I tell ya, people are REALLY bothered by Hero and Claudio.
And not without good reason. The entire engine of Much Ado About Nothing's plot hinges on whether or not Claudio perceives Hero as a virgin. When he does at love's first blush, she is marriage material; but when he believes her foul and besmirched, she deserves contempt and public shaming. But then once Claudio realizes he was only TRICKED into thinking Hero had cheated on him, all is well again and a happy ending can ensue (to the tuneful screams of that trickster Don John being tortured).
And yet Hero and Claudio, despite holding the definitive A-plot position in the narrative, can often go disregarded in an actual viewing experience. Isn't this comedy the saga of Beatrice and Benedick? Don't we come to this story to see two brainy, guarded wittiers square off via verbal swashbuckling but then ultimately open themselves to the glorious and messy possibilities of love and vulnerability? Pretty sure we do.
And so the fact that Chris Abraham's production of Much Ado About Nothing at the Stratford Festival employs playwright Erin Shields to write a whole-ass brand-new duologue between Hero and Claudio before Hero will accept him upon the occasion of their second marriage ceremony (the first having been abortive) materializes as both admirable and curiously unmoving. Appreciating what Shields is doing is easy: she writes reams of new blank verse whereby Hero (Allison Edwards-Crewe) admonishes Claudio (Austin Eckert) for his slut-shaming: Claudio then apologizes and says he was wrong and misled, and then Hero takes Claudio on a hypothetical situation whereby she asks how he would react now if he found out she had in fact not been a virgin at the time of their betrothal, to which Claudio admits messy feelings of hypothetical jealousy, and promises to be a better and more progressive partner going forward, understanding his personal neuroses will not be conquered in an afternoon. The loose ends are addressed, and director Abraham successfully shields himself from any sort of righteous backlash. The solution is perfectly acceptable, it just remains cosmically amusing that so much spilt ink and wrung hands need to be employed in the justification of one of Shakespeare's least endearing couples.
That being said, as is appropriate, the dancing stars of Beatrice and Benedick shine brightest in what is overall a funny and moving production of Shakespeare's great domestic comedy. Graham Abbey brings the rakish charm of a matinee idol to his Benedick, both cad and confidante, and the way he intones "are you yet living?" to Beatrice, as though he earnestly did harbor a secret hope of entering Messina and finding her corpse untimely laid to rest, is totally hilarious. Maev Beaty as Beatrice is wonderful: both sensible and sensitive, she and Abbey serve up a full emotional meal as the Bard's most hopeful marriage, and Beaty's soliloquy after hearing that Benedick is in love with her (as part of the gulling plot to bring the two together) is open and honest and vulnerable and served up without any pyrotechnics other than Beaty's own body and voice and soul.
Other fun items: the return of "Peace, I will stop your mouth" to Leonato (begging B&B to shut up and kiss already); the notion that Borachio's 1000 ducats end up as Dogberry's fee for delivering justice on a local level; the image of Ursula gagging every time she has to pretend Benedick is a marriageable prospect; and the transference of Benedick's "I'll devise thee brave punishments for him" to Beatrice (and changing it to 'we'll) just feels right.
Andre Sills is also lots of fun as Don Pedro, who as Sills portrays him, is a man who seems only to be happy when he is concocting some new plot or good-hearted scheme. The only elements of the production that don't come alive are when the comedy feels forced: this production has about 50 dick jokes too many, and the humor in the Dogberry scenes feels artificial (and the choice to explicitly call the Constable's group a 'neighborhood watch' has unwelcome implications in 2023). But nevertheless, one comes away from this Much Ado, set in a rustic, Italianate villa with oranges and palm trees (beautifully designed by Julie Fox), with a smile and a belief that even for the crankiest of stodgers, love can, under highly particular circumstances, conquer all or most. Abraham's use of onstage music lends the show a useful buoyancy, and the whole thing is a great time.
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