Unlike many in the geek world, my appreciation for Joss Whedon didn’t come from his hit television shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel. Frankly, I was originally quite dismissive of the silliness I saw in the shows and it wasn’t until halfway through their runs that I finally gave them a chance as anything more than light viewing, eventually learning to appreciate what Whedon was doing on a metaphorical level and his deft skill with dialog. No, what originally fascinated me about Joss Whedon came in an article about the showrunner, where it was revealed that he would occasionally invite his cast members over to his home where they would partake in sampling wine and read Shakespearean plays. That idea, as a literary lover, as a community theatre director, and as a lifetime fan of Shakespeare’s works, completely won me over and made me wish I could do the same with my own friends (something, sadly, I’ve never managed to do). It was only a matter of time before Whedon somehow converted that jovial, friendly afternoon with friends into a cinematic experience. Filmed over a period of twelve days and using his own home as the setting of a weekend party, Much Ado About Nothing is the result of Whedon’s passion for Shakespeare, his skill with assembling strong ensembles with brilliant comedic timing, and the Bard’s penchant for situational comedy. The result is one of the best adaptations of a Shakespearean play to make its way to film, handled with the same care and consideration that made The Avengers such a success.
Whedon’s approach to Shakespeare’s story is simplistic and naturalistic, from the black and white presentation in a contemporary setting to the casual motions characters go through as they recite Shakespeare’s dialog. The opening scene sets the stage for the arrival of Don Pedro, Benedict, and Claudio and establishes Beatrice’s saucy demeanor as she and other characters prepare food in the kitchen. Benedict pontificates about love as he goes for a jog. It’s a very simple presentation, far removed from the high-concept portrayals of Baz Luhrman’s Romeo + Juliet or Kenneth Branaugh’s Love’s Labour’s Lost (or even his take on this same story), but that simplicity pays off by allowing the actors and the audience to focus on the language instead of being barraged by the conceptual presentation. It’s so nice to hear Benedict refer to his sword, pull his jacket back to show a holstered pistol, and have the film treat the audience as intelligent enough to draw the connection between the two, unlike Luhrman’s handling of the same concept.
Of course, the language is usually the turnoff when it comes to Shakespeare, and sometimes for good reason. Shakespeare’s language is not simple and the flowery use of words isn’t helped when the presentation reveres the words too much and comes across as staunch and haughty. That isn’t the case here. Whedon’s players are incredibly conversational and it doesn’t take long to make that mental switch needed to embrace the Bard’s style. The story’s humor benefits greatly from that conversational approach as well, with quite a few laugh-out-loud moments of punchlines, facial expressions, and even a well-placed pratfall or two. This is the kind of presentation Shakespeare’s plays need to have – something I’ve always strived for in my own presentations of Shakespearean works either as a performer or as director. Keneth Branaugh (Henry V, Much Ado About Nothing) and Franco Zeffirelli (Romeo & Juliet, Hamlet (1990)) may be considered the iconic names in adapting Shakespeare’s works for the screen, but neither of them have made his words and story as accessible as Whedon does here.
Whedon does have a bit of an advantage in his simplistic approach by working with a group of actors he has history with. Almost every member of the company has been a part of Whedon’s previous works, ranging from Buffy the Vampire Slayer to The Avengers. No doubt having that established relationship with his actors helped him steer them in the right direction and complete filming in such a short period of time. Don’t think for a second, however, that Whedon giving preference to his established company means they are unqualified for this project. Everyone is perfectly cast, from the coupling of Alexis Denisof and Amy Acker as the love/hate pair of Benedict and Beatrice to the bumbling, overconfidence of malapropic security officers Dogberry (Nathan Fillion) and Verges (Tom Lenk). Fran Kranz, usually seen as a goofy sidekick, is an odd choice for the more serious lover Claudio, but he shows his range and skill by nailing the part, as does Sean Maher who embraces the darkness of the story’s main protagonist, the bastard Don John, and portrays a creepy eroticism (thanks in part to the bravely wicked performance from Riki Lindhome) far removed from his farmboy charm in Firefly. Yes, Whedonites will initially love spotting (and recollecting the connections between) Whedon’s actors from the past, but that quickly becomes forgotten as they draw you into this new tale; I became so enamored by the performances here it wasn’t until the end credits that I remembered Denisof and Acker played lovers in Angel too.
Not to sing Whedon’s praises too highly (although it’s probably too late for that) but it’s the little things that make the director’s works such a pleasure to watch, and even resolves issues with Shakespeare’s original narrative. For example, in the original story, Claudio knows Don Pedro is going to woo Hero (Jillian Morganese) in the younger man’s name, but Claudio quickly falls for Don John’s scheming when the bastard brother tells Claudio that Pedro is actually taking Hero for himself. I’ve been in two stage productions of Much Ado and we’ve laughed both times at how dumb Claudio must be. Whedon comes up with another solution: he keeps the wine flowing throughout the celebratory weekend, affecting Claudio to the point that he easily believes John’s plot, not because he’s dumb but because he’s intoxicated. It’s little details like that that wind up strengthening the presentation as a whole. Every scene feels like Whedon lovingly crafted it, from helping the actors achieve their best performances to camera placement and even tiny sight gags that many audience members may never see. Clearly this was a labor of love for Whedon, just as important a project as The Avengers or any of his original television shows.
Much Ado About Nothing is exactly how Shakespeare should be done: a respect of the writer’s words delivered by the performers in an accessible manner, with ingenuity and passion brought by the director. It’s a shame some people will forego the picture simply because it is an adaptation of Shakespeare because it just doesn’t get any better than this. Here’s hoping Whedon can find time to reassemble his players in the future and bring another of the Bard’s stories to life.
-Rafe Telsch
