payment page
The Comedy of Errors is light, frothy entertainment, full of slapstick humor and improbable coincidence that unfolds within the course of a single day. There are hints of Shakespeare’s later forays into deeper character development, especially in the early laments of Antipholus of Syracuse for his missing twin, but the story remains largely on the surface. Characters are mistaken for one another, but they do not pretend to be other than what they are; there are no disguises here, only resemblances. The plot, so concerned with outward appearances, appropriately turns on the exchange of material objects—a Courtesan’s ring, a gold chain, and the thousand marks that Egeon needs to save his life. Virtually all interior life is absent, and the action is entirely physical.
Like many of Shakespeare’s more fully developed comedies as well as some of his later romances, this play is framed by tragic circumstances. The story begins with the threat of execution for Egeon, who is sentenced to death for nothing more than being a Syracusan in Ephesus—a crime that reflects the hostility of the relationship between these two city-states. Also tragic are the circumstances that have brought Egeon to Ephesus in the first place, as he seeks his son, who in turn is searching for his long-lost mother and twin brother. Aside from the story of this broken family, the play is filled with other unsettling subjects. There’s a troubled marriage, bondage, grief and anger, frequent violence, and hovering over all the action is the looming threat of Egeon’s beheading, which is scheduled for the end of the day. But importantly, the play is not about these issues—it touches them briefly before skating on to happier, funnier subjects. If the audience experiences any genuine moments of unease, these moments are brief and quickly give way to laughter.
And indeed, because this play is a comedy, everything that threatens the laughter is eliminated at the end. Most importantly, the confusion caused by the various “errors” of misidentification is finally explained and resolved. All the darker, more unpleasant issues are resolved, as well. For instance, there’s Duke Solinus, who begins the play as a figure of unbending, almost tyrannical legalism, but ends as a forgiving father figure. Likewise, the marriage of Antipholus of Ephesus and Adriana is threatened by mutual jealousy, but once their misapprehensions have been cleared up, their reconciliation follows quickly. Then there is the tragic separation of Egeon’s family, which has been estranged for more than twenty years. The play ends with their recognition and reunion, and wife and husband fall into one another’s arms as if time and distance had not intervened between them. Even the poor, abused bondsmen, the Dromios, quickly forget their beatings and bruises and embrace. The ease with which these problems are overcome points to the central theme of the play: love and felicity will triumph over all.
