Much Ado About Nothing @ Shakespeare Everywhere
—Review by Sam Lisman
Shakespeare Everywhere prides itself on (or at least reconciles itself to) being lightly rehearsed: cast members meet for only a handful of rehearsals before taking the stage, relying on their skills and impulses, rather than blocking, choreography, and repetition. While this can sometimes cause them to trip over each other—or members of the audience—it also brings a spontaneity and ad hoc mania, if not whimsicality, to their performances. There are no marks to hit; they need to pay attention to what their fellow performers are doing and where they’re doing it. And yes, they occasionally require a prompt for their lines, but that just gives everyone an excuse to take another drink.
Such was the case with the company’s uproariously over-the-top performance of Much Ado About Nothing at the Deep Ellum Art Company. (It moves to The Wild Detectives for a second and final performance on October 17.) Much Ado tells the tale of two couples: the young Claudio and Hero, and the somewhat older Benedick and Beatrice. Returning from war to relax at the palatial estate of Hero’s father Leonato is the Prince of Aragon, Don Pedro. With him are his faithful comrades-in-arms, “Signior” Benedick and Count Claudio, as well as his recently reconciled brother, the self-proclaimed villain Don John. They had stopped at Leonato’s on the way to subdue the rebellious John, at which time Claudio and Hero had made eyes at each other. Now that everything is resolved, Claudio is eager to pursue the lady. Her cousin, Beatrice, had once had a thing (as we’d say now) with Benedick that didn’t turned out too well. Both protest— usually without prompting—how happy they both are to remain single. They delight in tormenting each other, flinging some of Shakespeare’s greatest barbs (many of which are still understandable without footnotes). The wicked Don John, with the aid of his minions, is determined to destroy Claudio’s happiness, while the benevolent Don Pedro conspires with his host to play matchmaker for Beatrice and Benedick. Along the way we get to witness staged conversations, a father who treats his daughter horribly, even by Shakespearean standards, a constable who continually uses words that mean the opposite of what he thinks they mean, a scheme so non-sensical it beggars belief, and some of the most inspiring and moving scenes in the canon.
Marcus Stimac, Shakespeare Everywhere’s Artistic Director, plays Benedick with the same excess found in his portrayal of Nick Bottom in last summer’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Benedick may be better spoken than Bottom, but here he contains the same sort of unbridled energy, the conveyance of which is what makes Stimac shine. His boasts and braggadocio, his witticisms and declamations all flow naturally, as if they’re his own words, instead of lines from a script more than four hundred years old. Not to be outdone, Ben Stegmair’s Claudio practically bounces off the walls (except it was outdoors, so there were no walls). This is a Claudio you would love to gamble against, as every emotion he encounters is displayed unambiguously on his face and in every gesture. He takes us through his character’s roller-coaster ride of successive emotions with wild abandon (exuberance, petulance, dejection, back to exuberance, contempt, disdain, contrition, sorrow, and finally, because this is a comedy, more exuberance). You always know where Claudio stands.
Against these two are the villains: Omar Padilla as Don John and Christian Taylor as his henchman Borachio. Don John is not Shakespeare’s most fleshed out villain, but what he lacks in the craftiness of an Iago, the self-awareness of an Aaron, the justification of a Tamara or Margaret, or the self-loathing of a Claudius, he more than makes up for in his straight-forward dastardliness. Padilla plucks this string for all it’s worth: had there been train tracks handy, I’ve no doubt he’d have tied Hero to them. This is no laidback, laconic Don John; he spits out his hatred for his brother, for the “exquisite Count Claudio,” and for the world they inhabit.
As Borachio, the actual brains behind the expectorating bastard (I use that title both literally and figuratively), Taylor channels Jack Nicholson and every disco lounge lizard you’ve ever seen. Oozing a misplaced self-regard and dripping slime everywhere he goes, it is Borachio who devises and executes the plan to make Hero seem unfaithful. But it’s Taylor’s wordless reaction at a pivotal moment late in the play that truly elevates his performance beyond the comic.
Against all of this, Jordan Desmarais provides a solid Beatrice to puncture this overinflated Benedick. It’s not that she’s a little too stoic in her demeanor; it’s just that next to Stimac, a typhoon seems tame. That said, she more than nails it in the classic exchange that is Act 4, Scene 1: anger, hatred, sorrow, joy, desire, and implacable loyalty are each expressed in rapid-fire succession. Quinn Coffman’s Hero is everything she is written to be: sweet and delightful, charming and pretty, devastated and disconsolate when betrayed.
While the remaining cast all did well, special mention must be given to two of the other performers. Michael Johnson, who also directs the play, is a joy to watch as Dogberry. As we’ve been blessed with so many versions of Much Ado (at least a half dozen are readily available on DVD), we’ve seen so many different ways of playing Dogberry, the constable with the backwards vocabulary. Johnson plays him with an appropriate dignity that makes his malapropisms tremendous fun (and his costuming is perfect).
And then there is Shawn Gann as Leonato. For most of the play, Leonato is a cheerful, happy fellow, whom Gann presents as positively cherubic. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s a wealthy landowner, a friend to the Prince of Aragon, and his only child, a beloved daughter, is about to marry a Count who also happens to be the favorite of the prince. And then at the drop of a hat, Leonato transforms into perhaps the most loathsome father in all of Shakespeare—and that’s saying something, when you consider the lineup includes Capulet, Shylock, Egeus, and oh yeah, Lear (among others). Father-daughter relationships in Shakespeare plays are not for the faint at heart, and this one is a doozy. Gann skillfully leads us through the whole gamut: from adoration to sorrow to homicidal rage. And while we shrink back from his detestable anger, it seems natural, uncontrived.
As for the technical design, well, there really isn’t any. There’s no scenery. Props require a certain amount of backyard imagination (think toilet plungers for swords), while costumes are put together, rather than designed. (When they did Titus Andronicus, the armor was well-used sports equipment.) Music, both electronic and live clarinet, is provided by “jonjonEZ,” while Monet Lerner sings sweetly as Balthazar. All of this works because of the strength of the script and the actors. They don’t need fancy sets and believable swords. And neither does the audience.
It may be called Much Ado About Nothing, but it’s actually quite something—and a great deal of fun.
WHEN: Closing performance Monday, October 17
WHERE: The Wild Detectives, 314 W. Eighth Street, Dallas
WEB: For ticket purchases, https://shakespeareeverywhere.ticketleap.com/
