3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, for sensuality, subtle sexual candor and fleeting drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.21.13
Fred and Wesley finally got back
together, which is pretty cool.
And while the circumstances are
rather unusual, they’re no less delightful.
Most filmmakers, after completing
principal photography on a massive, gazillion-dollar project, unwind prior to
the next step — assembling the director’s cut — by taking calm vacations ... anything but film-related.
Joss Whedon isn’t most people.
Prior to putting the finishing touches on The Avengers — last year’s wildly
successful superhero summit meeting — he filled the in-between time by staging
an intimate, micro-budget movie at his own Los Angeles home. And, as genre
geeks know, when Whedon mounts such a project, he always engages the close
friends who’ve become one of Hollywood’s most loyal repertoire companies.
In this case, a 12-day shoot (!)
yielded one of the most unusual interpretations of Shakespeare’s Much Ado
About Nothing ever to hit cinema screens. Lensed in glorious, mood-enhancing
black-and-white by cinematographer Jay Hunter, this modern-dress staging
nonetheless employs the Bard’s original dialogue — condensed and occasionally
tweaked by Whedon — and features faces well-recognized from his various
television projects.
Yes, kids; that means Buffy the
Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly and Dollhouse.
Thus, my somewhat cryptic opening
sentence can be explained by the casting of Alexis Denisof and Amy Acker —
Wesley Wyndam-Price and Winifred “Fred” Burke, respectively, on Angel — as
Benedick and Beatrice.
Lest you roll eyebrows over the
reflexive accusation that Whedon has unleashed a self-indulgent vanity
production, well, yes, that’s certainly true. But who can complain, when the
results are this entertaining?
To be sure, the initial
disconnect is jarring. The setting, clothing and technology clearly are 21st
century, which is at odds with the flowery Shakespearean dialogue. The acting style
throughout is a bit ostentatious and overly mannered, the performers
occasionally mugging for the camera the way a stage actor would pause for a
laugh from the audience.
But that “settling in” period can
be true of any Shakespeare production, even those that are rigorously
authentic. Fifteen or 20 minutes into this film, everything starts to look and
sound natural, at which point you’ll simply enjoy the richly contrived romantic
entanglements present in one of Shakespeare’s most appealing comedies.
The core plot is fairly simple: Leonato
(Clark Gregg), governor of Messina, plays host to his good friend Don Pedro
(Reed Diamond), who has just quashed a rebellion by his villainous brother, Don
John (Sean Maher). Although the latter and his two accomplices — Borachio
(Spencer Treat Clark) and Conrade (Riki Lindhome) — arrive in handcuffs,
they’re allowed freedom of movement during this visit, as a gesture of
kindness. (Big mistake!)
Don Pedro is accompanied by two faithful
officers: Benedick and the younger, somewhat impetuous Claudio (Fran Kranz).
The latter immediately falls head-over-heels in love with Leonato’s daughter,
Hero (Jillian Morgese), and she with him.
Benedick, in turn, has something
of an on-again/off-again relationship with Leonato’s niece, Beatrice. They spar
verbally in the rich, earthy and often scaldingly pointed manner of “estranged”
Shakespearean lovers in numerous plays. T’would be gross understatement to
mention that Denisof and Acker thoroughly enjoy hacking at each other, particularly
as the exchanges become more deliciously nasty.
Leonato, Don Pedro, Claudio and
Hero concoct a plan to cut past this nonsense and get Benedick and Beatrice to
acknowledge their mutual fondness.
But this would mean two happy
couples, which is far more than the evil Don John can tolerate. He therefore
engages his own sinister scheme to sever both relationships, and if the
residual fallout should destroy his brother’s reputation ... well, so much the
better.
In other words, business as usual
for Shakespeare: duplicitous villains, concealed identities, misleading
intentions and additional folderol that could be put right with one or two direct
conversations. But where’s the fun in that?
Production designers Cindy Chao
and Michele Yu make excellent use of the spacious outdoor and indoor settings,
and Whedon also draws additional chuckles from the incongruities of modern
behavior. As one example, Denisof rambles through one of Benedick’s tormented
soliloquies — questioning his possible responses to Beatrice’s behavior — while
jogging up and down the concrete stairs that lead up to the estate swimming
pool (an intriguing visual in its own right).
The most fun, however, comes when
first Benedick and then Beatrice, in turn, are tricked into believing that they’re
“accidentally” overhearing telling conversations by Leonato, Don Pedro, Claudio
and Hero. Denisof’s attempt to conceal himself in the back yard, moving from
one window to the next, is simply priceless; Acker’s body-bruising effort to
hide within the kitchen is equally hilarious.
On a more serious level, the
degree to which we’ve bought into the story — no matter how grandiloquent the
speech and mannerisms — can be measured by our reaction to the moment when, as
Hero is betrayed in the worst possible way for a woman, her own father shuns
her. Gregg, until now a genial host and doting parent, transforms into a beast
whose fury is shocking; we feel his wrath like a physical blow.
Thankfully, even such dire
moments are offset by lighter fare. Nathan Fillion supplies pure comic relief
as the bumbling, word-mangling Dogberry, a total idiot police officer who
stumbles into this case entirely by accident, and then fails to grasp the
significance of the evidence he helps uncover. (Dogberry is too agitated over
having been called an ass by the contemptuous Conrade.)
Fillion and Tom Lenk, playing
Dogberry’s partner Verges, also have plenty of fun lampooning modern TV cop
show clichés, down to the unnecessary sunglasses.
Although the story is propelled
by romantic intrigue and clandestine double-cross, Whedon doesn’t overlook the lusty
undertone that permeates many Shakespeare plays, which can range from subtly
earthy to flat-out bawdy. An early celebratory party at Leonato’s estate —
before Don John’s vile machinations take hold — is one such example.
The tone is set by a pair of scantily dressed Cirque de Soleil-style acrobats who cavort on a trapeze near the pool, but the
entire company sways with the intoxicating application of free-flowing alcohol
and sexual tension. Couples begin to shed clothes and vanish off-camera, just
quickly enough to preserve this film’s PG-13 rating ... and then there’s the
lusty maid, Margaret (Ashley Johnson), who seems willing to drop her knickers
for just about any good-looking bloke.
Denisof and Acker get most of the
best lines — and plot contrivances — and therefore wind up with more screen
time during which to strut their stuff. But much of the cast is equally
memorable, no matter what size the role. Morgese is appropriately winsome and
delicate as the fair Hero, which is essential if we’re to believe her reaction
to the foul accusation from those she has trusted. (We must remember that
Shakespearean women, no matter how spirited their tongues, can have their lives
ruined by unscrupulous men.)
Kranz is suitably earnest — and
just naïve enough — as the smitten Claudio. Kranz has a similarly powerful
moment when his character is enraged by a perceived betrayal: Again, the moment
is breathtaking for its unexpected intensity.
Maher narrows his gaze quite
convincingly as the vile Don John, who visibly revels in his own malevolence: a
guy who loves being wicked for its own sake. (And he was such a nice guy on
TV’s Firefly. Go figure.)
On the other hand, Diamond remains
a bit bland as Don Pedro, while both Clark and Lindhome are under-developed as
Borachio and Conrade. Lindhome’s casting actually is intriguing; some recent productions
of this play have staged Conrad (no “e”) as Don John’s male lover, and Whedon drops
more than one suggestion here that — despite being played by an attractive young
woman — this film’s Conrade actually is a man.
Assuming I’ve read that
correctly, it’s an amusing nod toward the fact that, during Shakespeare’s time,
female roles were played by effeminate men.
My overall pleasure
notwithstanding, I suspect this film will be embraced solely by Shakespeare
buffs and Whedon’s devoted fan base. I can’t imagine mainstream audiences
getting on board, particularly during summer’s bombastic silly season. Indeed,
quite a few folks departed midway through Monday evening’s Sacramento preview.
(Their loss.)
OK, so maybe Whedon did make a
film mostly for himself and his friends. It could be argued, though, that this is
the first rule of art: Satisfy yourself, and hope the rest of the world catches
on. This Much Ado may be an odd Shakespearean duck, but I’ll happily watch it
again: always my most essential movie criteria.
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