As an interesting sequel to her last post, Frances, our president, discusses the Royal Shakespeare Company's approach to Much Ado about Nothing - or should that be 'Love's Labour's Won'?
What an interesting idea to consider: in a
pre-show interview the director, Christopher Luscombe, made a strong case for
regarding Much Ado About Nothing as
the missing Love’s Labour’s Won and
treating it as a sequel to Love’s
Labour’s Lost.
We usually expect a sequel to follow the
fortunes of characters we met in the earlier story, in much the same setting. Well,
Luscombe had already changed Navarre to Warwickshire, so in the second play 'sunny Sicily' was changed to 'chilly England', the action in the same
beautiful country house. However, the cast was now playing completely new
characters entirely unconnected with the first play. This gave me an additional
pleasure: observing the skill and versatility of the performers in their
different roles, notably Sam Alexander, who turned from the superbly eccentric
Don Adriano to the authoritative and soldierly, but kindly, Don Pedro. The two
leads, Edward Bennett and Michelle Terry, moved from their fine portrayals of
the youthful Biron and Rosaline to even more admirable performances as the more
mature Benedick and Beatrice. Although Love’s
Labour’s Lost was the last film I had seen (and therefore fresh in my mind)
I accepted these new acquaintances immediately, greatly to the credit of the
actors.
The decision to place the action in the
immediate post-WW1 period allowed perhaps more than usual emphasis on pathos
and the darker aspects of the play. Beatrice’s chatter was less light-hearted and
her exchanges with Benedick had an edge suggesting past disappointment or
misunderstanding. She frequently evoked a sense of loneliness behind her
outward bravado, while Benedick at times appeared at a loss to understand her
and their current relationship.
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| Iqbal Khan's 2012 production with Meera Syal as Beatrice and Amara Karan as Hero. By Ellie Kurttz. |
There were nevertheless some lovely comic
scenes, particularly the gulling of Benedick, when he performed amazing
contortions behind the window curtains, and survived a near-electrocution in
the Christmas tree. Another gloriously funny scene was performed in solemn
silence, as the sexton tried to leave Dogberry’s kitchen, but found himself
hemmed in by people, furniture and assorted domestic paraphernalia while
everyone milled about trying to clear the way. The gulling of Beatrice was
treated far more seriously with her listening at the window of a high tower. I
thought her stillness and sadness (rather than affronted umbrage) contrasted
rather too strongly with the actions of Hero and Ursula, who appeared to try a
little too hard in their search for the comedy of the scene.
The audience had been told in advance that
the characters of Don John and Dogberry were to be understood as resulting from
trauma during the war. I found some difficulty with this. Don John’s use of a
crutch and his marked limp tended to evoke sympathy and to reduce the impact of
his malevolence, but did not give any clearer explanation of his motives. Dogberry
was to be seen as suffering PTSD to account for his mis-use of words. My
feeling is that comedy allows us to laugh sometimes at things which polite
society does not permit in daily life, and that we can enjoy Dogberry’s
extraordinary vocabulary just as later generations enjoyed Mrs Malaprop. I see
Dogberry as smugly complacent about his own authority and position and entirely
happily unaware of his deficiencies. To give him the extra tics and limps of a
disastrous war made it difficult for me simply to enjoy his character.
The build-up to Hero’s wedding was
charming, with a pretty scene in her bedroom, the girls in negligee and
pyjamas, all excitement and warmth. It led nicely into the fine church setting,
with stained glass, choir and guests ready for the big moment. However, this
scene for me was perhaps the least successful of the play. Claudio needed more
fire and shock-power in his denunciation, and the long and vituperative speech
of Hero’s father, Leonato, was accompanied by a distinct drop in the high and
engaging intensity of the rest of the performance.
Beatrice and Benedick were outstanding in
their interaction. Sensitive timing and well-judged emphases and facial
expressions drew from their lines every last nuance of thought and feeling. They
moved from some sense of disgruntlement at the start to the joyous surrender to
mutual love at the end with charm and a lovely balance of fun and seriousness. The
conclusion of the play was a warmly and satisfyingly happy one.
