Inception of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

         What struck me most acutely about my re-reading of A Midsummer Night's Dream was the association Shakespeare draws between the unquestionable power of the fairies’ magic and the ever-present, universally understandable conflict of love. To Puck, making humans fall in love with one another is a simple task, and being a creature of the forest, this enforces the idea that this (falling in love) is a natural process. Ironically, Bottom haphazardly gains the affections of Titania without even trying (and against all “reason”). This seems to imply that the magical flower is not merely a plot device, but a metaphor for the inherently chaotic nature of human affection. In contrast, the struggles of Bottom and the Athenian craftsmen, in their attempt to recreate the classic romance of Pyramus and Thisbe, seem foolhardy and artificial. Perhaps Shakespeare is saying that as an artist he can only try to present a reflection of something far greater; the human experience is beyond the power of the actor, the playwright, to properly evoke. Any attempt at propely mirroring its majesty could only come across as a frail mocking.

         This thought gives Puck's final lines extra emphasis. Shakespeare is not apologizing for his play in of itself. He is apologizing for the inability of the production to represent something that could otherwise be taken as “magical”. Love remains beyond our understanding despite our constant exposure to it. By performing a play about something so elemental, are they in fact, doing its glory a disservice? In that case, it would be better noted as a “dream”.

         The notion of a production as a dream, a dream shared by audience is one I am particularly intrigued by. The summer's blockbuster film Inception brought up similar ideas, serving as an allegory for the production team (in this case, of a film) attempting to construct a “dream” for it's audience. Cobb stands in as the overseer, mastermind, director. (DiCaprio states in one particular interview that he based his characterization of Cobb primarily on Christopher Nolan himself, the director of the film.) Ariadne as an “architect” serves the same purpose as a pre-production screenwriter, planning where the dream will take us. Eames is obviously the master thespian, perfectly convincing us he is someone else. Arthur and Yusuf serve as background technicians and engineers, the gears that run the machine. Saito funds the entire project and like many producers, tends to get too involved in the production process. Most importantly is Cillian Murphy's Fischer. He serves as the target for the dream, and represents the audience. It becomes the job of the production team to convince him of the false reality in the moment. Just as with any movie-going experience, they have the opportunity to share a dream as a coalesced group.

         The notion of preparing a story with the elicit purpose of sharing an idea is the root of storytelling itself. From Aesop to ancient cavemen priests, tales were told with the intention of implanting knowledge as well as sharing experiences. If a story, however told, is understood as an enveloping illusion, then how far apart can it be from a dream? What is the difference between a “lived” dream (the viewed play, a reflection) and a dreamed “life” (our reality)?