To me, the Delacort Theater in Central Park is the absolute perfect place to see Shakespeare. Set against the backdrop of the Turtle Pond and Belvedere Castle and enclosed with a scrim of trees, this open-air stage epitomizes the transition and balance between the urban zone and the woods, a dichotomy that Shakespeare frequently explored and, after all, the subject of this blog.
To attend Shakespeare in the Park at the Delacort is to cast yourself in a Shakespearean comedy. New York City can easily be aligned with Athens in A Midsummer Night's Dream or Milan in The Tempest, cities where obligation and law reign, where passion is restricted by culture and power is worth killing for. The C train ride uptown to 81st Street is clearly a shipwreck (akin to Viola’s in Twelfth Night) that leaves you gasping for air and thankful that you arrived unharmed at such an idyllic locale. The park is a world of freedom, magic and romance. And hotdogs. I really love those hotdogs... but I digress.
Shakespeare in the Park is always a cathartic experience for me, "converting all [my] sounds of woe/into hey, nonny, nonny!"* At least until I get back on the subway.
*William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, Act II, Scene iii
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