The Moving Company takes on a seldom-produced work by the Bard.

It's as if the Moving Company, a rump ensemble that grew out of the ashes of Theatre de la Jeune Lune, decided to put sundry ingredients into a blender, press start and hope for a smoothie. But their latest show, "Love's Labour's Lost," mostly just sits there.

The staging, by Dominique Serrand, often feels inert as the mashup pulls the show in disparate directions.

The play, which opened Friday at the Lab Theater in Minneapolis, has a poor production record to begin with. For nearly 200 years, "Love's Labour's Lost" wasn't staged much. There has been more interest in it in the past century or so. Citing its "florabundant" language, eminent critic Harold Bloom lists it as one of his favorite Shakespearean works. And Kenneth Branagh did a musical film adaptation of it in 2000 that performed poorly at the box office.

Scholars often point to the play's dense, somewhat obscure allusions as one of the reasons that it is so rarely mounted. But its unpopularity with producers may also have to do with its plot. "Love's Labour's Lost" climaxes not with giddy nuptials, as is often the case with the Bard's lighter works, but with the sudden news of a death. That turnabout makes it look like a comedy wrapped in a tragedy, or vice versa.

The action revolves around the camp of vanquished king Navarre (Hugh Kennedy). Having lost a war, he and his men have vowed to fast and study for three years, shunning the pleasures of the world, including the company of women. But their vows of chastity are challenged when the Princess of France (Jennifer Baldwin Peden) arrives with her courtiers to make peace.

Serrand and actors Steve Epp and Nathan Keepers have re-imagined the play as a comedic grab bag. They have changed up the plot, inserted lines from all of Shakespeare's other plays into this one and set it ... who knows where or when.

The individual elements are actually fine by themselves, but are odd together. Rather than creating a driving sense of momentum, the show, which has some lyrical moments, is often overtaken by confusion. (It also doesn't help that it looks like a cut-rate recycling of what people used to see at Jeune Lune.)

That's too bad because the acting company is strong. Keepers plays the page Moth as a frolicsome, Pee-wee Herman-esque rogue, complete with bicycle. Epp gives Don Adriano de Armado, Moth's master, a manic edge. The cast includes Heidi Bakke as illiterate country wench Jaquenetta, and Jim Lichtscheidl as courtier Berowne.

The design, also, actually is striking. Sheer fabrics and scrims are used to demarcate zones of play, whether a court or a camp. But if the actors sometimes get lost, it's not their fault. They are searching through a thicket of text and ideas for some light and clarity.

Rohan Preston • 612-673-4390