One More Merry War

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 6^th 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.