The Shoemaker's Holiday

Among the second-rank late-Elizabethan dramatists was a triumvirate of Thomases--Dekker, Heywood, and Middleton--all of whom expressed a rare deep sympathy with the common man. Of the three Dekker was the most gifted; and Wellesley's Group 20 has wisely chosen for this week's offering his 357-year-old comic masterpiece, The Shoemaker's Holiday (based on a story by another Thomas--Deloney).

Dekker was an unsurpassedly keen observer of contemporary London life, if not a peeping Tom; and he gave us here a vivid picture of the artisan and aristocratic milieus. The finest social comedy of its age, Holiday has special appeal for us today: it presents pre-echos of the Horatio Alger story, champions the ideals of democracy (even the King proclaims that "love respects no blood, cares not for difference of birth or state"), and contains the first labor sit down strike in drama.

There is no doubting Thomas's skill. No profound intellectual, Dekker still possessed consummate wit, and produced a busty, gusty, lusty farce of great warmth and vigor. Teeming with bawdy doubles ententes, it makes Measure for Measure read like Sunday sermon. And when Dekker doesn't call a spade a spade, he calls it a steamshovel.

Director Jack Landau has crammed the production full of some of the most side-splitting stage business I have seen in a long while. He is wonderfully abetted by William Roberts' hilarious costumes and ingenious sets. Even the inexpert wielding of the six portable houses on opening night contributed some unintentional farce that it would be almost a shame to refine.

The whole cast enters with gusto into the spirit of the piece and seems to have a whale of a good time gamboling through the romp and missing none of its facetious facets. Jerome Kilty is superb in the title role of the earthy master of "the gentle craft" who eventually becomes Lord Mayor of London. It is one of those rich character parts that Kilty has made his specialty. The role further contains what is perhaps the largest repertory of oaths and insults ever assembled (mostly hurled at the cobbler's poor wife); Kilty manages to make them sound like the foulest words in the language (in fact some of them are).

The female roles are somewhat colorless, but this is the playwright's fault. The supporting male cast, however, is first-rate, especially Thomas Carlin, who gives an impersonation of a Dutchman that would make Danny Kaye proud. My only reservation is Jerry Stiller as Firk the apprentice; his performance, though funny in itself, is stylistically incongruous with the speech and manner of all the other actors.

The overall effect of this production is a sheer joy. Should any one tell you otherwise, just reply, "Pishery-pashery! Go snick up, you gibble-gabbling trullibubs!" and hie to Wellesley on a Schulmacher's holiday for this triple-Dekker treat.