Love's Labour's Lost

We already covered my 100th show of the year, the deeply disappointing and pretty ridiculous Thomas Bradshaw play Burning. Now it's time for the 100th post! Which means...well, it's another disappointment. Don't worry: I know the next three posts are going to be about stuff I liked!

I love that the Public Theater has a "Lab" program where they workshop shows. I love that I got to see Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson there for $15 a few years back. And I love that they're tackling some of Shakespeare's less produced plays as part of the series because, ever the completist, I set the relatively stupid goal of seeing every Shakespeare play performed at least once. This program let me knock Timon of Athens off my list. Next month, it will take down Titus Andronicus (because the movie doesn't count). And this month, it allowed me to cross of Love's Labour's Lost.

I'm happy to report that the problems I had with the show have nothing to do with Shakespeare himself. Sure, the plot about four men taking a vow of chastity in order to further their academic pursuits only to be shortly thereafter visited by four beautiful women is as ridiculous by today's standard as most of his work, but that's just the nature of the beast. Someone had to establish the cliches.

The problems aren't even with the cast (well...mostly). Instead, I lay blame at the director's feet for turning out a show that felt somehow frantically dull. First of all, the script must have been hacked apart to turn this into a two hour show with no intermission. I don't know the show, but you can feel that pieces are missing. And say what you will about Shakespeare, the man was thorough. I never had the sense that his plays were incomplete, if you see where I'm going with this.

But let's move on to something more troubling: "Hangin' Tough." Yeah--the New Kids on the Block song. Which the four leading ladies ever so briefly do a little dance to. Well before they do the Beyonce "Single Ladies" dance. You want to give me a new interpretation of something that interpolates contemporary(-ish) pop culture? Fine. Do it. You want to jar me out of the moment forcefully? Go for it. But if you do? You better make a point. And I sure hope it's significant.

Little moments of ridiculousness are scattered through the show as though to highlight its outlandishness. Letters are monstrously large. Costumes are black and white except for the occasional burst of silly bold color. But here's the thing: the show is already silly. So why not just play it straight? The worst offender (and I'm not fully prepared to blame the actor in lieu of the director) is the performance of Samira Wiley as the page Moth who manages to add excess to excess and seems not a clown as much as a buffoon.

Other performers far significantly better. Stephanie diMaggio is delightful as the lusty wench Jacquenetta. And Francis Jue's curate might not have the biggest part, but he left the most significant impression.

In the final moments of the show, the cast joins together for a joyful musical number that jars us out of the ennui that set in almost imperceptibly over the two hour running time. But I have to say, I'd rather be let down by the last two minutes of a great show than lifted up by the finale of something so deeply mediocre. Ah well. Good reviews a'comin', I promise!