The bad
brother, the not so bad brother and the quite nice brothers
in
The Comedy of Errors
That was going to be the title of this text
because while reading the play I took a dislike to Antipholus of Ephesus. He
calls his wife a strumpet and a harlot, at the least bad temper he’s off to the
town courtesan, and he beats his poor servant Dromio.
Well, so does Antipholus of Syracuse, but
he’s friends with his Dromio as well, jokes with him, talks to him.
Having just watched the BBC production from
1983 I’m at a loss what to think, what to write. Michael Kitchen as the
Antipholi is extremely likeable in both roles. Amiable, kind, melancholy,
well-spoken in love as Antipholus of Syracuse. Sarcastic, funny, justifiably
withering in comments against those he believes have wronged him as Antipholus
of Ephesus. Roget Daltry is adorable (sorry, soapy word, but he is!) as the
Dromios, so I still like them both.
Right. We have the Globe production from
2014 to watch. Judgment pending until then. Back soon.
Well. That helped not at all. Many of the
Globe’s productions are slapstick and so is this one. Often very funny but not
subtle in the least, making no use of the many emotional nuances that make this
play (and all of Shakespeare’s comedies) so much more than zany. It’s enjoyable
and colourful and there’s a lot of shouting and waving about of arms and running
about the stage, but none of that clarifies my dilemma. Is Antipholus of Ephesus
mean? Is Antipholus of Syracuse less mean? Are both Dromios nice?
The answer, if there is one, might be found
– oh revolutionary thought! – in the text.
I’ll start with Antipholus of Ephesus.
Before we meet him we learn from his wife Adriana and her sister Luciana that
Antipholus spends much of his time away from home. This pains his wife but
seems to his sister-in-law completely natural. Since this is an amusing but disturbing
exchange about the role of wives in relations to their lords and masters, the
husbands, it opens the path to a man who in his first line when we encounter
him in Act 3.1 calls his wife ‘shrewish’ but is having a gold necklace made for
her. He then calls his servant an ass, but that’s not too great an insult, one
to which, along with beatings, Dromio is accustomed. That Antipholus shows
irritation at being locked out of his own home is not surprising but when he
says, ‘I know a wench of excellent discourse’, and proposes to give her the
chain, ‘Be it nothing but to spite my wife - ’ that’s when I start to dislike
him. Because I already like Adriana. He
then sends Dromio for a rope to ‘bestow / Among my wife and her confederates’
(Act 4.1). To whip them? Tie them up? Hang them? He later calls Dromio (of
Syracuse), who doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, a madman, a peevish
sheep and a drunken slave, but entrusts him with the key to his treasure chest
at home. When his own Dromio comes with the rope, Antipholus beats him and
Dromio complains at length of all the beatings he has had to endure from his
master. Who then beats him again. He also beats Pinch, the doctor and conjuror
and calls Adriana a minion (servant) and by calling her companions ‘customers’
accuses her of harlotry. When Adriana denies that she locked him out and swears
that he dined at home with her he calls her, ‘Dissembling harlot…with these
nails I’ll pluck out these false eyes…O, most unhappy strumpet!’ (Act 4.4)
OK, he’s not Macbeth or Lear or Richard III
or any of those other of Shakespeare’s real villains, but he’s not an endearing
character either.
His brother? We see a lot more of him. When
we meet him he and Dromio have just arrived in Ephesus. He is ‘weary with long
travel…stiff and weary’ and he tells a merchant that Dromio is
A trusty villain,
sir, that very oft,
When I am dull with
care and melancholy,
Lightens my humour
with his merry jests (Act 1.2).
When left alone to wander the town at his
content he contemplates:
He that commends me
to mine own content
Commends me to the
thing I cannot get.
I to the world am
like a drop of water
That in the ocean
seeks another drop,
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth –
Unseen, inquisitive - confounds himself.
So I, to find a
mother and a brother,
In quest of them,
unhappy, lose myself (Act 1.2).
From the start then Antipholus of Syracuse
reveals himself as a melancholy, contemplative, lonely seeker who regards his
servant almost as a friend. That he then beats and later chides Dromio (the
other one) over the misunderstanding about the money shows their master-servant
relationship but still, he doesn’t accuse Dromio of thievery. Instead he blames
‘some device or other…Dark-working sorcerers…soul-killing witches…’ (act 1.2).
Unlike his twin, he doesn’t immediately believe the worst of others.
Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse return
easily enough to their bantering and when confronted by Adriana, who addresses
Antipholus as husband, he is unfailingly polite, though confused, and in all
innocent confusion he falls in love with his supposed sister-in-law Luciana. He
romantically woos her, in spite of her dismayed requests that he turn his
devotion to his wife, not to her. He
says:
Thee will I love, and
with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband
yet, nor I no wife:
Give me thy hand (Act
3.2).
Ah, sweet Antipholus of Syracuse! I’m half
in love with him myself.
Nevertheless, he’s upset by what he
continues to regard as witchcraft and determines to leave Ephesus immediately
which doesn’t, I suppose, make him a very constant and true lover. On the other hand, she hasn’t responded
positively to his short courtship so maybe he can be forgiven.
He never succeeds in leaving and in the
final scene where the muddle is all explained he remains kind and polite and
his last words are to his Dromio: ‘Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him’
(Act 5.1).
What a nice man!
And the two Dromios? One continually beaten
by his master but in love with the fat cook. The other a merry and clever
wordsmith who gives as good as he gets in wordplay with his master. These two
are charming and delightful. They carry the play.
Bad, less bad and quite nice. I think I’ll
change that to: not at all likable – Antipholus of Ephesus. Quite a deep
character for whom I feel great affection – Antipholus of Syracuse. And two
lovable rascals – the Dromios.
All in one of my favourite Shakespeare
plays.
See further in Shakespeare Calling – the book http://www.amazon.com/Shakespeare-Calling-book-Ruby-Jand/dp/9163782626?ie=UTF8&keywords=ruby%20jand&qid=1464585465&ref_=sr_1_3&s=books&sr=1-3
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