Seems that most of the theatre-folk I know have stories, myths, wives tales and ghost-stories that they trade and re-tell again and again.
Lately I’ve been pondering the origin of a story I have been telling for at least a decade now. The story involves a mounting of Shakespeare’s Midsummer which was performed outdoors somewhere in the states next to a lake.
Here’s what I remember…the show was scheduled so that through the course of the evening performances, the sun would gently set. Oak trees surrounded the stage and as the stars began to twinkle above, fire-flys would begin to flit around.
The scenic designer took great care to incorporate the breathtaking surroundings into the set-design. It was arranged so that when it came time for the emancipation of Puck, Oberon led the sprite the water’s edge just as a veil of mist began to drop into the valley. Once free, Puck faced the lake in exuberant joy and with his parting lines, sprinted towards the water. But when the audience assumed that Puck would turn and veer along the shore to avoid the lake, he picked up speed and never changed his course.
The set-builders had created a ridged ramp just a few inches beneath the water’s edge. Puck appeared to run across the water and disappeared into the mist!
To this day, I have been unable to find out where this show was mounted.
I’ve told the story a million times. I am enchanted by the idea of it all…but I have absolutely zero recollection of where my tale began.
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