The prologue to Dan Jemmett’s “Comédie des erreurs” is as serious as can be, and so gives away nothing of the pure madness that follows. With tears in his eyes, elderly Egeon tells how he and his wife, their identical sons, both named Antipholus, and the sons’ twin servants, both Dromio, were separated at sea and how he has braved death to come to Ephesus looking for the pair he lost.  “Nothing” is an overstatement perhaps:  there is the matter of the four port-a-potties lined up across the stage and the open beer taps from which the characters generously serve themselves. From the start, Jemmett gives Shakespeare’s early farce the trappings of an inebriated street party, and no sooner has Egeon delivered his prologue than some strange characters start emerging from those plastic water-closets.

There are the brothers Antipholus, in purple crushed velvet and gelled hair spikes or heavy rimmed glasses; the goldsmith Angelo in a red satin jacket and jet black toupee, sisters Adriana and Luciana looking ready for an ‘80s disco (the “greatest hits” of which a CD player intermittently provides) and the seemingly disarticulated Dromio(s) who dash across the stage like greased lightening in pursuit of their masters. Jemmett’s fascination with puppet theater and his child-like wonder before the theater possibility are ever close at hand, giving rise to a particular approach to space, objects and actors: he finds a plasticity in these which can urge texts to new levels of understanding, sometimes with the bright lights and decors of a midway attraction, often with  the unrestrained slapstick of a Punch and Judy show.

His intuitive approach allows him to rely on just five actors to play the dozen or so roles here;  hats, hair, glasses and some ingenious door-spinning are all it takes to see the twins stand side by side on stage, although each set is played by a single actor. The cast shines, every one: David Ayala is supremely watchable as the befuddled Antipholus(es), sympathetic “Slaves to Love” throughout, with some serious dance moves to boot; Vincent Berger creates opposing Dromios, the one as guileless as the other is smooth; while Valérie Crouzet incarnates both a hysterically shrewish Adriana and her alter-ego, Antipholus II’s agreeably vapid “Private Dancer”. Thierry Bosc and Julie-Anne Roth excel in the remaining roles (Pitch re-looked as a mad-scientist-cum-janitor, the sincere Egeon, a tippling abbess and the unflappable Luciana, tough enough to risk “Dancing with Myself”). A few astute cuts and gestures and the audience finds itself standing in for the rest. 

Jemmett and his excellent players spin two hours worth of pure fun, from gags to references to their collective, boundless energy, while offering an intelligent reflection, through the portrayal of the two-in-one twins, on the theater premise and the suspension of belief. Not an error to be seen.

Jan. 19-Feb. 12, Tues-Sat, 9 pm, Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord , 37 bis, boulevard de la Chapelle, 10e, Mº La Chapelle, 14-28 euros, tel: 01.46.07.34.50.

An interview with Dan Jemmett is available on http://www.paris-theater.blogspot.com

Photo: Mario Del Curto