'Merry Wives': Just as funny, 400 years later

It may not be one of the bard's masterpieces, but in the hands of Seattle Shakespeare Co. it produces plenty of laughs, especially considering it was written in less than three weeks.

'Merry Wives': Just as funny, 400 years later
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Ashli Blow

It may not be one of the bard's masterpieces, but in the hands of Seattle Shakespeare Co. it produces plenty of laughs, especially considering it was written in less than three weeks.

Shakespeare’s Merry Wives  of Windsor isn’t one of the bard’s most tightly written plays — it amounts to little more than extended horseplay — and could even  be considered a little mean-spirited in its depiction of middle-class  mores, Welsh incomprehensibility and French pomposity. But in the able  hands of Seattle Shakespeare Company and director Terry Edward Moore,  the almost nonstop sight gags, malapropisms and puns keep both the cast  and the audience on their toes for more than three frolicking hours.

The physical and verbal jokes fly at such lightning speed, this is one  case where reading the play in advance, or at least being familiar with  the plot, can be a great help.

The story line sounds simpler than  it plays on stage. Sir John Falstaff, anachronistically plopped into  the Elizabethan age from the medieval era of the Henry IV plays,  has fallen on hard times. In an effort to refill his personal coffers,  he simultaneously woos two Windsor wives — the Mistresses Page and Ford — hoping to gain access to their husband’s finances. The women have  no patience with the fat and “greasy” Falstaff but make great merriment  at his expense, luring him into compromising situations and a Walpurgisnacht-like  frenzy where Falstaff is humiliated before the entire community.

There  are the usual subplots that you expect from any Shakespearean play and  a supporting cast of ridiculous characters like a French doctor, a Welsh  parson and a tongue-tied young suitor. There’s even a cameo appearance  by a silent Queen Elizabeth (the first, of course) that Moore has inserted  into the climactic scene. But these are mere diversions from the main  event.

By one account, Shakespeare wrote Merry Wives in two and a half weeks, although it’s hard to believe  even he could have managed so much verbal dexterity in such a short  time. Regardless of how long it took to write, Merry Wives provides  not just a delightful evening of theater but also, as the only Shakespearean  play placed exclusively in the time that the playwright lived, a picture  window into that Elizabethan world. The characters are largely suburbanites  living in a society that found the idea of a wife cheating on her husband  hilarious, and the play overflows with references to cuckoos, cuckolds  and horns or horned animals. The sight of Falstaff, for instance, sporting  deer’s antlers would probably have brought the house down in Shakespeare’s  time and even the words “buck basket,” wherein Falstaff hides at  one point, would most likely have provoked hoots.

It’s a testament to Shakespeare’s  verbal skill — and Moore’s gift for physical comedy — that a contemporary audience can respond so easily to the silly humor  of Merry Wives. When the suitor confuses the words “resolute”  with “dissolute” in declaring his love for Mistress Page’s daughter,  it’s as funny today as it was 400 years ago. When the French doctor  pronounces “third” as “turd,” he’s greeted with the same groans  today as he was no doubt in Shakespeare’s time.

It should come as no surprise to anyone  who has seen a Seattle Shakespeare Company performance that the troupe  consistently finds actors who can make sense of Shakespeare’s language  and bring real humanity to his characters. The company wisely allows  the actors to speak largely in American accents, not English, which  avoids the straining that so often accompanies the efforts of those  on this side of the pond.

There are a few missteps in casting — David Dorrian as the Welsh parson and Gavin Cummins as the  French doctor overact, with incomprehensible accents — but overall  the actors are well-suited to their roles. John Patrick Lowrie is an  appropriately blustery Falstaff who, with his deep and resonant voice,  suggests the operatic Falstaff. And Therese Diekhans is deliciously saucy  as the matchmaking Mistress Quickly. Lowrie and Diekhans have such chemistry  in their scenes together you wonder why Falstaff doesn’t figure out  a financing scheme that allows him to run away with her. Christopher  Hopkins-Ward’s Slender (yes, he is) is so gawky as he woos the Page  daughter, you want to spirit him away to a planet populated entirely  by men.

But the real standout is Leslie Law as Mistress Page.  Though her face looks barely older than that of the young woman who  plays her daughter, Law’s demeanor, facial expressions and body language  are those of a confident, jocular middle-aged woman, and she steals every  scene she’s in. Even if there were no other pleasures in this Merry  Wives of Windsor — and there are plenty — Law alone is worth  the price of admission.

The staging is up to the Company’s  usual high standards and makes excellent use of the tiny Seattle Center  theater, as do the minimal sets and props. Merry Wives may not  rank as a Shakespearean masterpiece, but it has its share of pleasures  and on opening night everyone — cast and audience — appeared to  have a rollicking good time.

If you go: The Merry Wives  of Windsor, Seattle Shakespeare Company, through May 15 at Seattle Center House  Theatre, 305 Harrison St. Tickets cost $20-$40 and are available at the box  office, by phone (206-733-8222) or online.

Ashli Blow

By Ashli Blow

Ashli Blow is a Seattle-based freelance writer who talks with people — in places from urban watersheds to remote wildernesses — about the environment around them. She’s been working in journal