Q: WHAT HAS ROMANCE intrigue, subtle comedy, and meaningful social commentary?

A: Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice

Q: What has sex, drugs, drunken frolicking, a game show, and music from the 1920s?

It's director Jeffrey Rossman's production of The Merchant of Venice, which resembles the Bard's in script alone. Although the program informs us that "the action of the play occurs in the late 1920s" both before and after the stock market crash, the play incorporates such a hodgepodge of artifacts from different decades that it leaves us in no particular location at no particular point in time.

Rossman deserves credit for his innovative idea of setting this play in the '20s, and the whole crew should be commended for their obviously meticulous efforts in carrying out the '20s theme in costume, set and atmosphere. But the anachronism just doesn't work.

As the play opens, we see Shylock (Jon King)--in wheelchair, tuxedo and yarmulke--bounded off the dark stage by an enraged mob shouting "Kill the Jew." The lights go up to reveal an exquisite set, half of which is an elaborate nightclub (owned by Shylock, the program says), complete with bar and black-and-white checkered dance floor. The other half is Portia's plush, art-deco apartment. When the Keezers-clad cast breezes in, singing a hearty rendition of "Happy Days are Here Again," we are firmly placed in the '20s, when, we are to assume, everybody wore tuxedos.

WHERE ARE WE? Apparently not in Italy, though there is much discussion of Padua. Venice and ducats. In Paris?--Bassanio reads. "Le Monde." Perhaps in America, where all the songs from Cabaret which delineate the scenes would be most appropriate. But it so, why are these people speaking in such silly Elizabethan English.

The opening scenes feature the nightclub antics of a group of tuxedo-clad young bachelors. They who booze it up and swing (literally) from the ceiling pipes--Keezers visits the Hasty Pudding Club. There is a constant supply of suitors and young fops to hang out at Shylock's nightclub, where the bartender, played by John Frederick, does an admirable acting job both as Launcelot Gobbo and the tippling drinkmaker Salerio (Richard Rutowski) and Solanio (Peter Vrooman) clown remarkably well in these scenes: they are especially endearing when they mock Shylock's cry of "My daughter, my ducats," bat somewhat abrasive when they snort cocaine or simulate intercourse on stage to make fun of the courting couple Jessica and Lorenzo.

The most consistently entertaining parts of the play are the gossipy girl-talk scenes between Portia (Diane Paulus) and her, uh "nurse." Nerissa (Rebecca Clark)--their pouty cutdowns of Portia's suitors are hilarious, and Paulus' rendition of "My Heart Belongs to Daddy," is a cute touch within the context of the play. Paulus gives the most consistently impressive performance in the play even though she has a broken arm, in cast and sling.

THE PLAY TRULY loses its '20s flavor and focus, however, when it comes time for Portia's suitors to compete for her hand in marriage: as the them song from. "The Dating Game" plays in the background, an emcee in a glittery silver suit and wide pink tie (David Angel) pulls a curtain to reveal three coffins, and welcomes a mob of cheering cast members to "Choose that Casket." Nerissa holds up an "Applause" sign. Here, the cast "deviates" from Shakespeare's script. After the emcee announces that the first contestant is the Prince of Morocco (Nestor Figueroa), he asks." Tell me about yourself--where are you from?" "Morocco" answers the Prince, while the other suitors howl "Go for the gold" in the background.

This game show brings as out of the '20s and into the '70s. But wait--inside the silver casket is a picture of Ronald Reagan, and we are suddenly reminded of the '80s Rossman heaps anachronisms on top of anachronisms, from Portia's touch-once telephone to Jessica and Lorenzo's bout with marijuana, and the product gives the audience a queasy and disorienting trip through decades and centuries.

In addition to the confusion about time, there is the problem of Shylock. King imbues the role with a range of interpretations, making the character truly come to life. He is evil and sly when he demands his "bond." pathetic and desperate when he calls for "revenge," and a maligned and wronged father when persecuted by the younger generation. But, why is he in an electric wheelchair, aside from its being a useful prop with which to propel him around the stage? Shylock is handicapped enough by being a Jew in a Christian society, and the '20s setting emphasizes that such prejudices are universal in time. But this added handicap is distracting: when he suddenly rumps out of the chair during the "revenge" speech, the audience doesn't know whether it is meant to be poignant or not.

When Antonio (Lewis Goldman) and Bassanio (Tony Klein) approach Shylock for Antonio's loan, the ambiguity is compounded. Although everyone is supposed be prosperous, Antonio needs a loan and "begs' Shylock while calmly smoking cigarette in the "villain's" face.

When Shylock sings "Money Makes the World Go Around," in the middle of the play it is amusing. But Rossman has chosen to end the play with Antonio sitting alone in the darkened nightclub, slowly crooning this song's retrain. This seems to be an attempt to turn the play from a comedy into Shylock's tragedy.

This production of The Merchant of Venice runs three hours. So does the final exam for Lit and Arts A-40. "Shakespeare." Opt for the latter.