Much Ado About Nothing review.
Shakespearean dialogue may baffle digital generation
I guess an entire generation of filmmakers watched Woody Allen’s Manhattan with a malleable mind and figured shooting black and white automatically makes you artsy.
Noah Baumbach did it with his most recent film, Frances Ha, and now the man behind Buffy’s vampire slaying Joss Whedon, is looking to get some with his doublebarrelled dose of highbrow in Much Ado About Nothing — a small, intimate, blackand-white art film that updates Shakespeare’s candyfloss comedy about love, loyalty and the clucking cock of ego.
It’s a bit of a 180 for the director most closely associated with The Avengers and his cult TV hits Buffy and the scifi series Firefly, but not really. Whedon may subscribe to the comic-book universe, but he always brings an epic, literary edge to the content, no matter how banal or boyish it may be.
That said, Shakespeare isn’t such a huge stretch for the pop culture expert because the Bard, in his day, was a lot like Whedon is now: a populist entertainer who understands how to construct major dramatic themes in a way that reaches the masses — or at least tries to.
Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing is a valiant effort to resuscitate the sagging treasure chest of Shakespeare’s oeuvre by giving iambic pentameter back its breath, but his loyalty to language may prove the film’s biggest stumbling block because as beautiful as it is, it’s practically a foreign tongue to the digital generation weaned on abbreviation.
“You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it: he is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach,” says Beatrice (Amy Acker), showing off her wit in the first scene as she describes Benedick (Alexis Denisof).
She’s calling the bachelor lord a player, a man stuffed by his own stuffing, a man who consumes his victims on the battlefield of love.
She says she hates his arrogance and strut, but the chemistry between them is undeniable — setting twin engines of romance in motion.
On one side, we have the sparring Beatrice and Benedick.
On the other, we have Hero (Jillian Morgese) and Claudio (Fran Kranz), two beautiful young lovers destined to tie the knot until a bitter and ambitious interloper comes between them.
Because it’s a comedy, we know things will probably turn out for the best by the final curtain.
But we also have to feel the tingle of suspense, as well as the tickle of recognition to get the full impact and a great chunk of that comes through the actual dialogue.
Every single syllable in the play was polished to comic brilliance using the friction of sexual double entendres and fangs-out sarcasm, but most of it probably won’t register — which means the full brunt of the play’s hilarity will be lost without translation.
Fortunately, the actors make up a great deal of the linguistic gulf by offering fully engaged performances for the camera.
Whether it’s the ubiquitous-but-as-yet-unbranded Clark Gregg, a veteran character actor who’s been in blockbusters and bit parts, or the brave Canadian Nathan Fillion, who surrenders to his role as an idiot detective, the cast appears to be having a fabulous time immersing themselves in goofy text.
You can feel the happy vibe through the black and white frames bathed in natural light. Shot on location in Whedon’s own Los Angeles home, a sense of family pours off the screen as he assembles his favourite people for the occasion.
Even the audience may feel a connection to the ensemble because every one of them looks familiar — even if you don’t know their names.
They are the tireless working actors of L.A. who live modest lives below the radar because they love what they do.
And they’re good at it, as this movie makes undeniably clear.
Great actors love to act, and climbing into a Shakespearean role — whether it’s at Stratford or the local high school — is something genuine actors drool over because they’ve been trained for it, and because Shakespeare wrote most of the very best material known to English drama.
Even if it’s tongue-twisting and arcane, it’s a lot more fun to say “God keep that ladyship still in mind! so some gentleman or other shall ’scape a predestinate scratched face,” than to say, say, “bitch!”
Alas, it’s the latter that seems to litter the pages of most modern screenplays, which explains the palpable enthusiasm of each player, and infuses every single action with a light touch that fits the whole fluffy mood.
For fans of Shakespeare keen on seeing the Bard’s material in a modern context, Much Ado About Nothing is loyal and solid, but it doesn’t reinvent the play or even use the L.A. setting as a social filter.
Even in black and white, there is little contrast, no edge, no dagger of meaning, it’s just a bunch of great actors getting all dressed up and putting on a show for those seeking romantic solace, and an earful of old words with a hint of wisdom.