Summary 
Modernized to pre-World War One Europe with a playful sense but an underlying darkness as global conflict looms. Charming portrayals with a clever costume color-coding for easy match-making, and an onstage quartet musically enhances the production. A light and elegant entertainment somewhat marred by crudely drawn and over-the-top smaller comic roles.
Design
Directed by Barbara Gaines. Set by Michael Philippi. Lights by Robert Perry. Costumes by Virgil Johnson. Sound by Scott Myers. Compositions by Alaric Jans.
Cast
Timothy Edward Kane (King Ferdinand), Jay Whittaker (Longaville), Krishna Le Fan (Dumaine), Timothy Gregory (Berowne), Bradley Mott (Dull), Ross Lehman (Costard), Scott Jaeck (Armado), Lusia Strus (Jaquenetta), Fredric Stone (Boyet), Karen Aldridge (Princess), Hollis McCarthy (Maria), Michele Graff (Katharine), Kate Fry (Rosaline), Bernie Landis (Nathaniel), Paul Slade Smith (Holofernes).
Analysis
Barbara Gaines' production transcends the featherweight themes and slight poetry of Love's Labour's Lost. The orange-lit thrust stage, sunny and resplendent with scarlet flowers, features a downstage platform with steps leading to a playing area with white marble columns on both sides. An upstage scrim reveals mountainous islands in the distance across an expanse of two-dimensional blue water. A sense of melancholy belies the lovely scenery: a green weeping willow stands at stage right and the visible trees feature solemn autumnal shades of orange, brown and red.
Four wooden tables with padded stools occupy the corners of the downstage area, and the setting recalls an exclusive lakeside academic retreat. A string quartet - three violins and a cello - plays upstage as the King of Navarre and his boyish friends bound onstage. Wearing white linen pants along with wingtip shoes and yellow sweater vests, the four young men toss around a soccer ball and seem to be the wealthy collegiate elite of pre-World War One Europe.
Timothy Gregory's dashing Berowne is the only one of the four who does not wear a tie, and he wears his shirtsleeves rolled up, clearly the least serious of them. The King snaps his fingers to punctuate the 1.1 signing of oaths, and he commands dramatic string music at each melodramatic moment. Berowne offers comic hesitation, his pen hanging over the parchment, and the men cheer when he finally signs. When the four sit down to serious study, they are of course unable to concentrate or remain still for more than moments. After sighs, groans and eye-rolls, at the prospect of a little fun - "is there no quick recreation granted?" - they all leap to their feet and resume their soccer game.
Veteran actors expertly portray comic relief. A lisping Armado, in long hair and goatee and wearing a corset and knee socks, appears for 1.2. At "comfort me, boy" he is promptly handed a looking glass by Moth, and he growls at his rival Costard, then drops to his hands and knees to kiss the ground upon which Jaquenetta walks. Costard blusters his way through the first act, all posturing and haranguing as he struggles in on-going jokes to pronounce Armado's name - Armando, Armada - and Armado's "remuneration." Physical comedy abounds - the King pushes Costard away by his face and Berowne covers Costard's mouth with his hand - and when the passionate letter is read aloud, Jaquenetta sits and swings her legs back and forth, undulating carnally and moaning in impending orgasm a la Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.
Gaines maintains the silliness with the 2.1 interaction between the King's court and the Princess and her train. Berowne clumsily follows Rosaline too closely down the steps; the King kisses the Princess's hand then stumbles and nearly falls; and Rosaline chases after the Princess to kiss her with glee. Their behavior belies the apparent physical maturity of the performers, and there is a sense of an immature Europe unprepared for approaching conflict. Gaines color-codes the lovers for easy identification: the women's dresses, shoes, hats, and parasols coordinate with their male counterpart's ties and hats - pink, peach, lavender, and blue. The women arrive for 4.1 within an upstage gondola, and a luminous Rosaline bandies with Boyet - "thou canst not hit it" - then dances and sings with him.
Armado and Costard are a comic delight - the braggart Armado waves off an onstage guitarist in 3.1 ("warble, child"), denying him a tip, then laughs so hard he injures his spleen; Costard slips a flower behind Berowne's ear as he collects a tip, then sings about remuneration while he strolls his way through the audience, continuing even as he exits behind the seats.
Less successful, perhaps due to the steady stream of silliness from other characters, are the portrayals of Nathaniel, Holofernes, and Dull. Holofernes, a tall, gangly jester, wears spectacles and an orange scarf over a scholar's robe, and his carroty hair protrudes sideways from his head like that of a circus clown. Holofernes at times resorts to pig latin, and his 5.1 exchange with Armado is a series of "butt" jokes, with the Spaniard bending at the waist at every mention of "posterior" and heavy inflections on "I do assure ye" and "I crave your assistance." The obese Dull belches and makes masturbatory gestures, watching the action with a pair of binoculars and saying little. Costard, with a series of raspberries and flatulence noises, degrades the sequence to the scatalogical.
The earlier 4.3 scene between the boyish lovers trying in vain to conceal their devotion is by contrast sweet and amusing. Gregory's athletic Berowne leaps into a stage left tree to avoid the straw-hatted Longaville, who wears his poems plastered across his body. Berowne conceals his giggles and laughs by first whistling like a songbird then cawing like a crow. When he reveals himself to the other three lovers - "good my liege" - they scream and scatter in panic.
Gregory concludes the first act with a tenderly well-sung love song, imbuing the production with a poignant moment after such silliness as Jaquenetta saluting at the phrase "saluteth us" and Holofernes limping in carnal excitement at her orgasmic response to the letter. The second act continues the lightweight frivolity that entertains despite its vapid nature. For the 5.2 masque, six huge round balls drop from lines to dangle and spin over the performers' heads. The men appear as absurd Russian soldiers - "farevell mad venches!" - in masks and fake mustaches, folding their arms and standing with their backs to one another as they punctuate their remarks with an occasional "Hey!" The string quartet plays behind them in the upstage gondola as the lovers rush back to the stage, with the frisky Rosaline then mocking Berowne, numbering his myriad mistakes by licking a finger and counting strikes in the air.
Gaines concludes the production with the difficult Nine Worthies presentation. While Dull beats a bass drum, Costard appears as Pompey wielding a shield made from metal dishes. Later, the nerve-wracked Nathaniel has his lines audibly cued to him from off stage. A somber conclusion approaches with Nathaniel's wounded condemnation of the lovers' callousness - "not generous, not gentle" - and then Marcade arrives in black robes with news of the death of the Princess's father.
After the lovers pair off to discuss and debate their looming twelve month separation, Gaines provides a memorable closing image: as the women slowly exit in a procession to stage left, the men stand silhouetted in approaching darkness, sadly watching them leave. Along with nightfall, an emotional maturity seems imminent, as does autumn, and as does the beginning of the Great War. This final flourish is typical of Gaines' directorial efforts, as is this elegant and musical production, a strong effort at a less than notable play.
Note: A version of this article was edited and published in Shakespeare Bulletin, Vol.21, No.2, Spring/Summer 2003.