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Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson triumph in this brilliant adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing |
Director: Kenneth Branagh
Cast: Kenneth Branagh (Benedick), Emma Thompson (Beatrice),
Denzel Washington (Don Pedro), Michael Keaton (Dogberry), Keanu Reeves (Don
John), Richard Briers (Leonato), Robert Sean Leonard (Claudio), Kate Beckinsale
(Hero), Gerard Horan (Borachio), Imelda Staunton (Margaret), Brian Blessed
(Antonio), Ben Elton (Verges), Jimmy Yuill (Friar Francis), Richard Clifford
(Conrade), Phyllida Law (Ursula)
Branagh’s Much Ado About
Nothing was his second Shakespearean directing gig, but his fourth film –
and it’s clear from the first frame what a confident director he has become. Much Ado is one of the best Shakespeare
films ever made, and certainly the greatest film version of a Shakespearean
comedy, largely because it’s not only charming and hugely enjoyable but also actually funny – a pretty rare feat for
any filmed version of a Shakespeare comedy.
From the opening you pretty much know you are in safe hands.
Branagh loves the vibrant excitement of cinema, and delights in bringing the
meaning out of Shakespeare’s text. Both ideas are central to the opening of the
film, with Emma Thompson’s luscious reading of “Sigh No More”, while the camera
pans across a bucolically blissful Tuscan setting. This feeds straight into
Beatrice’s playful banter with the messenger – and Richard Briers gives the
first indication of the film’s attention to small character details with his “don’t
go there” look when the messenger tries to correct Beatrice’s teasing
defamation of Benedick. From there the film explodes into a triumphant Magnificent Seven style arrival of
Pedro’s lords on athletic horseback (backed by Patrick Doyle’s inspiring
overture), while Leonato’s household excitedly (in a typical Branagh tracking
shot) prepare to greet them, before an overhead crane shot introduces the two
groups meeting in a courtyard. Everything you need to know about the sort of
film you are getting – and Branagh’s ability to marry the language of cinema
with the language of Shakespeare – is right there.
Branagh’s setting of the play in a golden Tuscan villa is
perfect for both its playful, relaxed, soldiers-back-from-the-war plot line and
the heated romances and jealousies that fuel the plot. Is it any surprise feelings
are running high in such a sultry and hot climate? The two worlds – the army
men and the people of Leonato’s household – are immediately clear. And the
setting communicates the film’s mood – fundamentally bright, sunny, cheerful.
Kick back your heels, you are being taken on a high-spirited, exotic holiday.
In this playful setting, Branagh invariably gets the tone
just right. Shakespearean comedy is so reliant on live audience reactions, on
bouncing off the audience, that creating this on film without that live element
is really difficult. Trust me, watch any number of BBC Shakespeare comedies (don’t worry I’ve done it for you) and you
will see immediately how hard it is to get that bounce and comedic juice out of
these shows. Branagh gets it spot on here – the characters are so likeable, the
delivery of the actors so assured, the spirit of the film so light yet
perfectly controlled, that the comedy lands nearly every time. Above all, the
actors look like they had a whale of a time making the film – and that
enjoyment completely communicates to the audience.
The gulling scenes of both Beatrice and Benedick are
expertly played and hugely entertaining: Branagh skilfully cuts them to fast-paced
essentials, and then gets the best possible comic mileage out of them – from
skilled cut-away shots for reactions to wonderful ensemble playing (Briers in particular
is superb as a Leonato slightly out of his depth in trickery). It’s easy for
the Beatrice gulling scene to fall a little short after the Benedick one – but,
largely thanks to Emma Thompson’s excellent performance, that certainly doesn’t
happen here.
But Branagh understands Much
Ado is not just a comedy: it comes perilously close to being a tragedy. For
at least an act of the play, our heroes are at loggerheads, and murder and
death are almost the end results. From Claudio’s explosively violent reaction
to Hero’s perceived betrayal at the wedding to Leonato’s furious denunciation, horror
and danger are ever-present. This then leads us into Beatrice and Benedick’s
wonderful post-wedding. Branagh sets this in a small chapel – adding an echo of
marriage vows to the understanding the pair reach – and Thompson’s passion,
fury and pain are met (for the first time) with quiet, mature understanding
from Branagh’s Benedick. Thompson’s order for Benedick to “kill Claudio”
carries a fiery conviction that chills. It’s a brilliant scene.
A lot of this works so well because of the brilliance of the
acting. Branagh is charming, very funny and mixes this with a growing emotional
depth and maturity as Benedick. But the film belongs to Emma Thompson who is
quite simply astounding as Beatrice – surely one of the greatest performances
of the role you will catch. She is the soul of the movie, at turns playful,
frustrated, joyous and consumed with grief and rage. She speaks the lines
(needless to say) with absolute clarity and emotion, but even more than that
her intelligence dominates the movie. You can’t take your eyes off her.
But this is a very strong cast of actors, the best mix
Branagh got between Hollywood stars and his regular players. Denzel Washington
is simply perfect as the noble but strangely distant Pedro (his moments of
isolation at the close of the film are as touching as they are unsurprising).
Richard Briers gives some of his best work in a Branagh film as a Leonato,
moved to great emotion and feeling. Leonard and Beckinsale are perhaps not
given huge amounts of interpretative depth, but are very lovable. Gerard Horan
is very good as a swaggering Borachio.
It’s easy to knock Keanu Reeves but – aside from his
untrained voice, which makes him sound duller and flatter than he actually is –
his Don John is actually pretty good. As a physically very graceful actor he
completely looks the part, and he glowers and fumes with all the intensity you
could require – and after all, Shakespeare didn’t give Don John much more to do
than that.
No the real problems with the production – and the parts
that don’t work – are Dogberry and Verges. Now I can see what Branagh is trying
to do here: the malapropisms of Dogberry’s dialogue are rarely, let’s be
honest, that funny, and would work even less well on film. But the decision to
make Dogberry and Verges a cross between Monty Python and the Three Stooges
doesn’t really work. Michael Keaton is giving it his all here to try and get
some humour out of this – but his straining for every laugh, combined with
gurning over delivery, bizarre accent and physical over-complications, just
deaden every single Dogberry scene. These scenes largely flop.
But it doesn’t matter when every other scene in the film
works so damn well. And, however much you might drift away during the Dogberry
moments, the rest of the film will capture your heart and mind every time.
Filmed with a luscious richness and stylish confidence, this is a ravishing and
flamboyant film that will never fail to entertain. By the time the final
reconciliation has happened, and the house erupts into a joyous celebration
party – filmed, with astonishing chutzpah, as a single take, staggering in its
complexity, that covers close-up, tracking shot and huge crane shot – while
Patrick Doyle’s score gives a swelling version of Sigh No More, you’ll be in
love yourself. And if not – well look to yourself.
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