Shakespeare jazzes up, gets a nice place on 125th

COURTESY LONGWHARF THEATER The cast of Long Wharf's 'Much Ado About Nothing' features actors Geoffrey Owens (far left) and James Avery (right).

Popular culture would have us believe that George Costanza from the television show Seinfeld invented the "nothing" show. In one of Seinfeld's most famous episodes, George and his buddy Jerry Seinfeld, pitch their idea to a flabbergasted NBC executive board, announcing with glee that their new television series will be about "nothing, absolutely nothing." The board is shocked. Can one do a show about nothing? They obviously haven't read their Shakespeare.

The "nothing" show, as it turns out, has been around for nearly 400 years, ever since William Shakespeare wrote his delightful comedy, Much Ado About Nothing, in 1600. Shakespeare knew then, as George Costanza and producers of the current production at Long Wharf Theater know in the 20th century, that a successful "nothing" show must revel in its nothingness, on the typicality of the situations it portrays.

That doesn't mean that the show has to be devoid of plot, however. Much Ado About Nothing tells the story of men—the young and naive Claudio, the misogynistic Benedick, and the older Don Pedro—who return from war to stay at the home of their rich and powerful friend Leonato. Each day in his house is a celebration and the men can rest their war-weary souls to begin in their search for love. They encounter Hero, the sweet, innocent daughter of Leonato, and Beatrice, the beautiful, but strong-willed shrew. The scene degenerates quickly into a match-making free-for-all, with everyone playing Cupid and the evil Don John (bastard brother to Don Pedro) working behind the scenes to spoil the party.

Derek Anson Jones, the director of the Long Wharf production, has tweaked the plot to bring the play into the 20th century, which is key to accenting its universality. Jones's Much Ado takes place in the early 1920s during the Harlem Renaissance, just as men are returning fromWorld War I. Claudio, Benedick, and Don Pedro belong to the all-African-American 369th Infantry Regiment, which fought for the French after the United States refused to let blacks and whites fight side by side. The Harlem Renaissance provides the perfect atmosphere for Much Ado About Nothing, which requires as its setting a time of merriment following the end of a war. The men are typical of soldiers who, isolated from the female sex for so long, have the single-minded wish to return home and get married. The selection of this particular war and time only serves to set the jazz music, flapper dresses and Charleston dances that punctuate each scene.

A successful "nothing" show also avoids taking itself too seriously, and the actors play this comedy to the hilt. Caroline Stephanie Clay and Michael Genet pair off brilliantly as the quick-witted Beatrice and Benedick, sparring back and forth as if they had never enjoyed insulting anyone so much. Andrew Weems struts across the stage as the self-important constable, Dogberry, with the impeccable timing of a seasoned character actor. James L. Avery as the meddlesome, jolly patron, Leonoto, and Geoffrey Owens, BR '83, as Don Pedro demonstrate range not seen in their television work as, respectively, Uncle Phil on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air and Elvin on the Cosby Show. Kevin Daniels and Kim Awon are delightfully mischevous as the lovers Claudio and Hero. And Ron Cephas Jones is so deliciously evil we can practically see the onstage air freeze.

The facility of these actors with Shakespearean verse is remarkable. The cast enunciates so clearly that we can see the spit fly with their p's and t's. Scenes move like lightning, but the audience can hang on to every word, as if the actors were speaking in plain English. And while the supporting players show a little less polish in their recitation of Shakespearean verse, we can forgive them because everyone on stage seems to be having a such a good time.

They dance, they sing, they overact, and the audience loves every minute of it. With reckless abandon in gesture and in-your-face blocking (helped by the intimacy of the theater, whose stage is level with the first row of seats), the cast brings the entire audience into the show. People behind me and to my left blurted out advice to the characters—"Ooh, he's going to get you now—", clapped for the good guys and hissed at the bad guys, all in the spirit of a good melodrama. What's more, the audience participation felt right, as legitimate a part of the show as any other. After all, we can all relate to love and its trials, to good guys and bad guys, to celebration and sadness. A play about nothing is, in essence, a play about us.

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