Had Shakespeare lived just 400 years later, he would have been in for a pleasurable surprise. The spirit of the bawdy bard is alive, well, and spoofing his play titles this month at the Public Theater. Though Shakespeare did not make it to a semi-important phase in England's history-let's call it the Restoration-playwright David Grimm picks up where he left off with a self-proclaimed "Restoration Romp," set during the Lent season in 1751.
Grimm, known for his interest in history and writing in verse, does not disappoint in Measure for Pleasure, assuming that a manservant falling in love with a young transvestite prostitute is a sound historical probability. All evidence aside, the slew of double entendre, familiar exaggerations of stodgy English types, and overall presentation set this world premiere comedy squarely in its desired year, with a modern self-consciousness that helps it achieve a quick pace through snappy dialogue.
Measure for measure, though, this is Michael Stuhlbarg's show. The Tony-nominated actor, for last season's The Pillowman, is back, lighter in weight and attitude, as he takes on significantly less dark material. From his captivating opening plea to turn off all cell phones through hysterical and somber scenes, Stuhlbarg plays valet Will Blunt for all he's worth. In a bright-pink period costume, he steals every moment with wry humor and endearing sincerity in his love for prostitute-cum-lady's-maid Molly Tawdry.
This is a particularly impressive feat given the talent sharing the stage. Stuhlbarg plays servant to Wayne Knight of Seinfeld fame who, as Sir Peter Lustforth, lives up to the role of dirty old man with the right combination of tenacity and disgusting wit. Fellow Tony-nominee Euan Morton (Taboo) dons a dress and makeup again for his turn as Molly, but his real abilities reveal themselves in Molly's disguise as Doctor Quack in the second act. Rounding out the set of Tony-nominated actors is Suzanne Bertish (The Moliere Comedies), who successfully humanizes the dreadful, vain, and tone-deaf Lady Vanity Lustforth, another startling feat.
The cast has an easy camaraderie with the audience and each other, making it hard not laugh out loud and enjoy the efforts of a group that aims to please. Among the cast's strongest abilities is being able to either deadpan or play up, depending on the mood, the constant stream of provocative, raunchy puns intended to get a rise out of the audience. Susan Blommaert as the puritanical Dame Stickle is especially adept and appears rarely enough that her presence is a welcoming treat.
Measure is audience-friendly even in that the complexities of a traditionally comedic plot laden with disguises, surprises, and mixed-up relationships are not difficult to follow. Yet the play does have its dull moments, the result of good scenes gone on too long.
During these times, there is enough aesthetic to admire when the pleasure of the plot momentarily wanes. Anita Yavich's costumes are gorgeous and, if you become distracted enough, it is easy to marvel at her attention to details, such as the impeccably designed color scheme visible when an array of beautiful, shiny pastel outfits is onstage together.
Given the lighthearted atmosphere the play creates, it is that much more remarkable that it broaches its serious material-infidelity, unrequited love, and domestic dysfunction, for starters-with an even temper. As the characters reveal their unpleasant pasts in a series of drunken revelations, the cast displays its ability to tackle fun and fear with equal flair, and the writing proves that it wants to and can be taken as more than a cheap sex farce.
Regrettably, though, the play ends on a trite note that even the characters' warnings of impending cliche, and its positive message, cannot help. Until that point, it is possible to take in good fun all of its glaring attempts to show how bawdy it can be, including the gigantic vagina-shaped cave filled with phallic art. Site of Act Two's frenetic, fantastical orgy, the cave scene (according to the Playbill) resembles a typical activity of an actual historical secret society attended by "the likes of Benjamin Franklin," which is in no way a pleasurable image to imagine.
Though it is now the 250th anniversary of the Lent season in which the play is set, don't give up the chance to experience Measure for Pleasure's rousing lesson in love, pleasure, and second chances. Shakespeare would have wanted it that way.