Women get more say in Much Ado About Nothing

Much ado about nothing

By William Shakespeare, additional text by Erin Shields, directed by Chris Abraham. At the Festival Theatre, 55 Queen St., Stratford, through October 27. Stratfest.com or 1-800-567-1600.

Director Chris Abraham once again sheds new light on a Shakespearean comedy by reading it through a contemporary lens on the Stratford Festival Theater stage.

In 2014, he put a new spin on the well-known “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” by presenting as entertainment at a same-sex wedding party (I saw that production and really enjoyed it). The following year, he added a new frame to “The Taming of the Shrew” (which I regretted not seeing) to tame the play’s misogyny.

This time, he’s enlisted award-winning playwright Erin Shields to add lyrics to “Much Ado about Nothing” to give the female characters more voice and agency — and, in Maev Beaty’s delightfully complex performance as Beatrice, more comedic fodder. . Moving, and perhaps against all odds, the show’s message is ultimately about people’s, even men’s, ability to change.

Graham Abbey is a perfect fit for Beaty as her verbal sparring partner and true love Benedick. Stratford programmed this production for the 2020 Stratford season that never happened, and it’s just as satisfying to watch these two brilliant actors come together as it must be for them to finally deliver the show .

The overall premise of the play – familiar to some from Kenneth Branagh’s 1993 film version – is that a gaggle of military heroes led by Don Pedro (André Sills) gather for a month at the estate of the wealthy Leonato (Patrick McManus) and romantic intrigues ensue.

In a program note, Abraham says the piece cracked open for him when he realized “nothing” was slang for female roles. Yup, Shakespearean audiences would have understood the show’s title to be “Much Ado about a Vagina.”

This indeed illuminates the piece and points out what can make contemporary audiences difficult. The vagina in question is that of the beautiful Hero (Allison Edwards-Crewe), the daughter of Leonato, whose romance with Claudio (Austin Eckert) is thrown into crisis when the dastardly Don John (Michael Blake) tricks Claudio into thinking Hero cheated on him .

This sends these comedic romps to an ugly place in act two, as the patriarchy takes a hard line against Hero. After Claudio forcefully pushes her off and calls her a “rotten orange,” Edwards-Crewe sobs and sobs as her father shames her (McManus’ anger was so believable I almost had to look the other way ).

Two lines of action come together to rectify the situation: a plot proposed by Friar Francis (Gordon Patrick White) and led by Beatrice to fake Hero’s death, and a noisy scheme in which the doofuses Dogberry (Josue Laboucane) and Conrade (Cyrus Lane) discover the truth about Hero’s alleged infidelity, fueled by a slapstick group of dim-witted townspeople armed with pitchforks and an ear horn.

In Shakespeare’s text, Hero has few spoken lines, which is irritating since hair isn’t what all the fuss is about. Shields has given her more to say, including a sensitively written new scene where she and Claudio try to find their way back to each other. Here the idea of ​​growing and changing together is plainly stated. But it’s also present in Benedick’s character arc, as he transforms from cocky blowhard to unlikely feminist avenger.

Abbey’s Benedick hilariously casts the audience as his scene partner, such as when he gets an audience member to take off one of his boots after maids Ursula (Akosua Amo-Adem) and Margaret (Déjah Dixon-Green) haughtily refuse. But we also see him stepping forward as he realizes that loving Beatrice means fighting for what she believes in.

Shields gives Beatrice pride of place with a new show-opening monologue, and from the get-go, Beaty builds her performance layer by layer as a fiercely intelligent, vulnerable woman who’s been burned by Benedick but just can’t resist seeking out his company.

The most ravishing part of the production for me is back-to-back pre-intermission scenes where Benedick and Beatrice are tricked into thinking the other is in love with them. This is pure physical comedy, with Abbey’s Benedick falling down a flight of stairs and using a huge potted plant as a shield as he walks across the stage, and Beaty’s Beatrice getting her ears popped out hiding under a banquet table and Ursula pounding on them.

What makes these scenes so great is not only the excellence of the staging and acting, but also the emotional truth that lies beneath. These two goofballs climb up and fall from the same tree because the idea that the other could love them is the most exciting thing in the world.

Abraham pairs up again with designer Julie Fox and her set is beyond opulent: that gorgeous tree that rises to the high ceiling of the Festival Theater, a stepped blonde tiled floor covered in terracotta pottery and flowers, a wrought iron gate marking the entrance to the grounds from Leonato. It’s like a travel ad for Sicily that you want to get into.

Thomas Ryder Payne’s sound design and composition further add to the Mediterranean atmosphere: crickets chirp as the audience enters and we sometimes hear birdsong, and a three-piece band led by George Meanwell regularly appear on stage to serenade the action . Fox’s attractive costumes maintain the early modern setting with some striking touches, most notably Hero’s crimson wedding dress.

At three hours in length, the show demands stamina, but Abraham’s sure hand and the excellence of the grand ensemble carry the audience along, swerving into the patriarchal abyss even through the second act. At the end, everyone is rewarded with a curtain call for a dance (choreography by Adrienne Gould).

Can’t wait to see what crazy Shakespearean comedy Abraham takes on next.

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