So here’s the situation: a stranger comes to town and finds himself mysteriously drawn into somebody else’s life-in-progress. Meanwhile, a guy who’s dug in and married money discovers himself locked out of the house and his calls bounced. Kafka or farce? Peter Hinton’s Comedy of Errors pursues both options.
The place is Montreal, circa now, an urban street corner in Stephen Harper’s Canada. Helmeted police in bullet-proof vests stand on guard and, in case the smell of order puts you off, there’s a ceremonial Mountie for aesthetic relief. The amazing set (by Eo Sharp) is a vast shower of platinum squares that open revealing an elevator, a trendy bar, a bed. Music by Rufus Wainwright, scenario and dialogue by Shakespeare, this high-concept, high octane production features a splay of top Montreal talents. It’s imaginative and exhilarating, even if on opening night, not yet up to its own considerable ambitions.
On the page, the play is a dare: how silly can a story-line be and still be more than entertaining? Sometime in the past, identical twins, their parents and twin servants were separated during a shipwreck (one set on each shore). The mother took refuge in an abbey, dad went into trade. Now by chance, they are all thrown together just as the old man is about to be executed over unpaid debts. Dire circumstances bookend great mayhem, driven by the wonderfully manic twin servants, played by Debra Kirshenbaum and Danielle Desormeaux.
As the parents, Claire Coulter and Albert Millaire demonstrate what is meant by the old stage adage, there are no small parts. When Coulter in nun’s garb came out at the end to calm everybody down, I felt guilty for having had such a good time. When Millaire stepped forward to plead for his life, the pause before his sonorous appeal held the crowd breathless. If only a few more moments of such conviction could be found throughout.
Often modern dress Shakespeare seems like boiled sirloin: no matter how remarkable the result, there’s always a moment when you wonder why. Director Peter Hinton has answered the question by carefully defining the society of the play as stretched out tight to the point of snapping between licence and order – in other words, a lot like now.
Ephesus/Montreal is crawling with cops, but it is also revved up on recreational sex and driven to frenzy by omnipresent technology. Stephen Lawson’s camp turn as a cross-dressing courtesan stands in for a whole world of bling-happy denizens. The pace of life and an anything-is-possible mood help make multiple misunderstandings believable, and often very funny. Hearing Shakespeare in this context is of course a jolt, but eventually the language barrier pretty well disappears, and many lines sound oddly modern.
As an ensemble, the actors embrace their challenge with gusto and success. Andreas Apergis as the married brother comes closest to touching the play’s serious core. Suddenly shut out by his wife and betrayed by a faithful servant, his rage is neon green and hurting. Apergis plays on a wider keyboard than anyone else in the show. An earthy man-about-town caught up in a nightmare, he’s hilarious, heartbreaking, real.
By contrast, Marcel Jeannin as the stranger/brother embraces misunderstanding with insouciance. Mistaken by Adriana as her husband, he happily goes home to dinner; left alone with her lovely sister Luciana, he doesn’t hold back. As the sisters Adrianne and Luciana, Danette MacKay and Leni Parker are the cream on this stylish production, downtown babes with their own Holt Renfrew brand of street smarts.
The only problem is, they seem to be wearing each other’s clothes. Switched at birth? MacKay plays the wronged wife as a petulant vamp when in fact her role is the more nuanced and feeling of the two. The single sister is full of preachy advice about marriage, cynical and at least potentially loose, but Parker’s natural authority turns her into a formidable big sister. Thus confused, they miss their big moment, when Luciana must confess the wayward husband has hit on her – and she liked it.
Still, such picky reflections are only possible with work of a very high calibre. (As I chatted briefly with great francophone actor Albert Millaire after the performance, he mentioned this is only his second Shakespearean role in English, the first being Malvolio in Stratford Festival’s 1991 Twelfth Night. The electric jolt of those last two words produced a painful flashback: same play/same stage, directed by Centaur’s previous artistic director – mangled southern accents, horrific. How times have changed.)
A Centaur/NAC co-production set to move on to our nation’s capital after Montreal, this Comedy of Errors is an intelligent, enjoyable assault on a play that gives as good as it gets. If the thread of danger tightens up a notch, it will be excellent. Not to be missed.
The Comedy of Errors continues at Centaur Theatre until March 28. Box office: 514-288-3161. The acclaimed premier of Michel & ti-Jean has been extended to March 13.
