Set in a modest community theater in 1942, Into the Breeches involves women taking Shakespearean roles traditionally played by men. Why? Like those characters, suitable townsmen are off fighting a real war. The play is supposed to be funny—but it’s not funny-peculiar, only partly funny-ha-ha, and mostly funny-silly-stupid. Apparently playwright George Brant thinks First Henry IV, Second Henry IV and Henry V are only two plays that he can effectively skip back and forth between, edit into snippets, and often modernize in language, style, and meaning. Only in the case of stuffed-into-costume Peggy Roeder (Winifred Snow), made to imitate mustached Groucho Marx playing Falstaff, comes the comedy that most justifies updating that great character. Whether the comic or serious is called for in their roles or lives, all’s better treated by the actors than the script. Madeleine Maby, supposed to be the heroine as a realistic artistic director and loving wife of a serviceman in danger, shows pluck despite little to go on in the modern script and her efforts with the strange placement of the Prologue to Henry V. In no case do the offstage servicemen referred to seem real. Tina Stafford stands out as the experienced, usual star who assumes she’ll be Prince Hal. As hammy Celeste, she tries to and often succeeds in taking over all her rehearsal scenes. Celeste’s shortcomings eventually give a boost to Amber McNew’s stage presence and handling of major role. Jillian Cicalese’s June is youngest and seems not always sure of where she fits into the cast. Still, she manages well a dramatically not-very-French Princess Katherine and catches the spirit of lesser parts. As the costumer Ida, Diana Coates displays sense and efficiency. When called on to perform, she’s proves not only versatile but quite talented. An African-American living in a segregated neighborhood of the time, Ida and her worth bring contemporary P.C. into the play. There’s a hint of same-sex attraction after the wooing scene too, but that may be due to direction, not the script. Grant Chapman’s competent stage manager Stuart reveals he’s not in service because he was classified “swishy”. (The author’s P.C. here did not please me, because my M.D. father, who got a medal for his free Selective Service examining WWII recruits and draftees, never considered anyone “swishy” or any disqualification on a sexual basis.) In the play, Chapman excels when he gets to be a costumed Queen Elizabeth and later a modern Woman in White (nurse). Matt DeCaro, celebrated locally for his drag roles, is a convincing Ellsworth Snow, head of the theater executive Board, which is reluctant to continue the Oberon’s annual Shakespearean presentation without men, especially a never-seen military man who would seem an irreplaceable artistic director and production manager. Ellsworth not only backs the show out of love for wife Winifred but appears at opening night in clothing meant to indicate solidarity with her and her fellow women. Laura Copley does as well as might be expected directing her husband Brant’s script. They both have drawn laughs but without as much success in parts of the script that play to the heart with reference to the much-missed men in the real war. The technical crew faithfully present a community theater’s sets, lighting, costumes, and wigs available for annual Shakespeare productions. Movement, particularly in comically staged rehearsals for sword fights, succeeds. Finally, do all elements suggest that without men, especially at a community theater, Shakespearean drama per se probably won’t succeed? Is appropriate P.C. needed?
