n what we would have done differently,had we directed the play. Perhaps something we expected to see on stagewas omitted; perhaps! something unusual was added. We might even samplethe same play dozens of times, all performed by different companies; itis common, it is even expected, that none of the twelve interpretationswill be much the same. Unlike with reading, with viewing we are notallowed to sample the play in whatever manner we want. As the audience,our experiences are directed. We must resign ourselves to be thetwo-hour subject of another's whims and methods. This kind of challengeis usually very enlightening, bringing new thoughts and perspectiveswhere we would otherwise have only our own. These new thoughts andperspectives often materialize in the form of visual and auditorydetails, mostly because the script stays generally the same. Viewing anactual performance adds depth and detail to what was before only words. We are given scenery, costumes, voices, faces, body movements, and otherforms of physical (rather than verbal) expression that contribute to aparticular feel. These types of details are in reality just instances ofthe direct!or s influence, interpretations and preferences that cause usto challenge our initial ideas, and accept us a possibly richer taste ofthe play. Because I was involved in two scenes of A Midsummer Night's Dream,viewing this play on film held particular interest for me. I oftenfound myself looking to the films for ideas on how to play a character,or a scene. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, for originality'ssake), neither of the films we reviewed portrayed A Midsummer Night'sDream in a way that particularly struck me. The 1935 Reinhardt editionseemed to me overdone in nearly every respect. The characters were muchtoo Roman, the actresses quite over-dramatic, the fairies andblack-winged bats far too many in number, and the movie, in general, waytoo long. The author of "Max Reinhardt and William...
