Much Ado About Nothing, Joss Whedon courtesy Sharmill Films |
I remember the terrible Dire Straits song that we had to listen to (our teacher being very ‘modern’) and a lot of wringing hands—blood that could never wash off. I remember little deaths and the screams of laughter when our teacher, blushing, revealed what those words meant. I remember terrible films, full of arch overacting and stiff costumes, that were an endurance test. Or, even worse, the outings to plays where the whole audience of schoolies could not stop giggling at the sight of men in tights, the laughter so loud it drowned out the actors’ lines.
I found Shakespearean language and most poetry (until I came to Emily Dickinson) like a locked box. I couldn’t find a key until Year 11 when I had a teacher who was a passionate guide. As he started to work carefully through the language with precision, I began to realise that Shakespeare was funny. And possibly relevant. I started to enjoy the shape of it on my tongue. Sex and death? As a teen I was obsessed with both. Wasn’t everyone?
Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet put an end to my lingering distrust. It was fresh, exciting, operatic in scope, full of sound and fury (of course it signified something) and the romance was palpable. I remember sitting in the Orpheum, thinking about whether to buy another ticket and start over again. Most of all, I finally understood the writing, the language, without having to struggle.
Look, I’ll admit it. I’m a fan of Joss Whedon. I’m one of those people who came late to his shows, but I watched Buffy episodes all in a row on Friday nights with my best friend and then Angel in parallel so I could enjoy the interconnecting narrative. Then I watched everything else he ever made. I saw him speak at Melbourne Town Hall when he toured here. A friend commented that he could make toast and it would be interesting to watch.
Much Ado About Nothing, Joss Whedon courtesy Sharmill Films |
The actors deliver their lines with Whedonesque drollness and the physical staging is innovative in confined spaces. Amy Acker as Beatrice and Alexis Denisoff as Benedick battle it out wordily in screwball comedy style, while Whedon brings in all his other regulars, often against type. It feels like a family affair and in fact it was. His co-producer on the film (and wife) Kai Cole did a Skype interview at the film session I attended. She said that for many years they had regular Shakespeare readings in their home and the film emerged with the same actors involved. Much Ado has the manic energy that low-budget collaboration with great actors seems to create, even though it’s not improvised. (This "real" feel reminds me of Cassavetes.)
Much Ado About Nothing, Joss Whedon courtesy Sharmill Films |
Much Ado About Nothing, director Joss Whedon, Australian distributor Sharmill Films, in cinemas from 11 July; http://www.sharmillfilms.com.au
RealTime issue #115 June-July 2013 pg. web
© Kirsten Krauth; for permission to reproduce apply to [email protected]