“This Is the Tragic Part of the Comedy”
The Comedy of Errors books arrived this week, and the group dove straight in. The story begins with Egeon, a weary father from Syracuse who faces execution in Ephesus unless he can pay a ransom. As he explains to the Duke, years earlier, his family was torn apart in a storm at sea—his wife and one son drifting away with one servant, while he and the other son survived. The absurdity and sadness struck the ensemble all at once. “Antipholus rhymes with Syphilis,” someone joked, breaking the tension. Another observed, “This is the tragic part of the comedy,” recognizing Shakespeare’s ability to layer grief beneath laughter.
By the end of Act 1, everyone was hooked. “It’s the illogical part that makes it work,” someone said. The group marveled that both twins—and their servants—share the same names. “He’s basically setting them up for failure!” one participant laughed. But even as the group played with the humor, the conversation turned toward empathy. “It’s the tragic part of the comedy,” one repeated. “He’s just trying to find his family.”
Thursday brought a very different kind of energy. Reading Act 2.1, the ensemble encountered Adriana and Luciana—the play’s central women—locked in a debate about love and loyalty. Adriana is furious that her husband seems to neglect her; Luciana, her sister, insists that wives should be patient and obedient. What followed in the room mirrored the play itself: “I don’t want to be in Shakespeare’s day,” one participant said. “If I can’t have liberties and be seen and not heard—I don’t think so.” Another countered, “My husband leads the house. My opinion is respected, but he leads the house.” Then, voices piled on: “Never depend on a man.” “I run this shit!” “Ain’t nobody gonna run me.”
The debate got lively and loud, full of conviction and laughter. “If it is done properly, respect goes both ways,” someone concluded. Another added, “It has to be equal.” What could have been a centuries-old conversation about gender became a living exchange about equality and autonomy in the here and now. When the group returned to Adriana’s speech, one participant said softly, “She is so defeated. I don’t know if a sunny look from him would repair her.” The group nodded, understanding that even in a farce, Shakespeare’s women still are complicated and contain hidden depths.