But soon Iago is up to his old tricks, and, in a clever scene, turns Desdemona against Constance with the same words that had convinced Othello in the opening scene. Constance's only escape is another sudden jump, this time into Romeo and Juliet, where the abundant joys of sexual innuendo are added to those of Elizabethan paraphrase.
The central conceit here is that Romeo and Juliet are both just horny, whiny teenagers, and that Romeo is actually gay. Thus both lovers fall for Constance, thinking her to be a boy, and both cross-dress to gain her attention, leading to gems such as: "Doth no one in Verona sail straight?".
In the end, of course, everyone gets the chance to learn some life lessons: for example, that real life is more complex than a Shakespeare play. The same cannot be said for Goodnight Desdemona, whose sensibility and pacing are exactly those of a sitcom.
Within the play, however, the actors--each of whom, except Constance, plays several roles--demonstrate more talent than the script can readily accommodate. Lindsey Richardson's Constance is appropriately timid and awkward, and while her mannerisms tend towards the cute, this is no more than the character demands.
As Juliet, Nora Dickey is winningly zany, jumping for any chance at a tragic suicide, and she relishes her lascivious double-entendres so much that we can't help but join in. Erik Amblad is surprisingly good in his brief serious scene from Othello, and plays both Tybalt and Constance's boss with doltish pride tempered by the right hint of self-mockery; his turn in drag, as Juliet's Nurse is low comedy but well done.
The real stars of the evening are Andrew Barth, as Iago and Romeo, and Stephanie Smith as Mercutio and Desdemona. It is tempting to imagine them as Viola and Malvolio or Beatrice and Benedick in some future HRDC production. Barth is wonderfully vicious as Iago, and his Romeo, while predictably over-the-top, retains more grace and wit than the buffoonish comedy demands Smith's comic zeal and exuberance make her the focus of every scene she is in; her Mercutio is delightful, and her Desdemona is as perfect a performance of that sadly banal role as could be imagined.
The whole cast demonstrates a startling physical prowess, as well. Elaborate swordfights, dramatic pratfalls, and dirty dancing are all executed beautifully, as is a graceful pantomime to the music of Pachelbel's Canon at the end of the play.
A great deal of credit is due to Amalie Weber, the choreographer, who has managed to effect the transition from ordinary motion to dance so that, for a few moments as the music starts, the actors seem stylized, abstract. The occasional use of loud rock music, like the psychedelic light show which indicates Constance's fall into the play, is unnecessary, but it is never a serious flaw.
It is impossible, then, to recommend that one stay away from Good night Desdemona; there is too much good acting to be missed. At the same time, the idiocy of the play is grating, and at two and a half hours, it is distinctly too long. The only thing to do, perhaps, is to see the play, savor the bits of real Shakespeare, and dream of greater things to come.