The Comedy of Errors, Shakespeare Theatre Company

The Comedy of Errors begins with a strange sequence in which we are introduced to Aegeon, a merchant from Syracuse who is almost ostentatiously down on his luck and set to be executed by the Duke of Ephesus. The execution, of course, is set for the very end of Act V and yet here we are in the opening scene of Act I, so Aegeon is here for some exposition to catch us all up to speed and lay the groundwork for the plot to come. At one point, he explains to the Duke of his wife:

There had she not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons;
And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.

Twins! Could have just said "she gave birth to our two twin sons," but that's iambic pentameter for you. But note the detail we are given: that the only way to distinguish the two babies was through their names. One quick look at the program will tell a different story, because the names of the two boys (you know, the ONLY WAY the parents had to distinguish them) are actually the same name. That's right, both sons were named Antipholus, and then when they chanced to adopt another set of twin boys, they went and did the same thing, and named both of those twins Dromio. This is all very normal.

But that's the world of The Comedy of Errors! Absurdity begins in the backstory as a necessity, otherwise the one conceit of the show: that two sets of actors can be continually mistaken for each other by even their own wives, simply can't hold up. In this production, directed by STC's Artistic Director, Simon Godwin, a great deal of care has been expended to ensure that this kind of world can hang together cohesively. The bright colors of Ceci Calf's set, matched by Alejo Vietti's costumes, do some of the work, but the heaviest lifting is done by the inclusion of music throughout the performance, performed by the onstage cast. The non-diagetic nature of the music lifts us out of any last grabs at realism and invites the audience to just embrace the looseness of this version of Ephesus.

The cast of Comedy of Errors. Photo by Teresa Castracane Photography.

It's not all high nonsense and physical comedy, however well staged by Godwin and performed by the cast. There are some genuinely lovely moments by Christian Thompson's Antipholus of Syracuse as he wonders through this strange new flock of people who all know and respect him, as well as Shayvawn Webster and Cloteal L. Horne's relationship as sisters Adriana and Luciana. When we are gifted the final scene between Alex Brightman and David Flynn as the two Dromios, it's gorgeous physical comedy work alongside real emotion and connection. That said, Ro Boddie's silent physical work reacting as an eavesdropper in an early scene in the cafe is so delightful that it absolutely deserves its own shoutout (especially when the last time I saw him on stage was when he was stunningly good in Topdog/Underdog at Roundhouse Theatre, working in a different mode).

Godwin has also clearly given thought to some of the thornier undercurrents of the play: the unending violence against Dromio of Ephesus from his master/brother Antipholus of Ephesus (Ralph Adriel Johnson), and the fraught comic tirade against Nell which boils down to two minutes of "it's funny because she's fat, you see." When Flynn's Dromio finally has a moment to speak out about his treatment, we are given the dramatic lighting that cues an audience to say, "hark, something important is being said here, I must tune in." Of course, nine times out of ten when directors use this crutch, it's just a sign that you don't trust the audience or your actor enough to produce that effect on their own, which Flynn at least is certainly capable of doing. I won't spoil the Nell sequence here, except to say that it's probably the best I've seen that short interlude done, and even leaves the undertone of "why is it ok to make jokes about someone's body like that at all?", which is a nice reprieve from how I've seen it staged previously.

The biggest danger of Comedy of Errors is that it's built on a single comic misunderstanding that plays out in endless iterations and if you aren't careful, it can just drag the joke on and on far past any comedy or interest can sustain. Thankfully, this isn't that kind of production. Godwin finds the moments to vary the tone, introduce other comic modes, and send the audience home with a final song and dance number in keeping with the dance that ended Shakespeare's own performances. Yes, there might be an error or two, but by god, there's a lot of comedy here to enjoy.