Patti Murin stars in this goofy take on Shakespeare. (
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‘It’s the first time together and I’m feeling kinda horny/Conventional methods of makin’ love kinda bore me.”
You may have guessed this lyric — crooned, R&B-style, in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” in Central Park — isn’t by Shakespeare. But somehow it perfectly belongs in this madcap production.
For this new Public Theater adaptation of the comedy, songwriter Michael Friedman and director/adapter Alex Timbers basically followed the M.O. that served them well on their irreverent hit “Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson”: The characters alternate between period language and contemporary vernacular, with jokey references coming out at a fast and furious clip.
The show is goofier than its direct ancestor, the 1971 rock musical “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” Here, the Bard’s war of the sexes is a cross between a Disney Channel movie and “Spam-alot.” And for the most part, it’s a wacky good time.
The action has been reset to a college reunion at a bucolic resort, where the king (Daniel Breaker, late of “Passing Strange”) and his three buddies have decided to trade their partying ways for chaste scholarship.
Showing up with scores to settle are the bros’ former paramours, including the perky blond princess (Patti Murin, “Lysistrata Jones”) who once had “a fling with the king.”
Also hanging out is former exchange student Armado (Caesar Samayoa), a Spaniard in love with the resort’s foxy maid, Jaquenetta (Rebecca Naomi Jones).
From there it’s anything goes as Timbers and Friedman throw everything but the kitchen sink at us: audience participation, a cover of Mr. Big’s “To Be With You” complete with boy-band moves, a sparkly ensemble tap number, a spoof of German performance artists.
In these scenes, the show is firing on all cylinders, especially since the cast is packed with game comedians — “Saturday Night Live” alum Rachel Dratch even appears as a scholar.
Things get stickier when they get serious as Friedman and Timbers struggle with the transitions into a darker mood. Out of the blue, Jones gets a big solo with “Love’s a Gun,” which tells us it’s also a crime. Mostly it’s a mess of sloppy metaphors.
The show also couldn’t figure out how to solve Shakespeare’s unwieldy ending, so it tried to cover all the bases with left-field surprise guests and an abrupt turn into wistfulness. It might have been better to stick it to Shakespeare one last time and go off with an out-and-out bang.