The Rivals

Sheridan’s 1775 comedy of manners combines linguistic tomfoolery of the highest order with a gimlet-eyed view of human relations. Perhaps best known for its introduction of Mrs. Malaprop (Richards) and her “nice derangement of epitaphs,” the play charts the troubled course of twin love affairs, each threatening to run aground on the shoals of skepticism and self-regard. “For heaven’s sake, Faulkland, don’t expose yourself so,” the dashing young Captain Absolute (Chrzanowski) admonishes his pathetically self-dramatizing friend. Sheridan’s characters adopt myriad stratagems of disguise and dissembling, even as their outsize passions overwhelm them into disclosing themselves at the most inopportune times. Absolute himself manages the tricky feat of becoming his own rival for the affections of Lydia Languish (Abigail Trabue), courting her simultaneously as himself and as the mysterious Ensign Beverly.

Though the raffishly knowing tone of The Rivals seems utterly contemporary, Polarity’s production appears not entirely to trust the play’s relevance. Director Sturm’s salted it with jarring anachronisms—iPods and Manolo Blahniks abound—and added an awkward frame story in which a real-live Chicagoan learns that Restoration isn’t just a furniture store. These bells and whistles distract from an otherwise whip-smart production. Chrzanowski is dashingly charismatic as the frantically plotting Absolute, while Engling as his choleric father repeatedly works himself into a fine frenzy. And Richards balances the ridiculous spectacle of Malaprop with hints of the vulnerable human being beneath. Like the wayward lovers it depicts, Polarity’s production might have done with a bit less anxious display and a bit more faith in the audience.

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