Theater Reviews

Nov 16, 2008 - Nevada Rep's "Much Ado About Nothing" charms with much ado about a great deal

By Jack Neal

If Shakespeare had gambled in Reno, he might have set his comedy, “Much Ado About Nothing,” in the World’s Biggest Little City. The Bard missed that bet by about 400 years and that is our loss.

A loss corrected by Nevada Repertory Company director Jan Powell, who knows a thing or two about making Shakespeare relevant for modern audiences. Now set on the grounds of a Reno estate owned by Leonato, a wealthy casino owner, Powell’s “Much Ado” has all kinds of updates including a Michael Jackson comeback of sorts in the form of a production number choreographed (nicely tongue-in-cheek by Kara McNally) to an excerpt from Jackson’s “Thriller.”

The time is the present, with troops returning from Iraq on leave. The story involves two sets of lovers. The first set, Claudio and Hero, are destined to be torn apart by the treachery of others. The second, Benedick and Beatrice, are nearly kept apart by the treachery of their own hearts. The play involves a few crucial days in the lives of the followers of Don Pedro.

Claudio, a Don Pedro follower, immediately has eyes for Hero, Leonato’s daughter. Her eyes imply she reciprocates. Benedick and Beatrice also have feelings for one another, but their feelings are expressed through barbed insults and public sparring. Enter Don Pedro’s sinister brother Don John, who can’t stand love and happiness (he’s no Don Juan) and sets out to pry Claudio and Hero from one another’s arms. Don John is a jerk, but without him there wouldn’t be a play.

But who cares? No one takes “Much Ado About Nothing” seriously. Even Shakespeare’s more serious moments between Benedick and Beatrice are not taken seriously. “Much Ado” is a comedy and all audiences need do is wait until everything pans out just before the final curtain. In the end, a successful production of “Much Ado” is all about style and everyone in this Nevada Rep presentation works hard to make it stylish.

Mostly they succeed.

Powell wraps things up in slightly less than two hours of fun and mayhem. Her direction is inventive - some inventions to success, some to excess. Among many things, she uses jazz as a scene setter much as George Clooney used jazz as a setup for scenes in “Good Night, and Good Luck.” But Clooney’s movie wasn’t a comedy and in the context of “Much Ado,” icy cool, reflective jazz is more of a downer than a rush to laughter. But more importantly, Powell elicits many excellent performances from a large cast in which no one fails (in one way or another) to please.

Andrew Mowers (Benedick) has a terrific sense of timing, great presence and is the glue that glues “Much Ado” together. Emilie Meyer (Beatrice) knows how to dish out the wisecracks and she has the magnetism to make her scenes with Mowers click with high-octane chemistry.

Mary Katharine Orr (Hero) holds up her end of the bargain with flair in a role that, in lesser hands, can be cloying. Even if he’s all too quick to believe Hero is the two-timer Don John, the jerk, says she is, James Schlauch (Claudio) is in most respects a believable lover. In a juicy characterization and with Blond hair bouncing every exasperated step of the way, Lynn Lombardi (Dogberry) is a scene-stealing delight every step of the way. Zachary L.J. Bartot (Don Pedro) is solid. As Hero’s big daddy, Phil Harriman (Leonato) fills the bill. ‘Aukai Almeida (Balthasar) sings beautifully.

Michael Fernbach’s scenic designs are quite handsome, if at times a bit cumbersome providing an environment for smooth action. Larry Walters’ lighting designs are perfection.

Like a charmingly gregarious person with flaws, Nevada Rep’s “Much Ado About Nothing” has its flaws but charms nonetheless.

“Much Ado About Nothing” can be seen at the Redfield Proscenium Theatre, 1664 North Virginia Street, Reno, Nevada, November 14 (the performance reviewed), 15 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 at 7:30 p.m., and November 23 at 1:30 p.m. For information call 775-784-4278, 800-225-2277 or go on line at www.unr.edu/arts.