Glitter has the capacity and the utmost intention to be seen-but also to be worn, to be thrown and to stir fears of blindness into unsuspecting bystanders. But little did I know that the sparkle ointment/oil/cream also held the power of odor. This I learned standing on the dance floor of American Repertory Theater's The Donkey Show, thinking as I awkwardly hustled (meaning dancing, not rushing), "Am I-am I smelling glitter?"On Cambridge's Arrow Street stands a bouncer with a velvet rope dangling by his side, though the entrance to a club seems unlikely to be lurking behind him. Out of the unmarked door, two afroed, polyester-clothed, Italian-New Yorker pseudo twins-self-proclaimed "Kings from Queens"-walk out toward the patrons outside "the club." They are both named Vinny. They are both women. They are both hitting on me and my female companion. As they shrug off our shy refusals, they move on to the lone gray-haired woman behind us. They pass judgment on her lack of an escort, prompting her to respond, "I'm rather ambivalent about it myself."

ART's The Donkey Show is not simply a disco-dancing throwback packed with chest hair and hot pants-Shakespeare is involved. The show is a loose interpretation of A Midsummer Night's Dream, putting aside the language and providing the play's themes alongside '70s era pop music. Donkey Show retains the lovers' conflicts and quarrels, shortening names for modernity's sake (Hermia becomes Mia, Demetrius is renamed Dimitri, and so on) and using period tunes to dictate the progression of the tale. To describe the cast's singing as anything more than karaoke sing-along would be generous, but the ensemble's conviction (demonstrated as early as the Vinny duo's preshow antics) compensates for any lack of proper notes hit.

Also, the standards of acrobatics and flexibility (which, in retrospect, put a rather fitting spin on "loose" Shakespearian interpretation), prompted dropped jaws and gasps. Rebecca Whitehurst, playing both Tytania, club owner Oberon's butterfly-pastied girlfriend, and Sander, Mia's bell-bottomed beloved (yes, gender bending was a theme), at one point hung several feet above the audience's head-unsuspended-holding on to two pieces of fabric attached to the ceiling. Not only did she manage to lower herself, a feat in its own right, but the half-naked fairy queen was in a full split throughout the stunt.

Speaking of fairies, throughout, before and even after the show, a foursome of glistening, bare-chested men danced around the floor, blowing kisses from their green-painted lips and prodding audience members to participate. Initially their dance skills seemed limited to spins and semi-voguing, but once the show began, each fairy (Tom Fish, Cameron Oro, Eric Johnson and Mike Heslin) provided solos that exhibited the impressive range of their dancing abilities.

Though The Donkey Show managed to maintain a high level of entertainment throughout, like the roller coaster nature of the 1970s, it wasn't without some slight stomach-turning moments. The mock titular scene of The Donkey Show consisted of drug-induced Vinnys whose state of inebriation caused them to act like donkeys (actual donkeys, that is, not just the asses they already were). Cue drug-induced Tytania, whose stupor was provided by Oberon's giant crack pipe dose of some illicit substance, two ropes, a distorted vocal track and strobe lights. I daresay the show's Spinal Tap-like "huh?" dial was turned to an unprecedented 11.

In addition, Dr. Wheelgood, or "Puck on roller skates," at one point briefly donned assless chaps. The reason why can be found on the same page as the statistics of Studio 54's monthly patron cocaine consumption.

Though love via disco arrives not without the risk of near-rape, tight synthetic pants and large quantities of white powder, love it is-at least according to Mia and Sander, Dimitri and Helen. Looking around the dance floor of The Donkey Show, it was clear another kind of love was also being showcased. The range of ages, shapes, sizes and grasp of public decency was astounding. Initially it was difficult to gauge the number of hired performers because so many dance floor attendees seemed so involved and entranced with the show's theme. Euphoria is rare to encounter, and that kind of sensation is hardly expected to be provided by Shakespeare. But, for my money, if Shakespeare were around during the '70s, he'd probably interpret love as a drug-induced night at the disco, too.