Live From Syracuse

IT'S ALWAYS delight to see an excellent company of actors at work, but sometimes it's even more so to see them at play. In The Boys From Syracuse, the entire ART seems to be on a holiday, with nary an over-the-shoulder glance at the stern repertory countenances of Chekhov and Ibsen, and only a very cursory one at Shakespeare's. The Comedy of Errors, upon which The Boys is loosely based, never was one of the Bard's greatest creations anyway-he hadn't traded in his slapstick for lofty rhetoric and sublime poetry yet. Besides, he cribbed the plot from Plautus, who in turn had lifted it from the Greeks, so Rodgers and Hart were obviously working within a clearly established tradition.

And you can bet that neither Greek pan pipes nor Elizabethan sack buts could ever carry a really good Broadway tune. Richard Rodgers' score is overflowing with delightful melodies that are by turn jaunty and sweet. Harnessed to Lorenz Hart' witty and graceful lyrics, they pull the show along at an exhilarating clip, and in between numbers, George Abbott's book provides just the right mix of Shakespearean vaudeville and vaudevillian Shakespeare. Large chunks of iambic pentameter are carelessly tossed across the stage, only to be nimbly undercut by an outrageously topical reference or a wonderfully bad pun. And since its 1938 world premiere at the Shubert Theater, Boston, The Boys From Syracuse inspired quite a few more Shakespeare musicals, most notably Kiss Me, Kate, and its influence can also be seen all over A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.

The plot itself is pure mechanistic comedy of the most elemental kind, revolving around an almost abstract symmetry of mistaken identities. In sketch as succinctly as possible, there are two pairs of twins, each pair sharing name Antipholus of Syracuse (Harry S. Murphy) and Antipholus of Ephesus (Paul Schierhorn), and their servant Dromio of Syracuse (Thomas Derrah) and Dromio of Ephesus (Stephen Rowe). The Antipholi and Dromios were separated in s shipwreck at a very young age, and now Antipholus of Ephesus, having sought his lost lost twin for seven years, finds himself in the hostile city of Syracuse, not knowing tat this brother lives there. Naturally, all sense of identity is passed through the proverbial mix master of comedy, as Antipholus's wife Adriana (Susan Larson) switches husbands, the husbands switch servants, the servants switch wives, no one knows what anyone is talking about, and so forth until the happy ending, in which no, better not give it away (It's too obvious anyway.)

In print, the plot sounds supremely irrelevant, which is why Shakespeare's original is better seen than read, in music, it's all supremely entertaining. The Boys From Syracuse abounds with laughs (the weakest song, "You Have Cast Your Shadow on the Sea," is the lease witty,) but the comedy never becomes relentless. The characters while obviously comic types, never degenerate into mere cardboard cutouts to be manipulated according to the exigencies of plot, they don't have three dimensional life, but thanks to the music they at least gain two dimensional animation.

Boisterous ensemble numbers, such as "I Had Twins" and "Come With Me," have just the right angular snap to accompany the vivacious goings on-but, surprisingly, these numbers are few and far between. From the wry and ironic ("He and She") to the mock angry ("This Must Be Love"), love songs carry the evening. Rodgers and Hart humanized this essentially cruel comedy of slapstick and pratfall by bathing it in soft and lyrical Broadway footlights.

Tom Lynch's sets and Nancy Thun's costumes, an array of right, simple pastel designs, match the mood of the musical perfectly. Director Alvin Epstein and choreographer Kathryn Posin have thankfully kept the production loose and lively. If the opening number is a little ragged, and if the second act tends to sag a bit from loss of momentum, at least The Boys From Syracuse avoids that joyless Teutonic precision that seems to infect a lot of large scale Broadway productions these days.

The show's refreshing cheerfulness stems in a large part from the cast numbers, all of whom seem to be having an infectiously good time. This is the American Repertory Theater's first venture into the form of the musical, and many of the company's members are making their debuts as singers and dancers. The voices hold up surprisingly well, ranging from the operatic soprano of Susan Larson (who sand io Oriando last year) to the amusingly gruff song-speech of Jeremy Geidt. And while the dancing is not going to put Tommy Tune out of work, there are some fine numbers, including an amusingly effeminate soft-shoe by Harry S. Murphy ("Dear Old Syracuse"), a terrific trio by Susan Larson, Karen MacDonald, and Marianne Owen ("Sing For Your Supper"), and a hilariously frantic improvisation by Thomas Derrah at the close of Act I.

The comic routines have something of the same boisterously inventive spirit as last year's ART Sganarelle, though not quite as wonderfully anarchic. The only real disappointment comes from the massive chase-cum-ballet near the end of the musical; the frenetic back and forth motions of the whole cast never quite resolve into anything coherent, and the result is more confusing than funny.

As a whole, The Boys From Syracuse may suffer just a little from its virtues. Perhaps the geniality and entertainment of the evening betray a certain lack of ambition on the part of the ART. Perhaps the cast could be working on more serious projects. But then again, as the two Dromios proclaim by way of introduction, "If it's good enough for Shakespeare, it's good enough for us!"