Much Ado About Nothing
at the Delacorte Theatre
Lily Rabe and Hamish Linklater in Much Ado About Nothing.
To say that
the Jack O’Brien-directed Much Ado About
Nothing playing at the Delacorte Theatre in Central Park through July 6th
is generally wonderful in every conceivable way is hardly a compliment. I have yet to see a production of an
original, unaltered work of Shakespeare at this locale about which I did not
feel this way. Nor is it any great
kindness to say that Much Ado flows
just as well, and is just as breathtakingly funny, as it ever was. Much
Ado, arguably the best of Shakespeare’s comedies, needs no help from any
modern creative to be so. The most
accurate, and, I believe, the best accolade I could provide is that this
version of Much Ado is excellently
acted by all parties involved, and that makes for an exhilarating evening of
theater.
We begin,
as any dealing with this play ought, with Beatrice and Benedick, the sparring
lovers who exchange bursts of wit at which it is hard to imagine the Bard
himself did not laugh aloud upon writing.
Lily Rabe and Hamish Linklater have the good fortune to portray these
two. Both are ere of Delacorte
productions past—Ms. Rabe in As You Like
It, Mr. Linklater in The Comedy of
Errors, and both in the Broadway transfer The Merchant of Venice. Both
are marvelous. Mr. Linklater plays
Benedick brashly and loudly, the “Prince’s jester” as a true soldier. Ms. Rabe is dagger-tongued as his equally
vociferous counterpart. Their repartee
is delectable to watch; their chemistry makes their eventual love all the more satisfying.
For a
backdrop, Mr. O’Brien has chosen sun-drenched Sicily in 1900, and thanks to
John Lee Beatty’s reserved but well-rounded set and the lighting design of Jeff
Croiter, “sun-drenched” has never been so well visualized. It is intelligent on the director’s part to
set his version, as the original, in Italy, as it has a distinctly Italian
feel. Small sections of dialogue are
even delivered in Italian, and the songs included in the show (most famously
the immortal “Sigh No More,” given a different musical treatment in every
production—in this case David Yazbeck—but retaining Shakespeare’s lyrics) are
played in Old World Italian homage reminiscent of Loesser’s The Most Happy Fella.
But the
most wonderful part of watching a comedy in the park, is that, more than any
other theater, they are aware of how comical
Shakespeare’s comedies are, and make the audience just as conscious of it. Here that feat (as frequently with this play)
is mostly accomplished by Beatrice and Benedick (the scenes in which they are effectively tricked into falling in love are as hysterical as ever), but the supporting cast makes
miracles in the background. Most
surprising and entertaining is Brian Stokes Mitchell as Don Pedro, a triumph of
casting who brings great humor to the Prince, especially in his deep-throated
giggle that tickled the audience each time it was delivered. Thankfully, he was also one of the singers of
“Sigh No More,” and to hear that timeless voice delivered in such an
acoustically conducive environment is magical in itself. John Pankow as the malaprop-prone constable
Dogberry is very funny but not as funny as he could be—Nathan Fillion played
the role in Joss Whedon’s 2012 film version with just the right amount of
under-emphasis and straight-faced idiocy.
Still, his rapport with the moronic men of the Prince’s Watch is quite
entertaining, even if the role of the other great imbecile and constabulary
partner, Verges, has been greatly reduced.
Even the Prince’s wicked brother, Don John, a traditionally straight
role, is played with surprising comic dexterity by the delightfully surprising
Pedro Pascal, late of “Game of Thrones” (fans of the show will excuse the pun).
There are
flaws—an unfunny bit with a moving wall, a slight disjointedness sparked by “Sigh
No More” in the middle of a scene—but they are merely chinks in the armor. Speaking of chinks, at one point Mr.
Linklater actually flubbed a line, but his sheepish response actually provoked
more laughter than the line probably would have. Nobody’s perfect.
But
Shakespeare comes close, and in the jubilant final scene (which includes uplifting
traditional dance by Danny Mefford), the joy pervading the actors and the
audience is almost overwhelming. Both
the Bard and Jack O’Brien are evidently aware that nothing perks audiences up
like a really good comedy executed really well.
This isn’t the first Shakespeare in the Park has produced, and it won’t
be the last.
