Last month, Manchester’s Royal Exchange Theatre cancelled its production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Previews had already begun; the press opening, already delayed by injuries, was imminent.
The show’s director, Stef O’Driscoll, went public. Her vision for Shakespeare’s wonderland was set in Manchester’s drum’n’bass scene, and the Royal Exchange had pulled the plug because she’d included a rap, performed by “a trans politically conscious mechanical”, containing the phrases “free Palestine” and “trans rights”. Palestine was the sticking point. The theatre had censored her, O’Driscoll alleged, in what was “not an isolated incident but reflects a growing trend of censorship and fear-driven decision-making in the arts”. Theatre’s online communities went into overdrive. Equity denounced “a growing culture of censorship created by funders and pressure groups”. Yet some staff told me a different story. Everyone agrees the show was running far behind schedule. One cast member described tech rehearsals as “a clusterfuck”. With days to go, O’Driscoll introduced not just a rap, but audience participation games and a call-and-response exercise that would have roused the audience to take part in the “free Palestine” chant.
