James Newcomb as Richard III, lying camped at Bosworth Field on the eve of battle, is visited in tormented sleep by a grim chorus of specters. When Ratcliff (Juan Rivera LeBron), comes to Richard saying, "My lord!" Newcomb wheels in terror, wild-eyed, crying, "Zounds! Who’s there?" and we shudder that for a frozen moment he thinks Ratcliff is a ghost come for him.

It’s a nice moment in an engaging production of "Richard III," directed by Libby Appel, that opened the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s season Friday night at the OSF’s Angus Bowmer Theatre. It encapsulates the sense of moral revulsion absent for much of the play.

"Richard III" is the climax of the eight histories that begin with "Richard II." Newcomb created his Richard for last year’s "Henry VI Parts Two and Three," and carried him over into his own drama.

Watching the play, one of the earliest in the canon, produces a curious double-mindedness. It is intensely theatrical yet mediocre at bottom, with little foreshadowing of the heights and depths to come in "Macbeth" and the rest. The characters, even Richard for the most part, are two-dimensional. A strong whiff of the medieval morality play clings to the thing.

But if "Richard III" verges on melodrama, its hero-villain is nonetheless an amazing creation, a fascinating marauder who gives us the sense he might at any moment tear lose from his moorings in the play and run amok among us.

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Newcomb’s Richard is remarkable. Fitted with arm canes and a hump, he wheels and skitters about Rachel Hauck’s stark set like some ravening insect monster.

But Newcomb also gives Richard a sense of humor. When King Edward is forcing warring royals to reconcile early on, and Richard remarks dryly, "A happy time of day" with an ironic grin, the line gets a big laugh. In fact, the first half of the production was often played for laughs, and earned more than any I can remember.

One of the biggest comes at Richard’s coronation. He enters to grand music, caning along, attendants holding the royal robe’s preposterous train — and takes an ugly fall. Stunned silence. He struggles up, gathers his murderous dignity, nods at the invisible music, and it resumes.

But there are laughs and there are laughs. With Hastings (Jonathan Haugen) facing execution, Queen Margaret (Robin Goodrin Nordli) laughs, and Nordli sounds like dead leaves rattling, or death.

Nordli’s Queen Margaret is the second remarkable creation in the production, a wraith-like presence of genuine creepiness.

Although this "Richard" often plays for laughs, they are laughs in a context. Richard not only exults in his evil, he takes us in on it. It’s as if Newcomb is winking at us.

And there is a foil for this overflowing abundance of humor. Each time we’re almost comfortable with Richard, the stage darkens and the lights form an illuminated aisle in the darkness and Richard’s mood shifts and he crabs toward us, showing the monster within.

Richard lacks Macbeth’s struggle against self-awareness. The exception is on the eve of the battle, when he tries to convince himself he loves himself.

Yet he is a fascinating psychological study. He is aroused by seduction and pours his energy into it, far more than into his various murders, which are often accomplished almost as afterthoughts. But once the seduction is accomplished, arousal gives way to indifference, even revulsion.

We see it early as Richard, excited by his own audacity, woos Lady Anne, whose husband he recently murdered.

"Was ever woman in this humor won?" he exults.

It’s an outrageous scene, and Laura Morache’s performance suggests it works because Anne may be an opportunist at heart. But with the wooing and winning accomplished, Anne fades from Richard’s radar.

A second big seduction involves a reversal, with Richard feigning reluctance as his shill, Buckingham (Michael Elich), presses the crown on him. The scene begins with Richard and two priests silhouetted in a procession designed to impress the rubes with Richard’s piety, a procession that’s pure Libby Appel. When Richard clears his throat, it’s the cue for his flunky- priests to disappear. Big laugh.

In a third, preposterous seduction scene Richard presses Queen Elizabeth (Suzanne Irving), who sees through him, for her daughter’s hand. It’s an index to his slipping powers that he abandons honeyed words for steel as he flares up and traps her in his insect crutches. His decline gathers momentum from that moment.

The final battle is a hoot, with Richard fitted with battle canes in a kung fu-like donnybrook that rushes to its inevitable end.

For those who want a message, Richard comes up short, although there are certainly two. One, those who live by the sword, die by the sword. Two, chaos leads to tyranny. The idea that the cure for England’s long chaos is the Tudor dynasty is shameless, but one you didn’t want to argue with in the 1590s. The union of the red and white roses are blood and spirit.

"Richard III" runs about three hours, in period costumes. It plays through Oct. 30.

Reach reporter Bill Varble at 776-4478 or e-mail bvarble@mailtribune.com