One doesn't automatically consider Benjamin Britten as a child of Aquarius; but A Midsummer Night's Dream was written when the country was on the brink of a profound sociological and moral change. Martin Duncan's transgressive staging reminds us that Britten's Dream, along with LSD, psychedelia and swinging, was a product of the 1960s.Johan Engels' setting is, in every sense, groovy. The forest is formed from corrugated, translucent sheeting that suggests both tree stumps and fluted Athenian columns, while also seeming not unlike a giant, rubberised shower curtain. Combined with the giant bubbles floating overhead and Bruno Poet's liquid, aquamarine lighting, it begins to appear as if the action occurs at some splashily high-spirited, cosmic bath time.
The Dream is Britten's most other-worldly opera, whose strange, evanescent tone is dominated by the most extraterrestrial type of voice. The compelling young countertenor James Laing is becoming quite a master of sinister, ethereally pitched roles: he was outstanding as the Fox in Opera North's recent Pinocchio and is no less compelling here as an androgynously alien Oberon, his voice as sharp and scintillating as the diamante sarong and skull cap he is given to wear.Jeni Bern matches him well as a slinky Tytania, a true diva whose coloratura come-on to a confused donkey is remarkably seductive. Henry Waddington brays through the role of Bottom to great comic effect, while Colin Judson's turn as a transvestite Thisbe is a hoot.Among a fine quartet of lovers, Frances Bourne's smoky mezzo particularly impresses as a passionately aggrieved Hermia. I did wonder slightly at the decision to play Puck as a feral, flea-ridden cousin of Caliban from the Tempest, but Tom Walker scratches and slavers through the spoken-word part with acrobatic agility. Stuart Stratford's conducting is supple and responsive to the work's shifts in tonal colour, from the gamelan-inspired, percussive textures of the fairy kingdom to the roistering folk music of the rustic characters.Yet the vision that will persist the longest is that of the angelically sung yet decidedly sinister choir of boy-treble fairies, which Duncan conceives as a troupe of blond-haired, black-winged Hitler youth in their PE kit. This image is disturbing on so many levels it is hard to know where to begin; yet the most memorable Dreams are always those on the verge of turning into a nightmare.· In rep until May 24. Box office: 0844 848 2720. Then touring.
