In Joss Whedon’s adaptation of
Shakespeare’s Comedy, Much Ado About
Nothing, there’s a moment, an exquisite meeting of the Renaissance and the now,
that epitomises the success of Whedon’s collaboration with The Bard: during one
of Benedick and Beatrice’s ‘skirmish[es] of wit’, immediately after the former
discovers the latter’s (supposed) love for him, Benedick employs himself in a
series of stretches to emphasise his masculinity. It’s a scene of hilarious
slapstick not implied in the original text yet perfectly in keeping with the
comic tone of the play, a synthesis of Whedonesque silliness and
Shakespearean wit.
The concept of artistic
unionisation, and moreover historical transcendence, is applicable for the rest
of the film. This is still purely Shakespeare’s work; Whedon leaves the dialogue
untouched, the Tudorian rhetoric referring to battles, duels and princes remaining
intact. Most settings (Whedon’s mansion is used for the majority of scenes) and
props are distinctly unmodern; cars and mobile phones are present but never
feel intrusively contemporary. It’s a determinably timeless lovestory-the pioneer
romantic comedy-its humour and romance as relevant in suits and summer dresses
as doublets and ball-gowns.
However, an injection of
originality to elicit intrigue in a particularly niche audience is still
required, to stand out amongst the mediocrity abundant in Shakespeare
adaptations. This was never going to be a problem with the enigmatic writer/director.
Much Ado inevitably displays Whedonesque blemishes.
Alongside the introduction of more physical comedy, Whedon utilises reflective
surfaces and windows in his cinematography to highlight the comic confusion vital
to the progression of the play. By shooting his actors using translucent objects
as secondary frames Whedon suggests the possibility of character-motivation
ambiguity; in an interview about Much Ado
he states that the text is fundamentally about ‘perception and misperception’.
It’s beautifully shot, the
exteriors look gorgeously natural and the interiors squeakily clean, it’s
almost Kubrickian, this theory corroborated by some fantastic symmetrical
shots. Whedon alternates from sporadic cuts during four-way conversations to
epic, sometimes claustrophobic, tracking shots during soliloquies. Although the
black-and-white camerawork will predictably put some off as being too ‘artsy’, it
complements the low-key quaintness of Whedon’s vision. The film is obviously understated;
it barely leaves Whedon’s, admittedly glamorous, mansion, and save for a delectably
executed garden party, the on-screen cast rarely rises into double figures. It’s
self-knowingly small; it doesn’t aspire to be anything grand, but then again
this isn’t a dramatic Shakespearean History or Tragedy, perhaps it shouldn’t
aim for grandeur. It certainly works in its favour, keeping the attention on
the most important component of the play; the quintessentially love-hate relationship
of Beatrice and Benedick, and the almost-never-happened love of Claudio and
Hero.
Much Ado About Nothing is magnificently acted. Denisof is flawless
in the role of Benedick, capable of veering from charming womaniser to puerile
romantic on a whim. Acker is equally strong as Beatrice, ferociously feminist, venomously
witty but also heart-breakingly vulnerable. Franz Kranz and Jillian
Morgese are effective as Claudio and Hero, but, while likeable, aren’t as captivating
as Denisof and Acker, although this is mostly down to the dialogue. The
supporting cast perform brilliantly. Gregg and Diamond are excellent as Leonato
and Don Pedro, the older instigators of the love affairs, while Nathan Fillion,
as he so often does, nearly steals the show in his hysterical portrayal of
Dogberry. It was about as clever a piece of casting as you’re likely to see
from Whedon.
Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing is the best version of the play I’ve seen,
and one of the finest Shakespeare film adaptations. It’s very funny, adorably
romantic and visually stunning. One of the best films of the year so far.
Whedon has announced his intention
to adapt another Shakespeare. I would love to see him tackle a more dramatic
play with his entourage. Clark Gregg as Henry V? Amy Acker as Ophelia? Who
knows. But I absolutely, positively cannot wait.
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