Much Ado About Nothing

Earlier this year Emma Rice, the artistic director of The Globe, was forced to leave her post after falling out with the theatre’s board. Concern with her vision was evident from the start: her take on Shakespeare was something the theatre hadn’t seen before- there was inauthentic sound and lighting as well as modern costume and staging. In the hallowed home of Shakespeare, traditionalists felt Rice had ransacked the ancestral property, stripping it of its character, putting up gaudy wallpaper in its place. The heritage site of England’s finest was aflame; the director charged with arson – she had to go.

I saw one of her approved productions last year: Romeo and Juliet. And although I didn’t like every element of The Day Of The Dead vision, I admired it. These plays are over 400 years old – do people really want to see another loyal Elizabethan version? I think some critics see it as egocentric when directors modernise or transpose Shakespeare, conceiving it as ‘change for change’s sake.’ They would argue that you can’t improve on perfection so why tamper with something that has worked for centuries. For me, this is the antithesis of art, of society. Something great can be made greater. It’s not arrogant to think a Shakespeare production can be improved; rather it’s cowardly and conservative to believe that it can’t. As long as the words and characters are there, it’s Shakespeare; the conduit can be changed, the message is still the same. Teachers will always tell students that Shakespeare is relevant to them: the postcode war in Romeo and Juliet, the fake news of Othello, the about-turn of teenage love in Midsummer...: so what’s the problem if it looks and sounds relevant to? A more relatable context can turn a Shakespeare denier into a believer. Just because elitist commentators ‘get it’ straightaway doesn’t mean everyone does. Paradoxically for an Elizabethan writer, Shakespeare feels modern; so I have no problem with him looking it too.

Emma Rice. Pic. courtesy of Daniel Hambury.

The reason why I talk about this is because I’ve just seen a wonderful production of Much Ado About Nothing by the OVO theatre group. Performed in St Albans’ Roman amphitheatre, the setting is incongruously fresh. Instead of being set in the 16^th century port of Messina, it’s staged in the American Midwest. The men returning from battle aren’t soldiers but members of the Navy, stationed on the USS Gull, a minesweeper used in the Second World War and Korean War. One of the men returning is Benedick, who sees himself as something of a sexual libertine. If he was to draw a self-portrait, the cock would be elongated and the body more ripped than true. Soon he’s entering into ‘a skirmish of wit’ with Beatrice. In terms of heroines, Beatrice is one of Shakespeare’s best. Given the play was first performed in the 16^th century, she is more than a match for Benedick; in fact, she is his intellectual superior. In response to his constant barbs, she responds with insults of her own, challenging his weight, ego and misogyny. The repartee between the two performers, Faith Turner and Peter Bryans, is sublime with each recognising the need for quick-fire timing. Deep down though the two characters are in love; their words mask their emotions. The two have the gift of the gab; however are emotionally mute. Neither has the courage to confess their feelings, aware that the other could ridicule them for it. These characters pride themselves on their intellectualism, as a result they can’t debase themselves by playing commoner and confessing love. A teacher colleague of mine made a wise remark on playing Beatrice: he was saying that when the insults have ended and Beatrice says in an aside, ‘You always end on a jade’s trick,’ that’s where you tell the quality of an actor. This line reveals Beatrice’s true character: that she’s hurt by Benedick’s words; that she’s vulnerable. Some actors don’t have the ability to transition quickly from comedy to tragedy, but Turner does, making OVO’s Beatrice appropriately big and small.

In rehearsal.

Given the play features returning American Navy men, it’s probably wise that I tell you how it fits into directors Adam Nichols and Janet Pond’s vision. The men have come into port and like all good sailors want some kicks. They set up residence in Leonata’s (a change from the original's Leonato) diner, a place where you can unwind with a beer and the jukebox. In the evening a girl group are in residence, The Sonnettes (a play on 60’s girl group, The Ronettes). OVO are known for including live music and this inclusion is a testimony to the craft that goes into their productions. The band, situated to the side of the stage, are sublime, banging out the tunes of Chuck Berry, The Supremes and Shangri-Las. Sometimes the music is just there to establish the atmosphere of a forthcoming scene; other times it’s there to reflect on the action. When Benedick and Beatrice eventually realise their love, a singer sings a beautiful rendition of Etta James’  ‘At Last.’ When Dogberry, a member of the watch, arrests Borachio for subterfuge, we’re in to Elvis’ ‘Jailhouse Rock.’ Whether the music is literalising the action or colouring a scene, the choices always feel right. The whole sound direction of the performance is to be applauded. We know the tunes, but we’re not distracted by them. It’s not clap-a-long jukebox musical, but a soundtrack to a wonderful play.

The 50's staging. Picture courtesy of Jonnie Nash.

The production, on the whole, is loyal to Shakespeare’s words - although some are pruned and chopped. A few are altered altogether. (The board of The Globe would have kittens.) I really didn’t mind some bits being changed and in fact enjoyed the inventiveness. In one earlier scene where Benedick says what he would rather do than talk to Beatrice, his words are given a period setting. Instead of proposing, ‘I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia,’ he instead says he will ‘pluck the cigar from Castro.’ Since we’re in a 50’s/60’s setting, it would be jarring to hear arcane references; therefore, the writers stay loyal to their period. Having taught the play to secondary students for a few years, I, along with the students, enjoyed picking up on the changes; it also served as a reminder that all good art is collaborative; in this case between the living (OVO) and the dead (Shakespeare).

Having been to The National and The Globe, I was a little apprehensive about seeing a production by a group I’d never heard of. I was wrong and ignorant to worry. It genuinely is the best time I’ve ever had at a Shakespeare play. The attention to detail was truly staggering for people that have day jobs. It really is awe-inspiring when you think about the commitments people have with work and family that they can find the time, not just to put on a Shakespeare play, but to be in dialogue with it. OVO really consider how they can corporealise the Bards' ghost for an audience that either haven’t seen a Shakespeare play or have seen so many that it’s hard to be impressed. OVO’s Much Ado is proof positive that you can put Shakespeare in a swing dress without him looking ridiculous. After all, centuries turn, styles change, but his lyrical voice remains constant. As long as creatives don’t lose sight of the language, they should feel free to dress him how they like.

Much Ado About Nothing is on at Roman Theatre of Verulamium until 21st July.