Directed By: Max Reinhardt and William Dieterle
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