"There's none but asses will be bridled so." (On "The Comedy of Errors")

I think I have to say this ahead of time: I love Shakespeare. I love his works, his words, his themes, the way he questions the world around him. I don't care how basic of an English major it makes me to wallow in his blank verse like a drunken harlequin at Carnevale.

But I also know that you can criticize something and still love it.

In his early years, Shakespeare was writing for a particular audience, with particular expectations about what they would see upon the stage, and was borrowing from ancient traditions, just as writers of sitcoms do today. They are shortcuts that allow viewers to skip to the interesting bits, because everyone already knows what is expected.

"A Comedy of Errors," like "The Tempest," is a rarity in Shakespeare's canon in that it follows the unities of time, place, and action. (Ben Jonson wrote scathingly that Shakespeare lacked art, though not nature, implying that his failure to follow the traditional unities was just that - a failure.) "Comedy" is also based heavily on the Roman playwright Plautus' Menaechmi, and follows the plot fairly closely, with the exception of adding the twin servants as further comic relief, and the reunion and frame story of the parents. This is important because Shakespeare is both working within and playing with the idea of tradition and stock characters.

The problem is, as with so many of the Bard's early plays, what his stock characters tell us. Unlike the Henriad, there are several female characters in "Comedy." Unfortunately, I wouldn't want to be any of them.

The cast list for women characters is as follows:

Adriana: Wife to Antipholus of Ephesus. She is depicted as materialistic (in her pursuit of the golden chain, described before we meet her,) scolding, possessive, and domineering (the "venom clamours of a jealous woman.../Have scared thy husband from the use of wits." V.i.). She is the stock wife character, still evident in sitcoms today, always suspicious, always talking, where the husband ducks away from her nagging. Her name brings to mind the Adriatic Sea, and there is much imagery of fishing and oceans. But the "fishwife" is the most common stereotypical nagging wife of the time, and Shakespeare names nothing by accident. 

Luciana: Adriana's sister, as yet unwed, but beloved by Antipholus of Syracuse. She is the epitome of virginal and meek, waiting for a husband who will master her, who claims that "headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe" (II.i). Her name means "light." (But hm. Shakespeare uses "light" otherwise in the play in its vernacular, mocking term, meaning "a loose woman." Is he making a point?) 

Nell: Also called "Luce," to some confusion, Nell is the servant of the Ephesian Antipholus family, and is never seen onstage. Here we see the most brutal tactics of relying on the stock character tropes: one can almost picture the Elizabethan crowd roaring on its benches at Dromio of Syracuse's description of Nell as fat ("spherical like a globe,") dark ([s]wart, like my shoe,) sweaty, grimy, balding, with a runny nose, stinking breath, and with an acne-covered nose, "all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires" (III.ii). She is also sexually deviant and seeks to make the Syracusan Dromio her sexual slave and husband, regardless of his wishes. (I'm reminded
of the old version of the "Pirates of the Caribbean" ride, where the pirates yelled out "We wants the redhead!" while the fat woman in blue chased her own pirate.)  

Aemilia: Abbess and (surprise!) mother to the twins and wife to Aegeon. She's the most NLOG character I've experienced so far in the Shakespeare 2020 Project, but I guarantee she won't be the last. She protects her precious Antipholus(es) from the pesky wives and other women who would seek to hold them accountable for their cheating and street fighting and otherwise mad behavior, blaming Adriana's (legitimately held) jealousy for Antipholus' (it doesn't matter which one's) angry behavior. 

The Courtezan: Sexy, has a great big gold ring that she pawns for a later chance at a larger gold chain, there just for the entertainment and general sexytimes aspect. 

Anyone else see the problem here? Would any woman I know actually want to be any of these women? Are these the only options available to us? And before you say a word, the rest of the men, particularly our two heroines, are typically considered "Of very reverend reputation, sir, / Of credit infinite, highly beloved, / Second to none that lives here in the city: / His word might bear my wealth at any time" (V.i).

When we talk about "the media" and "stereotypes," we are not just talking about the wealth of information available to us in the 21st century. We are talking about centuries of stock characters played for laughs, where women are played as objects with singular desires; a menu of undesirable options from which to choose, while the male characters are shown as the default, fully-fledged characters robust with humanity, forgiven for their cheating and their stupidity (really, Antipholus of Syracuse? You come to Ephesus specifically to look for your twin, and then are surprised when you are mistaken for him?) 

Shakespeare does push back a bit against the establishment. Luciana defends her sister against the stalwart Aemilia's criticism's with "She never reprehended him but mildly, / When he demean'd himself rough, rude and wildly" (V.i). But it seems that reprehending him at all for cheating, despite the fact that he did, in fact, attempt to cheat on her, is worse than the actual cheating. 

After all, it's nagging.

Laura Rook as Luciana and Melisa Pereyra as Adriana in the 2016 American Players Theatre Production of "The Comedy of Errors," Spring Green, WI.