Three plucky young actors don suits a la Reservoir Dogs and vernaculars a la the Immortal Bard, to regale a wanting assemblage of spectators with a twisted tale of intrigue and scandal.  Directed by Greg Cooper, the Court Jesters of Christchurch – Daniel Bain, Brendon Bennetts and Javier Jarquin – skilfully weave a convoluted pastiche of bluster, fury and ingenious improvised comedy. 

The production values are high, not least the AV projected opening credits, filmed around Christchurch with the cast striking cinematic gangster poses all over the show to the inimitable Reservoir Dogs theme: the George Baker Selection’s Little Green Bag.  It’s a charming touch that this same tune played on a harpsichord serves as a scene-linking sting throughout the show. 

Clearly there is some solid structure in the staging and development of the random elements of the piece.  At the outset we, the audience are called upon to nominate what will become the elements of the ensuing epic Shakespearean heist thriller.  On this night we had a science teacher, a love/vendetta theme inspired by Romeo and Juliet, the philosophical question ‘is there a god?’, and a diary. 

The latter is the MacGuffin of the story, the glowing treasure in the briefcase a la Pulp Fiction.  All the objects and devices are brought, remarkably convincingly, together through excellent characterisations and shrewd plot-rigging. My personal favourite moment was the anguished preacher being visited by God, who himself asks his hapless subject whether he (God) exists…

Some of the names concocted on the spot add comedic authenticity to the whole palaver – Delinquentio, the wayward schoolboy, Beardio the bearded nun, GI Joe-o the disillusioned war-hero and so on.  And I suspect they may frequently throughout the season find excuses for the off-stage Shakespearean sex noises:  ‘Ooh!’ ‘Ah!’ ‘Prithee!’, etc.

One thing the whole experience puts in my mind as how not all that different Shakespeare is from Tarantino, with all their stakes and dilemmas and violent retributions.  Of course, it’s not hard to throw George Lucas in with that, and the contrived surprise twist at the end had a somewhat Agatha Christie feel to it. 

The most disappointing aspect of the show is the size of the audience, totalling thirteen on opening night.  Perhaps it’s more intellectual than your average improv show, and maybe the Shakespeare/ Tarantino/ Star Wars/ 80s kids TV show and related toy franchises market has its limits but with no more than purely basic knowledge of any of these topics there’ll be something for here for you. 

Plus I defy anyone not to chuckle semi-sadistically whenever a player causes his colleague to corpse.  There should be a name for this sport-like form of theatre…
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Rumbustious stuff this and as well polished as improvised plot- scrambling can ever be. The Jesters frame their inventiveness in a cheeky Tarantino/Shakespeare combination, to the delight of improv devotees and doubtless some new enthusiasts.

For it is hard to resist the sheer frolic of three intrepid actors, each prepared to create or follow up a challenge, working at shaping the given cues into something approaching a plot – well, three interwoven ones. There is no such luxury as re-working in this business.

The audience has itself to blame if the way forward is convoluted. Invited to establish some ‘givens’ for dramatic realisation, audience members nominate a dentist, Hamlet, the play within a play device, a pencil and finally, the deep question, ‘Why is the sky blue?’ It was always going to take a daring approach to resolve these components. The Gangster and the Bard offer cover for every possible situation and many one would have thought impossible into the bargain.

Some especial triumphs of the performance, presumably worked into whatever specific scenarios the audience of day dictates, are the slick combat routines, where timing and precision translate clever choreography into high entertainment. Vocally too, the speech rhythm associated with Shakespearean verse is sustained with brave gusto. Scenes even manage to end with a rhyming couplet – the more contrived the better as far as the audience is concerned.

The   relaxed confidence of the team is well supported technically and in the playing space designed by Julian Southgate as a murky basement, allowing for above ground effects to be suggested through the single window, as well as dramatic entrances via the steps themselves.

The intrepid trio of Daniel Bain, Brendon Bennetts and Javier Jarquin strikes a nice balance between advancing the impossible plot lines and embroidering their various characters and relationships. Greg Cooper’s direction, in developing framework and strategies, is similarly sound. The result is a clever, zany evening of  light- hearted mirth. A goodly chuckle indeed. 

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