A Comedy of Errors (Six on Shakespeare)

"Do you know me, sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I myself?" Shakespeare's fool in A Comedy of Errors questions identity in what could go down a rabbit hole of existential philosophizing.

So could local theater troupe Six on Shakespeare's decision to split its cast by sex. The all-female production runs Thursdays and Saturdays; men take the stage Fridays and Sundays. Mistaken identities perhaps, but serious commentary on gender discrepancies in the arts this is not.

Shakespeare's shortest farce is slapped together with nonstop wordplay and overt sex jokes—picture ball gags and riding crops, fake breasts that resemble a fifth-grade art project, and cast members breaking into song and dance.

The play begins in the city of Ephesus, where a Syracusan merchant narrates the tragic separation of two sets of twins, the boys Antipholus of Ephesus and Antipholus of Syracuse, and the sirrahs, Dromio of Ephesus and Dromio of Syracuse. When Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse travel to their rival state of Ephesus in search of their respective brothers, both Antipholi and Dromios are mistaken for each other. In true to form, who's who keeps everyone's heads spinning until the neat tie-up.

"A Comedy of Errors is, in its own title, a comedy about craziness," says director Bill Barry. "I took that and ran with it." And they ran, far. "This play is twisted on its side, it's a full on Monty Python farce," says Michelle Seaton, who plays Egeon. This SNL-like comedy sketch is a light-hearted battle-of-the-sexes social experiment. So, who wins?

When Ben Plont filled in at the last minute for female cast member MaryAnne Glazebrook, he became the perfect measuring stick for our debate. "My interpretations are pretty much the same, but my reactions will be different based on the gigantic differences between the male cast and the female cast," says Plont, who plays a Persian merchant in the male version.

The women were up first. As Barry says, "Men have had the opportunity to wear drag [in Shakespeare], and women rarely get the opportunity to do the same thing." Careful costuming and a signature gesture make the sets of twins discernible, but it's their performances that make them believable. Torrey Cornwell's Adriana, duchess of Ephesus, is sincere as the nagging wife with a spot-on Jersey accent. She sticks out like a sore thumb in her blue silk kimono and Snooki bouffant hairdo, but her credible and hilarious performance fits flawlessly. The women playing men do just as well, especially a strong Cecily Overman juggling both Antipholi, and Melissa Whitney as a powerhouse Solinus.

Here Plont could have been the odd man out; instead, he was the best error. Flanked by females, he delivered sidesplitting quips and punch lines, often in a dead-ringer Sean Connery impersonation.

However, alongside his fellow male castmates, Plont's jokes fall flat. The men portray underdeveloped characters and rely too heavily on individual props to keep their wits about them. It's confusing, not comedic, when Chris Murphy fumbles to put on Luciana's flaming red wig while simultaneously exposing the courtesan's nipple clamps. And the only distinction between Antipholi is their colored lapels. Even playing their own sex, the men feel like a botched boob job, hard and uncomfortably obvious. But when the females go macho, it looks like the real deal. Honestly, no one here is spotting the difference; they're still snickering because someone said "boob."

SEE IT: A Comedy of Errors is at the Back Door Theater, 4319 SE Hawthorne Blvd., 481-2960. 7:30 pm Thursdays-Sundays through April 19. $18.

WWeek 2015