Reviews

The Comedy of Errors (Wherstead)

The English summer and theatre performances out-of-doors make something marvellous when the ingredients are right. But perhaps staging “The Comedy of Errors” at the Theatre in the Forest is too much of a challenge for the weather gods to ignore?

The cast of Red Rose Chain's "Comedy of Errors".
The cast of Red Rose Chain's "Comedy of Errors".

Shakespeare plundered the Roman comedies of Plautus for this farce about two sets of twins each of whom spends most of the action being mistaken for his identikit brother. Antipholus and his slave Dromio have set out from Syracuse on a mission and find themselves in Ephesus.

One of their troubles is that the two cities are deadly enemies, as Antipholus' father Aegeon has already discovered to his cost. What's more, while Antipholus S is foot-loose and definitely fancy-free, Antipholus E is married to Adriana (Anna Doolan), a lady with a mind of her own – and the voice to go with it. He also has a sister-in-law Luciana.

Joanna Carrick's production has a cast of just six actors; the resultant doubling-up of roles shows off an array of talents, though it's a pity that everyone seems to shout all the time. Jimmy Grimes keeps us (more or less) clear on who's who and from where with the Ephesians in red and the Syracusans in blue.

There are songs, quite catchy ones, as well as knockabout mayhem. Lucy Telleck switches from the epitome of reasoned sense as Luciana to the crabby goldsmith Angelo. Both Dromio E (Tristan Pate) and Dromio S (Laurence Pears) come in for enough cudgelling to have the audience wince in sympathy. Pate also has a hilarious turn as the Courtezan.

We had just launched into Act Five and Kirsty Thorpe's Abbess had just revealed herself in a wondrous Afro wig, otherwise clad in shimmering skin-tight gold Lycra when those pesky weather gods decided to join the action. A theatre in a woodland clearing is a lovely place to be, but not when the thunder roars, the lightning flashes and the rain descends in torrents.

To employ a seasonal cliché – rain stopped play. Literally.