Shakespeare's Labour Not Lost on Riverside

by James Trainor

Love's Labour's Lost is a tough play. Sitting down with the text, one can easily become lost in the footnotes, attempting to parse corrupted Latin and borrowed French and skimming through long diversion into European history. Also disconcerting is the play's style, which hops swiftly from traditional English comedy to Commedia dell'arte and back for eight scenes and suddenly somersaults into a third, highly unexpected thing in the last 200 lines.

One wonders what Shakespeare is up to. He treats us to a delightful romp, then pulls the rug under us; a tactic not unheard of, but Shakespeare seems to wait until we're flying on a magic carpet to perform his coup de théâtre. Fortunately, Riverside's company does a spectacular job of embracing the dizzying heights of the ride as well as plumbing the troubling depths of the fall.

The plot is actually quite simple and very amusing. The King of Navarre (played here with comic dignity by Zachary Andrews) has entered into a legal contract with his friends to endure three years of rigorous study without the distractions of women. Berowne (Michael Daniel Anderson) is quick to point out that these restrictions are not only too harsh, but are, in fact, impossible to keep: the Princess of France and her coterie of beautiful ladies has just arrived to do business with the King. Puffed with pride, they sign anyway, and in a delightfully awkward scene the King must explain to the Princess that, due to his oath, he cannot welcome them inside and they must spend their visit in a field a mile away. His friends, meanwhile, are smitten with the French women and immediately begin to write gushing sonnets behind each other's backs.

The main plot is interspersed with pastoral scenes involving characters lifted from the Italian Commedia dell'arte. Armado, the braggart (Tim Budd in a hilarious triumph), has been smitten with the country girl Jaquenetta (Jessica Flood), and must use his rival Costard (Patrick DuLaney) as a go-between. The characters here are larger than life, crass, unpolished, and extremely funny. DuLaney is at his comic best as Costard, finding ample opportunities to wink at the audience in a play loaded with double-entendres. David Tull creates a wonderfully bumbling cop in Constable Dull, and Jody Hovland a particularly preposterous pedant as the learned Holofernes. Dennis Florine is the quick-witted Moth, and he delivers his comic asides with excellent precision and timing.

The whole thing is a laugh riot. It's fun to watch the men make fools of themselves (with a little help from the women) in the main plot, and the Commedia scenes, with their bawdy humor and over-the-top staging, remind us why these characters have such a central place in theatrical history. The resolution, however, is an unexpected and disorienting sudden shift in tone.

Instead of dovetailing together as in most Shakespeare plays, the two worlds practically collide. During the Pageant of the Nine Worthies, Holofernes presents to the court Judas Maccabeus - not to be confused with Judas Iscariot. The lords delight in just this confusion, however, and mercilessly mock the poor scholar. Deflated, he pleads for dignity, "This is not generous, not gentle, not humble." The scene, played with incredible skill by Jody Hovland, casts a pall on the festivities. The pageant continues, however, until it is interrupted by Costard, who challenges Armano over Jaquenetta (now pregnant by Armano). This too is interrupted by a messenger bearing dark tidings: the King of France has just died, and the Princess is now the Queen. The French women, ever more coolly rational than the impulsive men, declare they will not hear any suits of love for a period of one year and prepare to depart.

If this sounds like a mystifying and illogical series of events, that's because it's intended to be. The moment is so awkward, in fact, that the characters feel the need to comment on it.

"Our wooing doth not end like an old play," complains Berowne. "Jack hath not Jill. These ladies' courtesy might well have made our sport a comedy." Berowne is appealing to the spirit of cooperation, suggesting the women should enter into marriage simply to appease the expectations of dramatic structure. It sounds ridiculous because it is. Shakespeare is insisting we take a closer look at this whole "romantic comedy" business.

Think about it. Don't you ever want to grab Romeo by the shoulders and just shake him? "Think for a second, lover boy! You just met this woman." The trappings of stage romance, like Berowne's sonnets, are quite ridiculous. Of course, the idea of "love at first sight" does not go unexamined in Romeo & Juliet; in fact, it's laid quite bare in Friar Lawrence's admonitions and in Juliet's own reservations. Juliet, however, gives in to her youthful passion, and pays the price. In Love's Labour's Lost we see the same notions rebuked by more mature women.

The smart scenes with the French women are a great contrast to the silly romps of the lovesick men, though Ron Clark is a bit too bombastic as the subtle and smarmy Boyet. The women, very civilized and composed in early twentieth century blue summer-dresses, are a delight. Kalen Harriman is charming as the willful Princess of France, though she is frequently upstaged by Cristina Panfilio as the sassy Rosaline. Panfilio is bright, quick, and plays the courting game with a playfulness that somehow does not tarnish the serious tone beneath it. When she chides Berowne, she does so with the respect of a good teacher who trusts her pupil, and it seems by the end he takes the lesson to heart. She finally decides she will marry him in a year, like the others, but he must spend that year among the terminally ill and see if he still finds himself so funny in front of so tough a crowd.

Whether he passes this test we don't find out. We're left with hope, however, and whatever the ultimate resolution, the play is an interesting reflection on our notions of love and courtship. It reminds us that the vows we make in the heat of summer had better be able to withstand the frigid winter.

Love's Labour's Lost is a great counterpoint to Romeo & Juliet, as the plays deal with similar themes in quite different ways. Riverside's company, under the direction of the Theodore Swetz, does a marvelous job with the bombastic comedy and isn't afraid to address the "problem play" parts of the piece. The result is a night of theatre that is both entertaining and thought-provoking.

Love's Labour's Lost will be presented on the Festival stage in Lower City Park until July 11th, in repertory with Romeo & Juliet. Tickets are $15-$37 and can be reserved by phone at 319.338.7672. See Riverside's website for more information.