Welton Jones

San Diego Arts

"The Merry Wives of Windsor" at the Old Globe Theatre

Falstaff Goes Western
By Welton Jones
Posted on Jul 07 2008
Last updated Jul 07 2008

Many elements of “The Merry Wives of Windsor” production now in the summer Shakespeare rotation at the Old Globe Theatre are, alone, worth the price of admission.

The play itself, one of Shakespeare’s sloppiest and silliest, is not one of them.

Written, according to tradition, in about two weeks when Queen Elizabeth I asked to see “Sir John in love,” “Merry Wives” is a ramshackle rustic farce depicting the beloved rogue Falstaff chasing married village matrons.

The humor is somewhere between guilty pleasure and I-must-have-been-drinking.

Still, “Merry Wives” works scandalously well if it’s being steered by a crafty vulgarian like Paul Mullins (That’s a compliment!), who has directed the Globe romp.

With nothing of any lasting artistic importance at stake, why not flip through the Book of Periods and choose a setting of more interest that Olde English? So Mullins picked the Old West, where mythic excess is hardly noticed.

The result includes, in no particular order, Jonathan McMurtry as Justice Shallow, all steely-eyed beneath the Buffalo Bill hairdo, and the Slowest Draw in the West. Possibly the most dangerous.

Barbara Wengard, a saloon-keeper so vivid and expansive that you forget the character was originally male.

Wynn Harmon as a fantastical Frenchman more elaborate than the prize pastry on the platter; Katie MacNichol and Celeste Ciulla as a pair of irresistible merry wives so much smarter and sexier than the usual bovine hausfraus; and Bruce Turk, his astounding vocabulary of movement equally at service to a pinched and jealous husband and the disguise of a rich philanderer.

Probably Eric Hoffmann’s Falstaff belongs on the list of worthies. He does get most of the best lines, but he also knows how to march them out smartly. Though his Western schtick is nearly the best on the stage – thick belt, high boots, fringed jacket – he pays little attention to the setting. This Sir John is genital-powered and nothing, include ignoble frustration, will stop him.

Ralph Funicello’s handsome and versatile (we now know for sure) summer set looks great covered with Old West signage but it’s the marvelous costumes of Denitsa Bliznakova that truly make this show work like a stroll through Cowboy Heaven. I wouldn’t change a stitch. I even forgive that one zipper.

Christopher R. Walker’s music is delicious, even the borrowed gunfighter riff from spaghetti westerns, and doubly so because it was impossible to decide whether Michael Kirby actually plays the piano. (Kirby is Bardolph; John Keabler as Pistol and Sam Henderson as Nym do indeed play banjo and harmonica, respectively and Celeste Ciulla joins in on fiddle for a refreshing live accompaniment to some truly rousing Wesley Fata choreography by the ladies of the ensemble. And, thanks again to Bliznakova, Keabler manages to look like Ben Johnson in a John Ford movie.)

(The preceding illustrates the tangents of delight which this show tends to inspire.)

There are other actors to acknowledge: Sloan Grenz as a nebbish suitor, George Page as a manly husband, Charles Jansz as a Welsh parson (Shakespeare overworked the dialects in this one!) and Deborah Taylor as a tireless busybody. Also, Carolyn Ratteray and Owiso Odera shoulder the thankless job of the semi-serious lovers honorably enough.

In fact, everybody involved in this jolly enterprise deserves credit for genial invention and accurate comedic choices.

Certainly that includes director Mullins, whose understanding of the borders between excellence and excess reinforces every charming aspect of this delicious entertainment.

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About the author: Welton Jones has been reviewing shows for 50 years as of October 2007, 35 of those years at the UNION-TRIBUNE and, now, six for SANDIEGO.COM where he wrote the first reviews to appear on the site.
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