The premise of Loves Labour’s Lost may be summed up in a Latin proverb that dates back to ancient Rome’s Augustan era; “Quae negata grata”: what is denied is desired.

Shakespeare exploits the truism thus:
The King of Navarre* gets his attendant Lords to join him in renouncing the pleasures of women, sleep and food to focus on study and self-improvement, with only the Spanish Braggart Don Adriano de Armado on hand to amuse them. But the Princess of France arrives with her attendant Ladies on a pre-arranged ambassadorial visit (the King forgot she was coming). Their being ‘off-limits’ makes the women all the more attractive to the men. The Queen and her Ladies add mischief to the mix …

Being very much a testosterone versus oestrogen comedy, it seems odd at first blush that director Ania Upstill has opted for cross-dressed casting. But given the play is as wordy as its plot is thin and comparatively trite, it does add another level of interest. Clearly the cast – who thankfully avoid any temptation to play for cheap laughs with the device – get value out of experiencing events from the ‘other side’ and to some extent the audience is able to reflect on that empathetically.

Also, while it is common in student and post-grad productions (cf: The Bacchanals) to cast women in male roles, the consistency of this reversal allows the casting to better reflect the available pool of talent. A cast of 18, then, which is normally 13m/5f, has become 6m/12f (because the schoolmaster Holferness has become a schoolmistress, played by a male).  

The entire play is set in The King of Navarre’s park so is mostly played in the traverse on the Dell’s lawn, with the wooden stage used to signify the increasingly forgotten academic pursuits that are supposed to be happening inside. Lou Mustaers-Hoyte’s set design suggests closed up books that open out and a tent for the women that opens out and closes up like a flower.

Despite the 11^th century setting and 21^st century production, Amelia Taverner’s the costume designs reference Elizabethan/Jacobean styles for the men while the ladies would be at home at an Edwardian ball. They serve our understanding of the characters well, however.

All of the ensemble cast embrace their roles with intelligent understanding and a suitably light touch. A few stand out, none more so than Hilary Penwarden as the clown character Costard, would-be swain of Jaquenetta the dairymaid (Devon Nuku), with whom Don Armado (Minnie Grace)is also besotted. Unable to read, despite his love of long words (“remuneration!”), it is Costard who mixes up the Don’s letter to Jaquenetta with Berowne’s letter to Rosaline which is how the comedy contrives to play out over five acts.

Camilia Hayek’s dapper French Lord, Boyet, is also a delight. Ameeshar-Rose Kipa has amusing moments as Moth, Armado’s page. And Lydia Verschaffelt’s highly expressive Longaville must be commented for nailing how to include the whole audience while playing an aside to an audience in the traverse.

As the French ladies, Jordan Schmidt (the Princess), Keegan Fitzgibbon (Katherine), Donald James (Maria) and Hamish Boyle (Rosaline) are fascinatingly feminine but on reflection, while they convey the text well enough, I can’t help wondering how much richer and distinctive they’d have been if played by women.

As the lovelorn Navarreans, India Loveday (King Ferdinand), Morgan Collins (Dumaine), Lydia Verschaffelt (Longaville) and Sarah Burton (Berowne) are less convincing as men but they mine richer veins of character distinction as they interpret the text. As someone says in our group, its more about genres of humanity than genders.

The moment when the Princess of France receives news that her father the King has died needs to offer a more profound reality-check than we get from this production. It’s a chance to see past the shenanigans to a greater depth of humanity.

Loves Labour’s Lost (1594-5) is neither as comedic as The Comedy of Errors (1592-3) or insightful as Much Ado About Nothing (1598-9) but it makes for a pleasant evening along with a picnic in the evening air. 

*(The Kingdom of Navarre, on Spain’s Northern border, was at its height in the early 11^th century. PlayShakespeare.com suggests Shakespeare’s sources date back to the 15^th century.) 

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