A theatre company in New Jersey is currently performing Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors. Although not among my favorites, it holds a significant place in Shakespeare’s oeuvre and in dramatic literature as a whole. It is one of Shakespeare’s earliest efforts as well as one of his shortest, and it was both highly influential upon later works and highly influenced by those that preceded it.

For inspiration, Shakespeare went back to the comedies of Ancient Rome (one of many reasons why people believe he was not educated enough to be able to write what he did). Shakespeare used the plots of not one but two comedies by Plautus to create The Comedy of Errors, the most significant inspiration coming from The Menaechmi (which also features a mistaken identity plot involving twins).

This particular production earned high marks for its casting, particularly the actors playing the two sets of twins with the same name (Antipholus and Dromio). One of the unique challenges of the play is to make non-twin actors believable as identical twins. Not only do the actors have to resemble each other physically, they must also mirror each other’s vocal patterns and physical mannerisms. As is often the case, this production features a significant amount of slapstick comedy, a nod to the play’s raucous origins. Therein is the challenge of The Comedy of Errors. It is a very simple story that demands an extremely high level of technical ability from its actors

Despite its seemingly complex plot, The Comedy of Errors (one of Shakespeare’s earliest plays) is actually quite simple: two sets of twins get separated, only to re-encounter each other as adults. Complicating matters is the fact that each twin has the same name as his doppelganger. Mistaken identities ensue, with actions repeatedly attributed to the wrong set of twins. It is a conceit that has the potential to wear thin if the production does not feature lightning-fast pacing. Otherwise, the play runs the risk of coming off as a one-joke comedy (despite Shakespeare’s sharp writing).

This may explain why a new production of The Comedy of Errors has decided to add some new ideas to the mix. In this version, the play is given a unique framework structure to deepen the level of complications. Set during World War II in a film studio, the framework story finds a group of actors in the process of filming The Comedy of Errors during the London air raids. As a result, each actor in the production plays two roles: their part in The Comedy of Errors, and their actor character in the World War II framework.

This approach allows the production to comment on the play itself. In addition, the time period allows for an obvious nod to the screwball comedy genre, a highly tuned, fast-paced farcical form that came of age in the 1930s and 1940s. The multiple layers of this version will ensure that the audience doesn’t have time to question the plot while they are enjoying the silly fun.

Poor, unfortunate Richard III. The guy really cannot catch a break these days. On the heels of my recent blog about an R3 who was transformed into a female chav, a Canadian production has taken the play and the character to even further extremes. For this particular troupe, Richard III is a comedy, and not a particularly subtle one at that. Past Richards have been hunchbacks or fascists, but in this particular incarnation he is a big lump. Literally. The actor is encased in a costume that makes him look like he has no limbs whatsoever. As a result, he is wheeled about the stage by some kind of faux-Latino manservant prone to spandex clothing (is anyone besides me picturing Hank Azaria in The Birdcage?).

The particular review that brought this production to my attention classified it as grotesque, noting that it seemed to be employing a broad, comic style reminiscent of commedia dell’arte. Less I get a reputation as a crank, I am going to resist the urge to razz this production simply based on its description (though it is EXTREMELY tempting). Obviously, my first pick for this kind of approach wouldn’t be a malevolent tragedy, however this concept has tremendous potential for some of the Bard’s lesser comedies. The Comedy of Errors, one of Will’s earliest and slightest plays, might get a tremendous boost from a robust, even slapsticky interpretation. Whether its application to Richard III is successful or not, it offers a fresh approach to Shakespeare.

Given how Shakespeare has been interpreted, reinterpreted (and, in some cases, ruined), it is surprising hip-hop takes on Shakespeare do not recur more frequently. In St. Louis, the city that launched hip-hop phenom Nelly (and his crew the St. Lunatics), a hip-hop reimagining of Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors is being staged. Dubbed The Bomb-itty of Errors, the play seeks to maintain the fast-paced humor of one of The Bard’s earliest comedies while filtering it through a hip-hop aesthetic.

Now, lest you think that I write this blog merely to bemoan alternative takes on Shakespeare, let me be clear: I like when Shakespeare (or Shakespeare-based) productions mix it up. For me, a concept is justifiable simply if it works. Shakespeare done underwater in the nude spoken in Pig-Latin does not seem to have much of a point other than trying to be cute. Merging Shakespeare and hip-hop seems like a genuinely inspired collaboration. First and foremost, hip-hop is a genre that is all about rhythm and flow, making it an ideal contemporary milieu to update The Bard’s works. Secondly, underneath some of the best hip-hop (and, no, Fiddy, this does NOT include you), is a sharp sense of humor. Rappers who simply spit about money, bling, and ho’s are even more played out than the phrase “played out.” Smart hip-hop entertainers like Kanye West comment on these conventions with wit and humor. In that vein, a Shakespearean comedy rewritten in hip-hop slang doesn’t seem like such a big stretch after all.

The Comedy of Errors occupies a unique position in Shakespeare’s oeuvre…perhaps. Some believe it to be The Bard’s first play (a position for which it usually dukes it out with The Two Gentlemen of Verona). Based on its structure, it is certainly possible. Borrowed heavily from Roman comedies (and The Menaechmi in particular), The Comedy of Errors tells the story of two sets of twins, separated at birth, who wind up in the same city as adults, resulting in multiple mistaken identities. A new production of the play emphasizes slapstick, farcical humor. It also boasts the novelty of having the two sets of twin characters played by just two actors instead of the usual four (the creators do not mention how this is accomplished, but my money is on mirrors a la the finale of A Chorus Line).

The tendency to lean on sight gags reinforces that, as an early play of Shakespeare’s, it is not as fully developed as some of his later, more sophisticated comedies. Despite its seemingly complex plot structure, the setup for the humor in the play is relatively simple. Antipholus and his manservant Dromio do something, often something contrary, that is later ascribed to the other Antipholus and Dromio (they have the same names, conveniently). The result is a lot of no-I-didn’t-yes-you-did humor that feels repetitive after awhile. This production has trimmed the play down to eighty minutes with good reason. It may be Shakespeare’s first play, but at its core, it is really only a comedy of one error.

As a society, we never seem to tire of ranking things. Whether it is the American Film Institute’s list of the one hundred greatest movies or the weekly top video countdown, the need to name something “The Best” is universal. So it is not surprising that someone created a list of the greatest wits of all time. Shakespeare naturally made the cut, as did Oscar Wilde. The real curio, however, is Oasis musician Liam Gallagher. Really? Gallagher aside, the pairing of Shakespeare and Wilde struck me. Do these two writers share anything other than wit?

Wilde’s life and career were notoriously cut short by the famous trial over “the love that dare not speak its name.” Still, in his brief life, Wilde produced some of the sharpest comedies ever written about high society. His most famous of these is the mistaken-identity charmer The Importance of Being Earnest. Yet, how does this work line up against that of Shakespeare? Mistaken identity and double identity (which figure so prominently in Earnest) certainly show up in Shakespeare’s comedies. Twelfth Night and As You Like It feature cross-dressing heroines; The Comedy of Errors boasts not one but two sets of mixed-up twins; and A Midsummer Night’s Dream features a quartet of lovers, just like Earnest. Overall, however, the two writers create more of a contrast than a comparison. Both were witty and clever, but the snidely dry Wilde and the play-to-the-rafters Shakespeare made people laugh for very different reasons.

Shakespeare’s gone country. Nashville staple Cowboy Jack Clement’s new DVD is dubbed Shakespeare was a George Jones Fan. While this title could provoke numerous follow-up questions (”What, no Porter Wagoner?”), presumably it seeks to link the poetry of Shakespeare with that of country music. Truthfully, I’m just glad it’s not called Shakespeare was a Billy Ray Cyrus Fan.

An even more relevant example of the Shakespeare-Country connection is the new musical Lone Star Love, which is loosely based on The Merry Wives of Windsor. Currently finishing up its out-of-town tryouts (and revisions), the show is looking to bow on Broadway in November. While adapting Shakespeare to musical theatre is nothing new (see West Side Story and The Boys from Syracuse as examples), the milieu of Lone Star Love is decidedly different. It’s set in the post-Civil War South and its Falstaff is none other than Cousin Eddie himself, Randy Quaid. We’ll have to wait a few months to find out if Shakespearean hootenanny is a smash or flop. If it’s the former, brace yourselves for The Winter’s Yarn and Y’Alls Well That Ends Well.