Still much to do with this Much Ado


Reviewed 12/3/04

At the center of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing is a cute story about two professed cynics, Beatrice and Benedick, whose clever repartee is a sure sign that their heads are unaware of their hearts’ desire. Their exchanges are some of the best that the Bard has to offer, and that sparring is pretty much the only reason I continue to see this show multiple times. There is some business about a plot to call into question a maiden’s virtue the night before her nuptials and an awkward subplot involving the malaprop-prone constable Dogberry stumbling upon it, but generally it is the spark between the wits that keeps Much Ado from being too appropriately titled.

Opening night at Actors’ Renaissance Theatre’s production of this play, transported to the end of WWII through costume and swing music, appeared to be closer to a dress rehearsal than a true mounting of the play. The company dealt with a late departure through shifts in the cast that had Director Matthew Proschold stepping into the boots of Dogberry and moving Daniel Gallai from that role to the romantic lead of Claudio. Peter Bish’s set, too, had the appearances and intimations of a creation not quite finished. Between the dropped lines and cues of many in the cast, the awkward stage pictures, and the creaking and cracking of the stage itself, it is clear that the audience, barely outnumbered by the cast, would have to suspend disbelief even more than usual.

Proschold’s staging does not create many pretty pictures. Though he does a nice job of coming up with visual jokes during the deception scenes of Beatrice and Benedick, his group scenes tend to fall into lines.

TPAC is an unforgiving space, and when a company mounts a production there without drapes, scrims, and full-height flats, actors need to be aware of their diction and projection. Proof of the consequences can be seen in performances such as Dave Edmunds’ patriarch Leonato, who swallows his lines in a way that makes them impossible to understand, or Trey Clevenger’s mumbling as princely Don Pedro. Few of the cast are clearly understood throughout in the way that Proschold and Kelley Guarneri’s delightful Beatrice are. The low registers of Tim Butterfield’s voice as Benedick relegate many of his lines to the status of rumblings. The connection between Butterfield and Guarneri is quite enjoyable, even if some of the all-important banter is lost, and that is what keeps this evening from tanking completely. Butterfield’s quick and utter transformation of Benedick from confirmed bachelor to giddy lover is enjoyable, and when he and Guarneri battle and woo, they are both obviously in the moment.

Gallai’s move to Claudio is ill advised. One could imagine him acing Dogberry, but he seems tentative and much too young as Hero’s suitor. It could be that he was more concerned with finding his lines and cues, but he never seemed comfortable. Courtney Weir is once again a treat as the object of his affection. She is an endearing sprite, and it is equally enjoyable to watch her in reaction and in recitation. Clevenger seems equally hesitant as Gallai, occasionally doubling back on his lines to say them correctly. There is little connection between him, Gallai, and Butterfield.

The heavies of the evening are a sad bunch. The covetous Don John is reduced to a scowl and a sneer by the one-note Christopher E. Williams. Depth is lacking, too, from his henchman Borachio as played by Matthew Logan, who appears to be doing a bad imitation of Richard III with his dragging foot and scene-chewing histrionics. Balancing them is Proschold’s performance as Dogberry, which is one of the best and most enjoyable I’ve seen. However, as he was in the scene rather than viewing it, the over-the-top, scene stealing aping of his assistant Verges (Ross Bruggeman) is so desperate for a laugh that it is truly embarrassing to watch.

Bish’s set is better in theory but deserves to be executed. He has created one nice playing space in a bench and trellis, but a monstrosity behind of the outside of Leonato’s villa that depends on opening the looming walls with squeaky casters to reveal the dining room within. It appears to have been painted by the firing of dirt-colored paintballs and some inadvertent drama was achieved when the stair unit began cracking menacingly after being bounded upon by the husky Williams. James K. Barnard’s sound design includes a few 40s swing hits played several times, occasionally effectively. The unbilled costuming aces period but direly needs a fitting. Wolfram Ott’s lighting offers uniform coverage and occasional variance.

Even with a few more rehearsal/performances, I’m not sure that this will be an effective rendering of the show. A lot depends on the central enjoyable performances of Butterfield and Guarneri, who still aren’t enough to counter the miscastings and imbalances as they stood on opening night. If many in the ensemble can find a way to project rather than eat their lines and form bonds of community, this show may find its focus.