Much Ado about Nothing. (12A.)
Directed by Joss Whedon.
Starring Amy Acker, Alexis Denisoff, Clark Gregg, Nathan Fillion, Reed Diamond, Fran Kranz and Jillian Morgese. In Black and White. 109 mins. Out on Blu-ray and DVD.
During his estimable career in TV, comic books and lately films, Joss Whedon has worked magic with the basest material, given depth and wit to superheroes, vampire slayers and space cowboys. He can work wonders, but making Shakespeare funny is beyond even him.
Whenever confronted with a Shakespeare comedy I’m reminded of the Peter’n’Dud routine in an art gallery. Pete complains “Have you seen that bloody Da Vinci cartoon: I couldn’t see the bloody joke,” and Dud replies, “When that Da Vinci cartoon first came out I bet people were killing themselves.” Comedy ages at frightening speed. You try listening to recordings of Max Miller and it’s almost like gibberish to modern ears.
He may well have had them rolling round The Globe, but these days you reckon he could do with getting to the point. Most of Shakespeare’s joke are based on elaborate and pleased with itself wordplay and puns, the sort of stuff which immediately makes you think Gyles Brandreth or Frank Muir. And then there is all that bloody contrived rigmarole of overheard conversations, misunderstandings and improbable schemes that today strikes of being from the very worst sitcom writing.
The Shakespeare compulsion among actors and writers is a fierce and fanatical thing, as demonstrated by the existence of this home movie made in 12 days during a break between the filming and the editing of The Avengers, in Whedon’s own house with a cast and crew made up of friends and colleagues from his various TV work and produced by his wife. That’s devotion for you but it is very odd to see a man who is arguably the greatest contemporary writer of screen dialogue, honouring a master whose dialogue has no place on the screen.
(Yes, it is great on the stage, but then the theatre is the natural home of longwinded boredom.)
So for me Whedon’s film was dull but the pleasure the people on screen are having doing it is at least semi-infectious. It was very nice to see all these old familiar faces who played supporting roles in previous Whedon pieces together on screen. Denisoff is particularly good – I’ve no idea if his verse delivery is up to snuff but as Benedict he carries himself like a young Pierce Brosnan.
Your extras are an engaging director’s commentary from Whedon.
Directed by Joss Whedon.
Starring Amy Acker, Alexis Denisoff, Clark Gregg, Nathan Fillion, Reed Diamond, Fran Kranz and Jillian Morgese. In Black and White. 109 mins. Out on Blu-ray and DVD.
During his estimable career in TV, comic books and lately films, Joss Whedon has worked magic with the basest material, given depth and wit to superheroes, vampire slayers and space cowboys. He can work wonders, but making Shakespeare funny is beyond even him.
Whenever confronted with a Shakespeare comedy I’m reminded of the Peter’n’Dud routine in an art gallery. Pete complains “Have you seen that bloody Da Vinci cartoon: I couldn’t see the bloody joke,” and Dud replies, “When that Da Vinci cartoon first came out I bet people were killing themselves.” Comedy ages at frightening speed. You try listening to recordings of Max Miller and it’s almost like gibberish to modern ears.
He may well have had them rolling round The Globe, but these days you reckon he could do with getting to the point. Most of Shakespeare’s joke are based on elaborate and pleased with itself wordplay and puns, the sort of stuff which immediately makes you think Gyles Brandreth or Frank Muir. And then there is all that bloody contrived rigmarole of overheard conversations, misunderstandings and improbable schemes that today strikes of being from the very worst sitcom writing.
The Shakespeare compulsion among actors and writers is a fierce and fanatical thing, as demonstrated by the existence of this home movie made in 12 days during a break between the filming and the editing of The Avengers, in Whedon’s own house with a cast and crew made up of friends and colleagues from his various TV work and produced by his wife. That’s devotion for you but it is very odd to see a man who is arguably the greatest contemporary writer of screen dialogue, honouring a master whose dialogue has no place on the screen.
(Yes, it is great on the stage, but then the theatre is the natural home of longwinded boredom.)
So for me Whedon’s film was dull but the pleasure the people on screen are having doing it is at least semi-infectious. It was very nice to see all these old familiar faces who played supporting roles in previous Whedon pieces together on screen. Denisoff is particularly good – I’ve no idea if his verse delivery is up to snuff but as Benedict he carries himself like a young Pierce Brosnan.
Your extras are an engaging director’s commentary from Whedon.
