Resident Ensemble Players presents The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) [Revised] [Again]

This show is as nutty as its extenuated title. Director Steve Tague (REP’s new producing artistic director) has crafted a fun evening that starts even before the curtain goes up … or goes sideways: the show’s printed program is rife with cleverly concocted, totally fictitious company bios. Tague directs fearlessly, positioning the show squarely at the intersection of sketch comedy and traditional farce. The Complete Works (et al.) promises and delivers all 37 Shakespeare plays in 97 minutes, giving the audience barely time to breathe between guffaws. (Here's a short video preview.)

Abridge, revise, repeat

The show first appeared at the 1987 Edinburgh (Scotland) Fringe, performed by Adam Long, Daniel Singer, and Jess Winfield (dubbing themselves the Reduced Shakespeare Company). It moved to London’s West End, where it ran for nine years, and since then, it's been mounted by everyone from professional Shakespeare companies to community theaters. The original "Abridged” version was followed by a 2010 “Revised” script, and this latest iteration is labeled “Revised Again.”

Cross-dressing meets biblical importance

A trio of equally fearless actors—Mic Matarrese, Lenny Banovez, and Joe Castillo-Midyett—create and sustain the merry mayhem. Matarrese opens the show with a curtain speech that introduces Banovez as a distinguished “pre-eminent” (as opposed to preeminent) Shakespearean scholar. The ersatz expert notes that Shakespeare’s collected plays are just as important as the Bible “but with way more cross-dressing.” They then bring Castillo-Midyett onstage (he’s been posing as an innocent audience member), and the three then pepper the night with wackiness and inspired wordplay.

The Complete Works is filled with current references, bawdy jokes, endless sight gags, audience involvement, and even Delaware insider stuff. It’s almost impossible to keep up with all the clever wordplay as it flies by. The trio consistently massages and massacres the Bard’s texts: “A rose by any other name would smell” (Romeo and Juliet). They condense the similar-sounding characters of Shakespeare’s comedies into one play to the theme of The Love Boat, present Macbeth in a comic Scottish brogue using golf clubs for swords, and play the Bard’s gruesome Titus Andronicus as a blood-spattered cooking show. All 154 sonnets are ostensibly written on one 4x6 card, which Matarrese tries to get the audience to read, and Shakespeare’s little-known (and contested) play The Two Noble Kinsmen becomes “The T-Mobile Kinsmen.”

The Cheese Danish

Before intermission, the actors proudly check their list and congratulate themselves on including every play, only to discover that—oh, dear!—they’ve missed Hamlet, “the great Dane,” and “the Cheese Danish.” “How will we do it justice?” they ask. The answer: “We don’t have to do it justice. We just have to do it!” So, the entire second act is a pastiche of that tragedy, presented, represented, and re-presented four times, each iteration faster than the one before.

In truth, the show’s second act is somewhat overwritten, but the director and his actors hold it steady (or hilariously unsteady). And in an evening filled with rambunctious hijinks, Tague does give us something special. Castillo-Midyett comes center stage, casts all flummery aside, drops to one knee, and sends a dramatic plumb line straight into the heart of Hamlet’s meditation on “what a piece of work is a man,” creating a gorgeous and memorable moment.

Nowhere to hide

Then it’s back into farcical gear. An over-the-top play like this showcases the skill, confidence, and sheer bravado of these actors. Funny as it is, in actuality, The Complete Works is a very risky play. It may seem antic and improvisatory, but that façade hides an enormous amount of staging and craft, and there’s no place where anyone can hide. If it fails (and there are so many places where it could), if there is no laughter, or if the energy flags, the audience experience quickly deflates. But there’s no burst balloon here; this production is bouncy and lighter than air.

William Browning’s tongue-in-cheek designs pay homage to the world of painted backdrops, faux drapery, and music-hall lighting. Jo Fulmer’s witty costumes have each actor in bright-colored tights and pantaloons that never quite disappear under all the madcap clothing changes. Lee E. Ernst (often seen acting on the REP stage) is the fight choreographer, creating the company’s so-bad-it’s-good swordplay and myriad boffo pratfalls.

A bold-faced lie

Tague titles his printed director’s notes "A Brief History of the Theatre," an overview every bit as compressed as the show. He says, “The play you are seeing has no purpose and no value whatsoever!” But how can you not love a show that makes you laugh for two hours? And he closes by saying, “I hope you know what the heck you’re doing here, ’cause we don’t,” which is a bold-faced lie. They absolutely do know what the heck they’re doing there. And they’re doing it exceptionally and hilariously well.