Lately, I find myself interested in what we cry about when we cry about Shakespeare. Focusing on weeping is not entirely fair in the case of Chicago Shakespeare Theater's Much Ado About Nothing. The show, as directed by Selina Cadell, is fun and sunny and packed with good, warm-hearted vibes. But these are teardrops of another sort. Duke Senior in As You Like It invokes "tears that sacred pity hath engendered," and that assignment is the high-water mark for Much Ado.
The dual love stories of Beatrice and Benedick and Hero and Claudio, despite their sturdy placement in a realistic township, present us with a fantasy world. The terrestrial fantasy that Shakespeare gives us in Much Ado shows us that whatever cynicism we've thrown at life, and whatever grievous errors of judgment we've committed, at the end of our saga there will still be a life-partner uniquely commensurate to our specific brand of idiosyncrasy. All our trials will find healing in redemptive meaning. Even if they've engaged in a lengthy "merry war," we love to imagine that Beatrice (Deborah Hay) and Benedick (Mark Bedard) can still find connection across a gulf of irascibility. We also hope against hope that when Hero (Mi Kang) forgives Claudio (Samuel B. Jackson) for his misinformed slander campaign against her, there could actually be a positive relationship on the other end of a real rough start. Also in this fantasy world is a supportive community of loving friends who know you better than you know yourself and will actively take time out of their day to make sure you end up with the right match. Add in that Shakespeare's Messina seems to be largely a resort/leisure town without a ton of sectional conflict (its police force is literally a citizens organization) and you basically pass the barrier from fantasy to delusion. And yet somehow this play has the reputation of being Shakespeare's most grounded comedy?
Yet in production, despite the show's effervescence, the play's moments of tearful pathos tend to be what stand out, or feel equally missing. Here, Cadell and cast hit their marks lovingly. Hay as Beatrice is a superb vessel of poetic communication, and she makes her arias about stars dancing and eating hearts moving enough to pierce right through anyone's turtle-shell (poetry has a way of poking us where we have no protective armor). Bedard is beguiling in a rakish way that I wouldn't say his previous CST appearances have hinted towards. Along with Scenic & Costume Designer Tom Piper, Cadell has concocted a warm, Tuscany-like Messina that feels like an enviable vacation spot. Her embracement of the beach-read elements of the play, and her sensitivity to the nuances of Shakespeare's verse (and prose), make her an ideal director for this text. After this and her recent Hamlet with Eddie Izzard, hopefully she'll become a CST mainstay, as this and Tamara Harvey's Pericles have been the Shakespearean highlights of Edward Hall's recently-assumed tenure as Artistic Director.
While Cadell's first half is a perfectly calibrated lyric stanza, it would be disingenuous to say the second half is as strong. The emergence of Dogberry (Sean Fortunato) and team adds a layer of humor too artificial to stand comfortably next to the easy, unforced laughs of the first half. Cadel's more "meta" insertions don't sit easy, like a repeated transitional birdsong, a "Hero out of time" moment on a balcony, and the self-congratulatory "make sure you're in the right costume" bits foisted upon Jaylon Muchison (a delightful performer, the bits are not his fault). Though whatever quibbles on the way to the comedic conclusion, the world of the play is just so fun to be in that such immersion is likely to be one's ultimate impression. The vibes are just that good.
Debo Balogun stands out as an absolutely terrific Don Pedro. We get to see him be the good angel schemer in contrast to his brother Don John's bad angel schemer (Erik Hellman as John is a highly amusing Snidely Whiplash). CST stalwart Kevin Gudhal also shines brighter than usual as a memorably feeling Leonato; this might be his most moving patriarch. Bedard's bit of hiding his newly-shaven face with the excuse "I have the toothache" was a gem of textual revelation. And Hay's desperate legalistic pleading after she's announced she's in love with Benedick but still has to exclaim "I CONFESS NOTHING" was hilarious.
You wouldn't claim this production "fixes" the fact that Claudio and Hero are not equals in delight to Beatrice and Benedick. But Cadell shows the play can stand on its own, without the need for any overt moralistic hand-wringing. This is definitely not Chris Abraham's 2023 production at the Stratford Festival in Ontario, where playwright Erin Shields was employed to give the denouement extra dialogue to damn well make sure the audience could stomach Hero and Claudio by contemporary standards. Not to be glib, but Cadell does not try out-woke Shakespeare on this one.
A beautiful choice is made when Balthasar (Muchison) is asked by Pedro and friends to sing the song "Sigh no more, ladies." As Balthasar intones the ballad, Pedro and Leonato and Claudio are clearly having a blissed-out time, and the song is so enchanting it causes the hiding Benedick to almost reveal himself and join in the chorus. Thus, Cadell shows that this song is a part of the love-trap Pedro and bros are laying for Benedick, as a cunning way to lower his defenses through music.
If this review can stand one more theory, it's this: all emotionally moving Shakespeare is moving in the same way, though not necessarily equal to each other. While there may be cosmetic variations from actor to actor, there's really only one right way to be moved when Lear commands "Howl, howl, howl." Different performers will have different "takes" but there's only one correct reaction to a Juliet's well-delivered "thy lips are warm." And in CST's production, Hay in particular nails the necessary way in which Beatrice asks of us the tears that sacred pity hath engendered. The radiant utterance of "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest" creates its own self-sustaining meaning that entirely justifies the theatre-going experience.
Let's hope CST sticks with Cadell and Harvey as directorial gunslingers, because if so, this could be a delightful new era on Navy Pier.
