Much Ado About Nothing: A droll something

Much Ado About Nothing (2012) • View trailer 
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.

An eavesdropping Beatrice (Amy Acker, foreground) is astonished to overhear details
about how Benedick — elsewhere in the estate — has long adored her ... astonished
because it seems that she and Benedick do nothing but snipe at each other. Ah, but
Beatrice doesn't realize that Hero (Jillian Morgese, center) and the maid are fully aware
that they're being overheard, and are discussing "details" that have been exaggerated
for Beatrice's benefit.

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.