OCT 6:  It’s a cool, calm evening in downtown Peterborough and at the popular community cafe Cork + Bean, students in cozy sweaters sip red wine and spiced tea. I’d almost be tempted to call it a nice night, were it not for the massive cloud of rancid smoke that’s drifted in from the dumpster fire south of us.

Just for tonight, we’ll try to set aside whatever catastrophic geopolitical upheavals may or may not be happening elsewhere and instead come together to revel in appreciation for the one and only Bard, William Shakespeare (whose work never ever, ever involves politics, divisive social issues, gender-based oppression, the rise and fall of tyrannical governments, etc etc etc). You’ve read the headline, you know what I’m talking about, it’s the 21st annual Fall Shakespeare Pub Night!

Dr. Andrew Loeb, English professor and one half of the Pub Night administrative team, arrives early with an armful of small musical instruments, including a mandolin and what looks to be a Fisher-Price melodica. His counterpart, Dr. Stephen Brown, shows up fashionably late, fully decked-out in drag, and inexplicably speaking in a heavy Scottish brogue.

Before the festivities begin, Loeb distributes sheets of Shakespearean insults, in case attendees feel the need to eloquently disparage one another at any point of the night.  Leading by example, he kicks the night off by calling Brown a “trunk of humours” and a “bolting-hutch of beastliness,” quoting Henry IV.

The first performance of the night is a real crowd-pleaser, introduced as a rendition of the famous balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, with a focus on the play’s subtle, highly subtextual use of sexual innuendo. Fast forward a few minutes and a student is standing on a table with a flashlight between his legs, several audience members are swinging apples around, and just offstage Mercutio is using a giant crucifix to perform unspeakable acts on a nun-outfitted Juliet. Adding much-needed class and sophistication to the atmosphere, Brown weaves through the audience armed with jibes and banter that might be unwise to reprint, quite literally acting the fool in the classical sense. 

At the intermission, Loeb comments on the inherent crassness of the subject material, musing to the crowd, “When people ask what I do for a living, I tell them that I explain early-modern dick jokes to twenty-somethings.”

After the break, we’re treated to a series of student-led performances of various readings and soliloquies, including Richard III’s imprisoned descent into madness, Macbeth’s pre-regicidal self-pep talk, and an American Psycho-ized version of a romantic scene from Twelfth Night. Not to be outdone by older, significantly balder opening actors, these performers are passionate and witty, not to mention very brave for getting up in front of an audience so primed for ridicule.

Later on, Brown introduces the evening’s finale as a “donkey show” (ask your parents, kids), before he and Loeb deliver a very physical and explicit performance of Bottom and Titania’s tryst from A Midsummer Night's Dream. The scene’s climax sees Brown straddling Loeb to a din of raucous laughter, wolf whistles, and just a tiny bit of cultish chanting. Good times are had by all, and Brown sagely offers the wisdom, “all queens are fairies, and all fairies are queens.”

Finally, the duo close off the night with some emotional closing remarks, heaping gratitude on supportive students and the staff at Cork + Bean for tirelessly delivering countless platters of red wine throughout the evening. Brown—in a rare show of genuine vulnerability—tearfully thanks Loeb for being his “dancing partner” in the final years of his career as an educator, and delivers an impassioned speech urging students to take risks and push back against anyone who attempts to overregulate the undergraduate experience with red tape and paperwork.  

Afterwards, I manage to pull Loeb away from a gaggle of fans (Brown’s throng proves more impenetrable) to answer some questions about the event:

LA: You’re Andrew Loeb!

AL: I am.

LA: How exactly did you get roped into humiliating yourself like this every year? Do you owe Stephen a lot of money or something? Blink twice if you need help.

AL: When I started at Trent and took over some Shakespeare courses, Stephen and I began co-teaching one called Shakespeare in the Classroom & Stage, which is very performance-focused. The two of us were constantly having conversations about how Shakespeare works, and we found a shared appreciation for the naughtier, sillier side of things, so these nights are really about trying to emphasize that. We want students to feel they can be playful and irreverent in order to release themselves from the “I must have a smart thesis statement about this” mindset.

LA: Do kids these days even like Shakespeare?

AL: The ones who like it really like it. We run Shakespeare courses every semester, and there’s always at least 30 - 40 students enrolled. Nobody’s required to take Shakespeare here at Trent, so that kind of voluntary engagement shows a lot of love, either for the material or for the teaching style. We have different ways of getting people to appreciate it, mostly by thinking of it in terms of theater instead of as text, which tends to be how this stuff usually gets taught before university. 

LA: What are your plans for the future of Shakespeare Pub Night?

AL: We typically run two events per year, one in the fall and another in the winter. Recently we’ve been working with the Anne Shirley Company to put on something called Shakespeare Cabaret Night, and that’s a bit more of a formal and technical affair, where groups sign up and develop a scene together. If that doesn’t work out this year, we’re going to do a February Pub Night with more of a Valentine’s Day theme, so lots of love poems, sonnets, and things like that.

LA: One more question: which of Shakespeare’s Fools would you share a drink with?

AL: Feste, from Twelfth Night. He’s a smart guy, really perceptive, and I feel he’d have great taste in beer.