The Comedy of Errors (More or Less)

If only someone could bottle the energy generated by the cast of The Comedy of Errors (More or Less), I would order a jeroboam, take a snifter once a week and keep myself buoyant until next Christmas.

From when the first joke is detonated, through the slapstick, gurning, capering and singing to the standing ovation at the end, we experienced a memorable evening of theatre. There was even space for some lines by William Shakespeare.

The errors are, of course, made because of mistaken identities. Twins, separated at birth, suddenly come into proximity to the confusion of everyone around them. The theme of identity is introduced by the excellent Claire Eden, their mother, who is looking to be reunited with her long-lost boys. She also sets the hare of Yorkshire /Lancashire rivalry running, although that particular thread only reappears occasionally.

As the plot unravels, each actor undertakes a bewildering range of characters. How actors could exit, only to reappear seconds later in a different costume and manifesting a different character is a mystery to me.

Stephen Joseph favourite Andy Cryer was not just funny verbally, running through varying accents, he was also the star when it came to physical comedy. Theatre in the Round leaves no room to hide. It must sometimes feel to an actor as though they are sitting in an audience member’s lap and, therefore, the pressure to remain in character is relentless. Sitting in the second row of seats, I watched him specifically and there was never a moment when concentration lapsed.

The historical context for Comedy of Errors (More of Less), is the Nineteen Eighties so all the musical numbers are from that era. A song sheet promised us the likes of Cher and Madonna. The Audience was invited to join in as the cast sang the songs. When I found the song sheet on the back of my seat, I wondered if we were to see a jukebox musical.

Part of the plot involves the build-up to a talent show and, when it happens, three of the female members appear as cheerleaders, in yet another costume change, and perform Toni Basil’s Oh Mickey. The song sheet provided us with the lyrics. I suspect those of you old enough to remember the original can visualise the comic potential of this bouncy, but inane, pop song.

Someone must also have been familiar with Scarborough in the Eighties since the names of popular restaurants, long since defunct, appear in the script. It is like seeing yourself on TV: there is an irrational response just to hearing the name of your home town in the context of a play.

Director Paul Robinson made a first-rate job of keeping the mayhem on stage coherent. Given the nature of farce, the cast were freed to over act. Funny as this can be, it also has to be held in check since it can easily become embarrassing. Robinson’s judgement is clearly unerring in striking exactly the right note somewhere between self-indulgence and professional restraint.

This show is like one of those meals where you throw left-overs into a pan and the result is the tastiest repast you’ve had in months. Great fun and totally captivating.