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Much Ado About Nothing (1993) directed by and starring Kenneth Branagh

buy DVD from Amazon

buy DVD from Amazon© 2004 John Murphy

Much Ado About Nothing was a minor sensation upon its release in 1993. By that time, Kenneth Branagh had come to be regarded as a cinematic Wunderkind, gene-splicing Orson Welles and Laurence Olivier. Flush from the success of heavy-hitters like Henry V and Dead Again, the tireless auteur released this sunny show, appropriately enough, in the spring of 1993 and scored another deserved mini-smash. Thankfully, jealous Time and Branagh’s subsequent slip-ups have not dulled its sheen. The movie is a joyous, energetic romp; a happy reminder of Branagh’s unique talent for making a four-hundred year old text seem funnier and more relevant than the latest insipid sitcom or humorless Pauly Shore flick.

Beatrice and Benedick's Merry WarThe great thing about Branagh is that he is aiming at the same audience who’d enjoy an episode of Friends or the comic misadventures of Bill & Ted. His version of Shakespeare is for everyone, not dusty academics or film snobs. To this end, he rounds out Shakespeare’s script with imaginative bits of physical comedy and some inspired casting. The action clips along nicely, breezing through Shakespeare’s Wodehousian comedy of errors with a welcome sparkle. Drama depends on mistaken identity, double-crosses, and Shakespeare can’t help but throw in a near-tragedy twist on the broad plot, but things arrange themselves neatly by the end, and all get their just desserts.

Keanu Reeves as villainous Don JohnOkay, so Branagh’s stunt casting isn’t an across-the-board success. Keanu Reeves as a villainous bastard (in both the old and new sense) shows some limitation with the language, but fortunately for us he’s “Not of many words” and does look good grimacing while sporting a “Hello, I’m obviously the Bad Guy” black beard. Denzel Washington, another movie star not typically associated with a classical repertoire, acquits himself with grace and confidence as regal Don Pedro. Why hasn’t he done more Shakespeare since this movie?

Michael Keaton doing DogberryProbably the most divisive bit of casting is Michael Keaton as Dogberry, that beloved master of malapropisms. For some, he’s grating and over-the-top. I agree, but that’s why he’s hilarious. His performance seems inspired less by Shakespeare than by the Monty Python troupe, but when the issue is comedy, who’s complaining? Keaton’s Dogberry is an off-kilter lowbrow foil to the witty repartee of Benedick and Beatrice, and the result is some side-splittingly funny moments.

A truce in the Merry WarSpeaking of Benedick and Beatrice, played by Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson, respectively, they are the two main reasons to see this show. When they go toe-to-toe, the electricity between them could light up several city blocks. The verbal sparring in the scenes with B. and B. is classic: a merry war of wit in the vein of 1940s screwball comedies, but with better dialogue. Shakespeare’s humor is wise and witty, pithily summarizing topics as universal as Love, Pride, and the like, with a playful nudge & wink. Ken and Em deliver their lines with veterans’ ease and new-kid-on-the-block energy. What a joy to see them here, young and ravishing and perfectly matched. They have the potent chemistry of a timeless on-screen couple, making their initial disdain and eventual love look effortless. I don’t go in much for Hollywood gossip or behind-the-scenes drama, but I have to admit that I was truly saddened by their split as a couple. Whatever the reality, their professional relationship was one for the record books.

Ah, Italia!Oh well, at least we’ve got this movie for the time capsule. Here Branagh hits just the right tone. “Suit the action to the words, the words to the action,” as Hamlet puts it, and Branagh takes that advice to heart much more in this production than he did, ironically, in his wildly hit-and-miss Hamlet. The sumptuous Tuscan location, bronzed and beautiful cast, lush soundtrack, and sun-dappled cinematography create an atmosphere of bright good cheer well-befitting a story set in the Italian countryside during spring.

Much is owed to Kenneth Branagh for Shakespeare’s recrudescence in recent years. His distinctive energy as an actor and interpreter of the Bard breathed new life into the long dormant genre, and Much Ado About Nothing is a testament to both the Bard’s genius (as palpable in comedy as in tragedy) and Branagh’s contagious enthusiasm. And, more to the point, I love this movie because I knew a girl in high school whose movie list “Top Ten” included The Matrix, Memento, Titanic, Fight Club, and Office Space. Her favorite movie of all time? Much Ado About Nothing.

That’s saying something.

Here’s the gorgeous opening of the film:

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A Glance Back at OSF 2009

Equivocation, photo by Jenny Graham

Equivocation, photo by Jenny Graham

Notwithstanding the gorgeous production of Death and the King’s Horseman starring Derrick Lee Weeden, the hugely entertaining Music Man starring Michel Elich, the side-splittingly funny Servant of Two Masters, and a wonderfully inventive production of All’s Well That Ends Well that actually made me, at least for two hours, actually like that ornery problem play, when friends visiting Ashland asked me last summer which plays to take in at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, my answer was invariably, “see Equivocation first”. And this from a playgoer notorious, when limited by time or pecuniary considerations, for choosing yet another Othello production over some new play, however loud the general buzz.

And the general buzz for the world premiere production of Equivocation, written by Bill Cain and directed by OSF Artistic Director Bill Rauch, was very loud indeed.

With a cast of six playing an exhausting number of multiple parts, led by Anthony Heald as Shag (Shakespeare), it was a marvelous production that confirmed me in a growing suspicion that Bill Rauch has a nearly pitch-perfect theatrical sense. Productions need to be intelligent, to be sure, and Rauch is certainly that; but he’s also one of the too-few directors who understands that the worst sin in theatre, at least from the audience’s standpoint, is to be boring. Especially at live theatre prices. I’ve yet to see Rauch deliver a ho-hum show, and this one was edge-of-your-seat stuff.

My favorite moments in Equivocation: just about any of them with Jonathan Haugen as Robert Cecil — would I love to see him do a Richard III! Then there’s John Tuft’s “wee Jamie of Scotland”, and the riveting what-if concoctions featuring Gregory Linington as a Black Legend caricature of Fr. Henry Garnet-by-way-of-Macbeth. (“How now, you secret, black and midnight priest!) Delicious, that.

As for the play itself, Equivocation is intriguing and often brilliant, with sparkling, funny dialogue. It is flawed in my view, however, by the playwright’s attempt to shoehorn some gender-equality, by way of a subplot involving Shakespeare’s daughter Judith, into what is otherwise a rip-roaring guy-thriller about the Gunpowder Plot as it might have been staged by the Bard at the command of Robert Cecil. There was, moreover, one moment, in many ways the thematic “climax” of the show, which I’m afraid I simply could not buy, though I laughed anyway: the moment where Shag, wondering how the hell he can possibly tell the truth about the Gunpowder Plot without getting himself hung, drawn and quartered, , comes to Fr. Garnet in prison and begs him to teach him how to “tell the truth in difficult times”; i.e., how to “equivocate”.

Say, what? Since when did the Maestro need remedial assistance on talking out both sides of his mouth…on taking away with his right hand what he’s just given you with his left? (See the paragraph below beginning with, “As for the little produced Henry VIII…)

Anyway, flawed or no, I saw Equivocation three times, met several people who had seen it five times, and there’s been Pulitzer Prize buzz about it to boot, so who am I to quibble?

Besides, in the end Equivocation also re-launched my longstanding interest in the “Catholic Shakespeare” question, a subject which has been getting more and more scholarly attention of late. (Go here for an interview I did a few years back with Claire Asquith, who wrote a popular book on the subject, Shadowplay.)

But while we’re on the subject of the Catholic Thing and the Gunpowder Plot, in a canny bit of season scheduling, Macbeth and Henry VIII were also on the 2009 OSF roster. I wasn’t a huge fan of the Macbeth production, to be perfectly frank. A friend of mine opined that the Macbeths (Peter Macon & Robin Goodrin Nordli) seemed to be in a different production than the rest of the cast, and I personally preferred the half with Kevin Kenerly as Macduff and Rex Young as Banquo. I did, however, adore Macon’s breezy turn as the Duke in Much Ado About Nothing and Nordli’s over-the-top bawdy in Don Quixote, starring Armando Duran in one of his loveliest OSF roles.

As for the rarely staged Henry VIII, though a weak play by Shakepsearean standards, the OSF production was well worth seeing, particularly for the gorgeous costumes and primo performances by Vilma Silva as Katherine, Anthony Heald as Wolsey, and Michael Elich as the doomed Buckingham. The show also lended fascinating context to Equivocation, not only as historical background to the origin of the Protestant Reformation in England, but as a perfect example of Shakespeare’s own genius for “equivocation” — i.e., his neck-saving propensity for monarchical arse-kissing counterpointed by elusive and subversive double meanings…and the occasional politically incorrect zinger, such as the following exchange in Act II between the Chamberlain and Suffolk on the subject of the King’s marital melancholy:

CHAMBERLAIN:

It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife
Has crept too near his conscience.

SUFFOLK:

No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.

Ouch. English historian David Starkey, who is an atheist, by the way, put it this way:

The old high-Protestant English view, that Henry was operating out of high moral motives and had profound high moral scruples about his first marriage, is manifest nonsense. He decides to marry Anne first and then, afterwards, decides to develop moral scruples like a bad case of German measles.

To top it all off, our Bard makes Catholic Queen Katherine the heroine and martyr of the play — how he got by with that in James I’s England, it would be interesting to know.

A wonderful season. Can’t wait for February, 2010!

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