While there are many moments of Tragedy, an unspoken instance occurs when a production gathers together great talent to support a weak script. While it's sacrilegious to profane the Swan of Avon by saying that William Shakespeare wrote unworthy works, there are a few that are not up to the level of his genius. One of those scripts is his early lowbrow reworking of Roman playwright Plautus' Menaechmi, The Comedy of Errors (written 1590-1592, performed between 1592 and 1593). Unencumbered by many of the burdens of his other scripts, such as impeccable source material, a semi-believable plot, depth of character, consistently intelligent wordplay, and at some points even a simple raison d'être, this piece plays like a vehicle for the Three Stooges. Needless to say, I'm not a fan, though there are some who appreciate Shakespeare-lite. With this in mind, I find it tragic that Graham Whitehead has brought together a generally talented cast and come up with an interesting Mexican festival theme in which to couch this inferior piece. Some of the fault, though, lies in the stars, and not just in the text. While the cast is exhaustingly energized, there seems to have been more of an emphasis put upon the slapstick in rehearsal, and less on the spoken word. As a result, Phoenix Theatre offers a production that trips heavily both on the stage and on the tongue.
Rather than take away poor Wes Martin's character's entire existence as exposition personified, let me sum it up like this: two sets of twins separated, two unfriendly countries, and lots of confusion when those twins are in the same town on the same day unbeknownst to the other.
Mr. Whitehead has concentrated almost exclusively on physicality and concept. Imagine The Road to Ephesus during the Mexican Day of the Dead festivities, with every pratfall ever imagined choreographed into it. If based on sheer exertion, this play should be a success. So much slapstick can get tedious, though, just as a Shakespearean tome delivered at a dizzying pace can be overwhelming. The ensemble seems more like ADD sufferers than classically trained performers. Most guilty of this mania are Ben Brittain and Jon Gentry as the slave Brothers Dromio. These two are in need of Valium, and some of their plot-explaining lines are lost while being used to sweep the stage by Randy Messersmith and Mathew Zimmerer as the Brothers Antipholus. Mr. Messersmith is the stronger of the higher-born twins, while Mr. Zimmerer plays more stereotypically his role of the darker twin. Christina Harris gives a good performance as the wife Antipholus of Ephesus, Adriana, with solid diction and an actual interest in her character.
The ensemble is a mix of two extremes. On one end is Julie Whelihan who, while given the unenviable task of being the second act plot-unknotter (countering Mr. Martin at the start of the show), has excellent diction, and is very much in character as the Lady Abbess. The opposite extreme is Eric C. Reda in his roles of Waiter and Sorcerer, who milks every moment of his stage time by mugging and stealing focus in a style that is fast becoming his security blanket. The remainder of the ensemble falls between these two examples.
The design element is a plus for the production. Geoffrey Eroe's set is a lively, colorful Old Mexico town square, gaily lit by Michael J. Eddy. While Gail Wolfden Steib's costumes evoke the 40s feel of the show for the men, from Christopher M. Williams' gaudy Latin American dictator outfit for Duke Solinus to the spiffy Antipholus outfits, her choices for the women's skirts tend to look like picnic tablecloths, not peasant skirts.
Textually, there is one saving grace for the exhausted actors who are required to keep up a farcical pace and the weary audience that endures it: this is Shakespeare's shortest play. Expect to leave before 10. If you favor non-stop physical comedy, this is the season's pick. If, however, you think Shakespeare should be more than Larry, Moe, and Curly, consider yourself warned.
Production Details:
The Comedy of Errors by William
Shakespeare
Phoenix Theatre, Phoenix
(602) 254-2151
March 23rd - April 8th, 2001