‘What happens in Macbeth?” I ask my 10-year-old daughter Hilda. “Macbeth wants to be king and he kills some dudes,” she replies. “And there’s some witches.” What, then, might those weird sisters get up to when all the hurly-burly of the play is done? The answer comes from the team behind Midsummer Mechanicals, a sort of sequel to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, who are back with a batty brew of sketches, a somewhat tangled plot and more Bard in-jokes than you could shake Prospero’s staff at.
The concept will appeal just as much to fans of Jill Murphy’s The Worst Witch. Rosemarie Akwafo is engaging as the Mildred Hubble-esque Nona, a junior witch who has blotted her spell book with a series of blunders including mislaying essential potion ingredients and what is repeatedly referred to as “the Macbeth incident”. It becomes clear she is Shakespeare’s third witch who – much to the other two’s disapproval – told the thane that he “shalt be king” and effectively sparked a bloodbath.
The audience are apprentices introduced to the ways of this coven with a series of interactive episodes about fairies, ghosts and spirits. There are supporting roles for Puck (mocked for his own magical mishaps) and a certain Henry IX, who calls us “maggots” with more disgust than even Miss Trunchbull could muster. I haven’t heard this many boos since panto season.
Hilda loves bad puns so enjoys hearing how ghosts unlock doors (with a spoo-key!) and is also pleased with the play’s line in nonsense words (“magiwangle” anyone?) She laughs when the other witches, Audeja (Bryony Twydle) and Morai (Janet Etuk), temporarily find themselves acting like a cat and a toad, and likes watching so many audience members join in (“as long as I don’t have to go on stage,” she murmurs). The show is partly tailored around our contributions, which propel the plot, including a section when we are all encouraged to yawn – a risky strategy for a kids’ show.
The theatre’s trapdoors are cleverly used for surprise exits and entrances so that the staging occasionally resembles an outlandish pop-up book. Hilda particularly has a soft spot for the red-tentacled creature (from “Neptune’s ocean” perhaps) living beneath the stage and suggests the next show could be all about it. Rose Revitt’s designs are a delight.
“I thought the witches would be more, like, wooo-oooh!” Hilda says. But she thinks all three are great fun, not scary, and Kerry Frampton, who co-wrote the play with composer Ben Hales, is a ringleader of mischief in roles including Henry IX. Lucy Cuthbertson’s production, with additional direction by Frampton, is warm-spirited and well-paced. The young audience particularly enjoy when any potentially boring bits are fast-fowarded by the actors.
Plays that close by extolling the wonders of drama can end up irritating instead. But Rough Magic concludes with a moving reflection on the spirit in which we make our entrances and exits at the theatre, and the wizardry that binds us in between.
At Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, London, until 24 August
